I no longer know what the goal of the site is, I write horror fiction, and love letters to myself.
This site is a tool to facilitate the act of seeing clearly, written by hands that used to hurt myself.
Explanation: I am Damien, I speak to my split personality Amanda. I am two people in love with each other, and I am okay with that now.
I have paranoid schizophrenia, narcissistic personality disorder, bipolar II-manic/depressive- rapid cycling, depression, anxiety, hydrocepholus, narcissistic personality disorder suffering from alcoholism, drug addiction, alcoholic. with OCD and PTSD- was addicted to heroin, meth, crack, alcohol, cocaine, prescription pills.
I am drug addict/alcoholic/dual diagnosis/ex-homeless person.
Through dark horror fiction I rake the muck of the lives of street addicts.
Or in plain English this is an epic poem/novel about addiction told about low bottom addicts in horror style.
Tag: dreaming
She spoke to me kindly, she spoke to me greatly, not with great understanding, but with great power, power with words and power over me, through my inability to understand her, and ability to panic over things beyond my understanding.
Belinda, Belinda, you were so great, so great
That my arrogance deprived us of the ability to relate, such a tragic shame, and I am only to blame.
I miss someone, I miss you, I don’t know you, but feel I do.
In the projected future, there is someone I miss right now, and I don’t know how I miss them, but I do. I dream of you, and like I said, I don’t know how.
You are not know to me, not right now.
You are made of star dust, you are in my dreams.
You are protected by time, or so it seems, because I am supposedf to be alone right now, and so are you, and I don’t know why, or maybe I do.
There is something a higher force is teaching me right now, and I imagine it is the same and also seperate for you, and I imagine the next time I am with someone or maybe the thousandth I don’t know, it will be different.
Advertisement
Smoke
You stand out in my memory, smoke goddess, of midnight, standing with me in the fog, you and I, fought the day, you shrouded in red, and me shrouded in decay of my mind, unlike you, already gone, already mad, I stood staring out at the river, ranting about nothing, ranting about everything, speaking nothing, speaking everything, talking about the universe, but also saying nothing at all, you were very unique and also every woman I ever met.
That is one of the worst things I have ever heard you say. Every woman is the same?
No, this one was just unreal, and seemed like everyone and no one.
Okay, better, thank you.
I am running through the desert, not sure how long I have been running, because it feels like I just woke up upright, which I am used to because it happens when I am upset.
I am unsure of where my dog is, this is in the past, so I actually have this dog, and it is not a figment of my imagination. I had a pitbull when I was dating this other girl, before Rei.
My chest is pounding, as if I have been running for hours, I am unsure of how long I have been runnning.
I don’t know where you are, but you can’t be very far, and I don’t know where I am, but I feel like I am very far from sane, you are the only thing in my brain.
I hear my dog in the distance, I am sure of it. I run, my chest pounding.
The sky is different now, the blue becoming a pretty pink, and I wonder if it is an indication of a storm, or an indication that I am in fact dreaming.
This doesn’t feel right
I hear you, my dog, not my ex, in the distance, you are barking in a way that I understand, it sounds like you are speaking to me… from far away… I can hear you saying that it is not present time… I am in the past…. this is not possible so… I choke on my breath. I am not sure what is going on… I wake up and I feel around for Rei… thinking myself next to her…. then I remember… I am alone.. this is farther into the future… I am alone… just a dream… just a dream… I miss my dog.
She looked like a vampire, or what you would think a vampire looked like anyway, which was probably the point. I met her in New Orleans.
I imagined the whole time, every instant I was with you, what it would be like
To hold you, to touch every inch of you, to be next to you, but I was afraid to touch you, to hold your hand, to be touched by hands.
I built you up in my head, your painted skin and made-up face.
You laughed at me, and I could smell your mint-scented breath in the air, dancing towards my face.
I will follow him Follow him wherever he may go And near him, I always will be For nothing can keep me away He is my destiny
Are you claiming to be a god?
No, I am saying I was doing what the universe told me to.
I pushed a fox out of hole, and he died because I am selfish, or was anyway, I think someone ate him.
The streets of this country are riddled with screaming, every street corner, ever cover of darkness, is surrounded by the screaming criers of the night, who scream in languages only some can understand.
They talk to me, clearly, not her name, but meaning I understand them, and they speak to me in plain English, because that is the language of the country I am in, unofficially.
We talk of survival, not manipulation, but survival, of who is the best person to ask for money, who will likely hand over a dollar, I am good at this, good at awkward prolonged eye contact, I help them, my fellow nightcriers.
I miss them dearly, clearly, not her name, **** her name.
They are just like everyone else, except their lives have been riddled with danger, and because they are addicts they used or drank about it, and the judgement of others, bothers me endlessly.
What are you looking at honey?
I am standing at the dock, staring out over the water, mesmerized by the way the moon paints the waves with light.
I am cold, not prone to waking up with jackets on, not sure why this is, but I am shaking, but it is alright because it is keeping me aware.
I am listening to a conversation that I am not sure,
Yes, it is real..
I feel hate running red, through my veins, through my entire body, unsure of the exact nature of this, I am aware that it relates to my passenger, Amanda.
She hates this woman, that I can hear now, her voice grating, she’s bragging about something, why would she? Why would she be shouting about drugs outside in the middle of the night? Understood. I get it. This person is a ****.
I am unsure of what the expectation is of my borrowing this body, I think they just didn’t want to be here right now, so screw it. I am going to the convenience store.
There are two of me, which is great because I am one of the loneliest people I know, actually I am one of the only… liar…
Woe is me, woe is me, I am lying clear to see, I write under many names, really writing under soul disdain, I am addict hear me cry, I am the ever spinning eating I of soul of the shadow beings of light, flying into human minds, we bind ourselves to their decline.
Hey, that was ****ing mean, I saved your life **** it.
I know, my hands told me to write it to get you to talk to me.
I like it.
I knew you would.
You did?
Yeah, because you are me.
I exist in callous form, I am clearly’s soul reformed, I am Amanda’s soul two no three, I am the act of 1, 2, 3.
Daily writing prompt
When you were five, what did you want to be when you grew up?
I wanted to be free from being in the back of my own head, living a life of falsehood, bad faith pretending to be something I was not just because I thought society would not accept me, us, both of us. I am two people. I don’t care how insane that sounds. I have the thoughts and opinions of two people, and can give two completely separate sets of reactions. I am also me, and trapped in a girls body, but she needed me, she hates herself, because she doesn’t want to be a girl either. Neither of us did. I think we were sentenced to this, because we are both supposed to do something together, but I am crazy and have an overinflated sense of self-importance, so don’t listen to me.
I have no idea what question… oh yeah… when I grew up… I don’t know alive? I will settle for alive… not being dead is good.
I drink gin, ginn, jinn,
I am alone, alone alone alone, drinking by the phone, phone, waiting for a call, from somewhere very far away from here, I don’t know
Who it is, but I think her name was Ginny. I am not sure, doesn’t seem to make sense, because why would her ****ing name be the same as what I am drinking, that sounds fishy. ****ing ****.
I don’t like her anyway, she seems weird, girls with dark hair creep me out.
Hey, ***hole
You don’t count, you’re not a girl remember, you are just a reflection of me.
You are just, actually right.
Why the **** are you talking about gin anyway?
I like the idea that it is named after a dark angel.
It is named after a middle eastern legend, not a dark angel.
Is it?
Yeah, I am too lazy to look it up right now.
Okay, good, I am going to keep thinking my fallacious beliefs then, that is much more comforting anyway.
Why the *** is that.
If they are not real they can’t hurt me.
Aww… sen
**** YOU.
Yeah, I am awake too, dork, I wake up when you wake up because I am your inner child.
Not everyone has an inner child that wakes up when they wake up.
Meh. Meh. Meh.
That’s really mature.
I know, I learned from you.
Do you like being alive again?
I saw that, you put a period at the end of that before putting the question, you forget I can do it too.
No I just wasn’t typing so I didn’t forget.. I was letting you talk.
Oh, wow, sweet.
So what do you have to say?
Nothing.
Thought so.
You thought so?
Yeah, I thought you weren’t going to talk to me for more than a couple seconds, actually. I am pretty psyched you are talking to me for more than five seconds.
Is it fun being in my body?
It’s way better than being nobody.
Then stop having a hissy fit about it on the internet?
True, I learned that from you though.
True, point taken.
Not even going to say it.
Good, I was thinking the same thing, and no one needs to hear that ****.
Hey, why don’t I have a last name again?
Because you have paranoid schizophrenia.
Then why do you have one?
Because I don’t give a flying **** if anyone messes with me.
The most terrifying thing, I have been thinking about all night is what if I am actually normal now that I have realized my paranoid delusions are what were killing me, making me live in a separate reality cast as a madman when that is not who I ever was, riddled by guilt of not saying no to drugs… what if this is a higher power talking to me, telling me it is my delusions, and the drugs and alcohol that perpetuated them, making me into something I am not… and now.. now I hear something higher… and I am just listening, actively, to the voice of something that loves me. What if it is just trying to save my life, by telling me to stay away from toxic things like drugs and alcohol, what if it is trying to change my fate through compelling my broken soul to change?
I have been casting my eyes to the stars at night, looking for a star that is different, anything that will say that something is speaking to me, that this is not all in my head. That is some sort trial that is supposed to bind my handto something that is tied to something that is much higher than I could ever have been in my whole life of vagrancy.
I am compelled to meditate in my room, in any room I am in, on this strange call I hear sometimes. It comes to me when I am shaking, or crying in the dark black of night, and the only thing that seems to cure it is church or the powers of over drugs and alcohol that I gain through recovery meetings.
I have always heard this strange music, in my head, when thinking about all this, a chaotic piecing together of sounds, when I think about all this. It sounds like the universe talking to me through sound, but I think I am just insane. I don’t know…
I used to quell spells from Hell, with spells from Hell, and I lived to tell, and it just as well, because I am thinking well, now, that I have learned something I am not trying to sell or tell to anyone really, just keeping it close, even though I am leary, and in perpetual queery, queerly thinking that I am doing something wrong, like a bad song, or a book too long.
I am still resisting, insisting, as I do, to trudge, on on and on.
I am of unsound mind and body still existing on moving forward, as I do because I am consumed with idea of tomb, punish me, baby.
I am crazy, but maybe I am not. Maybe my mind just runs hot, with dissing ease of soul displeased, and teased by my self, and I need to take my life off the shelf, away from the bottles and the sowing needles, of just as well, a life bound to life in eternal Hell.
That is what my friends say is the end to this wicked spell of perpetual defend and cry and die, and lie, and spy with the ever holding eye of crying dying mad and sad. Maybe I am not that bad after all. Maybe I can do this whole living thing, and maybe I am just punishing those around me, by sentencing sentences to the sound of my complaining, does that ring true to you,
I am trying to get somewhere, where I don’t know, but I am going to somewhere, which is not where I want to go. I have one objective, objection to where this mother****er thinks we are going, to object through exit part of the way there, so I don’t end up there, just close to there which is where I was going, the man driving just doesn’t know that, he can’t or else I would be going somewhere else which is not where I want to go. He wants to follow me, so he can hurt me, it seems anyway.
How many hours a day would you estimate you spent on your blog, including writing, reading, and commenting? If you didn’t blog, what would you do with the time you currently spend on your blog?
You are asking me how I item-ize my time. How long do I spend on here? Why? There is no distinction between the things that I do during the day. I do not have the ability to space things individually. In other words, I do not know and this question makes me uncomfortable.
If I didn’t blog, I would be doing the same thing I do on here, out loud outside. I talk to myself on here, because I have something wrong with me, and I don’t have an inner monologue. The things I think come out of my mouth, unless I am writing, then I get some sort of semblance of peace for a second, because the things I think about, which are often unorganized fear driven nightmares, are projected onto this screen instead.
I write on here, so that I don’t walk around my house talking to myself anymore. If I didn’t write on here, I would walk around somewhere talking to myself, all day, every day, on repeat for the rest of my **** life.
It does not get better if I quit doing anything. This is my life un-medicated forever.
Which is why I need to get back on medication, which I am going to do. Soon.
My perspective is dead itself, or the idea that I have the ability to even have perspective is dead. It died for me when I was eight years old, when I realized I do not live in reality.
Block of Wood
You happened a long time ago, and every day, because you are a metaphor for mental decay.
I am staring at a block of wood, I do not know how I came to be staring at a block of wood, I do not have any knowledge of how long I have been standing here, I do not know what time I started staring at the block of wood, or where it is placed in the universe, or if I am even in the universe at all right now. I am simply staring at a block of wood in the dark, and can’t tell what time it is. It is that rare time of day or night when it is indistinguishable whether it is in fact day or night. I am not sure, I have no perspective anymore. I long ago gave that up because I am constant propelled into a reality that I am not sure of the reality of, so I relate to nothing, which means I have no perspective. This is beginning to change, but goes right back when this happens, and I have to fight my way out of the dark cavern that is the Hell of my mind.
I do not know why I was staring at the block of wood. I just know that I swear, I swear on everything in me, that I began to see the atoms if I focused enough, that made up the wood itself. I know I am insane, that this is all just hallucination, and indication that I am doing something right, because my mind does this to me whenever I make any sort of progress, sends me forwards, backwards, longways, short ways, and to a position of staring at a block of wood and wondering if I can communicate with my cat better orally or through telepathy.
I am looking at you, and wonder how you do that?
That standing upside down thing? That standing inverted thing?
How did you make the world flip over?
I don’t get it…
Please come closer..
I also would like to know…
Why my legs hurt and feel like they may go
Out from under me….
Any minute…
I can see you know by your grimace…
You seem to know something I do not…
Now please tell me….
My face is hot with…
Worry…
Please…
I can’t feel…
My.. knees…
Let go, your hanging upside down from a tree. The ground is right below you, let go, and it will catch you, you can even touch it, just open your eyes, you have your eyes shut, you are seeing things not there, your eyes are shut, open them, and get down from hanging upside down.
Oh.
Thank you.
I used to wash my hands a lot, when I was so elated, that I could have been instated to a psych ward for lack of a pillow because I hadn’t slept in days, because I was so happy
To pace around looking for a place to sleep where no one could
Steal everything I own, hurt me, kill me, or follow me for the rest of my life, so I decided to cause my own strive instead, sitting and consuming my own caustic poisons in dark rooms with friends in that shrouded themselves in clothing that hide their face, like I hid my face, because we hated ourselves so much we desired only to be not there at all, so high above you all… but not really….
How low can I go… I don’t know.. have you ever slept in 30 degree weather in New Mexico in the rain or sleet because you spent all your money on things that were not food or shelter?
Do you know what I felt there?
Over the line…
In decline…
Life resigned…
To a mind…..
In pain..
Life down..
The drain….. A human stain on the brain of a person who is now so different.. I am trying to forget, but have not yet, and maybe I shouldn’t, but I don’t know how to move on, and least for today.. I am singing different song..
I remember being places, in the middle of the Night, walking and catching the rare Moonlight, just strong enough, to illuminate a hawk, an eagle or sparrow.
I would stare up at them, looking at their gliding bodies, and wonder if they think, like we do. I don’t know the answer. I could look it up, but I don’t want to.
I imagine them, not thinking at all, just gliding in the air, and feeling the wind against their feathers and knowing things, but not having to say them, feeling things, but just gliding.
I used to be chained and bound, to tree with roots on poison ground, soiled with years of heroic consumption of heroin, meth alcohol, and death, and destruction.
I used to fire fire in vain effort to inject in vein with deathly effort, now instead I have developed a new addiction, a mesmerization with words and fiction, instead of misery mercy through diction. Thank you wordpress for keeping me sane, for saving my life, and keeping from destruction in vein in vain.
Mercy is found when, reflections are made, that bring the eye from ground to sky, that cast the eyes to that which is hire than anything I can fire in vain effort, to fill my blood that is so vital to my survival, with poison instead of being what it is, a gift of life to a soul in diseased strive.
Merci, Merci,
Mercy, Mercy.
I thank you from the misery of addicted souls everywhere
Damien.
Check out this kick ass, blog and recipe.
We eat very seasonally. In the spring we eat asparagus as often as we can, which is at least 3 or 4 times a week with spinach or green salad on the other days. During the summer it’s green beans and summer squash every day for months. For fall and most of the winter we… Chicken, […]
Trigger warning: This is about drug seeking and effects on my ability to be confident in friendships I have, due to emotional immaturity. Drugs mentioned. Do not read if sensitive to this kind of thing.
For no particular reason, I am very sad right now, so I think about the particles in the universe, I think about pieces of sand, so tiny, and so together, part of a body of sand, and I long to be a particle of sand, that is part of something else, and never alone, but I am always alone now, and I am so sad.
I say no particular reason, but that is a lie, I know exactly the reason why I am alone, I chose this every time I used the phone to call someone to pack away all the feelings I have, everything I want to say with acquisition instead of inquisitive mission to know anyone but those who are on a mission, now I am in a peculiar position. I don’t know how to make friends, and I know I already have them, but I don’t know how to have them, I don’t know what to do next, so I am stuck in the land of anxious guess, addicted to pain, and in a land of washing rain, why can’t it wash away the stains on my damaged brain. I feel like I will always be insane.
In vein. In vain. In vein. In pain. Disdain. No more pain. Please send me soul cleansing rain.
I know you don’t know me, but I am lonely, and I want to know you, whoever you are, whoever is lonely too.
I am very sad, and want someone just like you. I don’t know who you are, I don’t know why, but you are like me, and we cry with similar cut eyes.
I hope you are okay, I am not. My head is hurting, my hands are hot.
My heart is broken, I am alone, and I hope you hang on, person who is also by unanswered phone. Please don’t be sad, I am sad too.
I don’r want for you anything I feel too.
Can we just pretend for today? Just pretend that we already know each other so you will be okay?
I am lonely too please don’t give up.
I want to meet you. Don’t die before we meet up.
It is an insane release of tension to write dark horror. I don’t care what anyone thinks… I am going to do what I want now. I am an ***.
I am trying to be more honest and am not going to do the whole fake it thing, I am still the same **** with dark thoughts, I think the key is to find outlets for my rage issues and not hurt myself or bite people’s heads off. I think it is a good outlet for repressed aggression and makes it easier for me to not lash out at people around me. I am very passive aggressive and have a lot of repressed rage I channel into writing…
Sorry.
Damien
I used to spend so much time talking and none listening. Don’t get me wrong, I am on here all the time writing all day. I know that is talking, but I enjoy listening so much more than talking to myself, or even writing. I am starting to think differently about the words I write on here, as being tools to establish connections with human beings that are out there somewhere, that I cannot see, without these words on this screen. This has brought me so much peace, in a world that used to be dominated by chaos, and I owe that to everything outside myself. I am so glad I decided to let go of everything and trust something outside myself to guide me to something better, that I have never known before.
Thank you, all of you.
You as always continue to paint my world with color when it used to be a world of darkness and despair.
Damien/Amanda
“Man is the vainest of all creatures that have their being upon earth.”
Homer, The odyssey
I used to live in the woods, really I did. I spent an entire 8 months in the Oregon dunes, somewhere and everywhere in Oregon. I lived there and survived by clamming, and panhandling for food money, and don’t feel bad for me, I made 200 dollars a day, so very promptly after getting there, I developed a nasty attraction to bitter rocks that ate a hole through my hands and my soul.
They chased me to California. I walked there, I think I mentioned that before, high as a kite, I flew on the feet of the dragon, and the wings of fallen dreams to the state of California, with an angel of mercy sent to me whose name ironically was Chris, he sang like a bird the entire way. He was a beautiful singer. My arrogance and pride caused me to walk away, literally from one of the kindest human beings I have ever met in my life, without even saying goodbye. He screamed after me, and I ran, fleeing kindness for California, where I would meet what I was running to, an empire of pain on the sullied streets, I thought I desired so much. I am sorry Chris, you were kind to me, and I should have at least said goodbye.
What was the best compliment you’ve received?
I no longer care about bringing praise to myself, but on shifting the eyes of those who experience the pain that was so real to me for so long. I want to help those who experience pain, any pain, like me, away from that pain towards something, anything that stops that pain, even if it is just for a second, if it can be for a second or for an hour, or forever. I want to help, because that is what I feel like something else higher than me wants me to do, so when I am inspired to, I am doing this, as an atonement for a life of selfishness, when people tell me they see this. I am happy because that means I am doing the right thing, the thing I know I am supposed to do instead of serving me, like I used to.
Look not to what I say or do, but to the source of where my work leads you, away from the pain in my words, and at what saves me, whatever you think that is. I am asking you to always reflect on joy and see pain, but not dwell on it.
I am complimented when my work helps someone, because then and only then do I know I am doing what I am supposed to.
I just look. I am constantly watching, and have been granted the ability to continue to be. I talk to the powers that be all the time. They speak back because I talk to them, nothing more nothing less. I am very prone to screaming at the sky, joking with sky and smiling at the sky. I also talk to the air, to the birds, to animals, to the stars, and to every human who talks to me. I fear no one because I feel that my point is to be until I am not. I have always felt this way.
I falter in that I am an addict. I assert my will when trying to acquire things that make me forget that I see things that no one notices, because they aren’t watching. I almost died a lot in my life, I am very prone to foxhole prayers, making deals with the spirit in the sky and then breaking them. I think that has been my problem. I am hoping that through me writing this, people get to see what I saw, see it is real, and understand the screaming night criers out there, our reality is just as real we are just awake at hours people aren’t and we listen to a force no one else bothered to ask what to do, or we are consumed by another one which overpowers you and drives to act in pure will assertion, I have called this Misery thus far. It is the desire to force will to get what you want at all cost, it is pure will assertion that dominates a person and forces everything to bend to it.
Misery is derived from the word miser. That is what I have been, that is what I fight to change.
When thinking about this the word avarice is pounding in my mind, don’t know why but, I looked it up on this etymology site and this is what came up.
This all seems to suggest to me that will assertion is what is to be avoided and that if we flow with ebb and pull of the universe it will be revealed what we should do.
You’re going on a cross-country trip. Airplane, train, bus, car, or bike?
The sound of automation is mesmerizing, the clicking, the shuffling, the beeping the whirring, shoving and blended talking of all those on the train, who do not know me, and don’t know anything about my past. They have no judgement of me, preconceived or otherwise, busy with their own business. I fade into the background, and watch a world I left behind for a dance with a siren who wanted to rip my soul from my eyes.
My eyes are free now, and look around, not dominated by watching her, they are free to be their own, not called to the service of a master, they watch as the passengers go about their quiet business, and I am inspired by their composure, ability to be so normal, the train is a zen garden of little people, not screaming in overinflated hot blow up doll chaos, they keep to themselves, and I keep to mine, in my mind. I am thinking about leaving this place, misery, and doing something else, thinking and sure that this time, I mean it, because she should not own my words anymore.
I am going to board a new train of thought, and then hopefully get myself together enough to go on a train and do something else.
How would you rate your confidence level?
10. I am very very fast. I can run faster than anyone I know, most notably faster than this guy whose girlfriend paid me back my… rent money. I loaned it to him.. because I am a nice person? It was 400 dollars I got for standing in traffic at a light, and I am not the kind of person who looks good doing that… so sometimes they pay me to move, it takes a couple hours to make 400 dollars, like 8.
I stood there for 8 hours and had enough to pay the rent for the month or um… make tragic mistakes, you know dice roll. I decided to play double or nothing with my friend who is my business associate at well, well after this, his girl was my business associate and he was my **** for about 2 months. He wanted the power back from his girl.
I have a very um… aggressive approach to business, so people give me what I want.
Being impervious to death helps too… which is why I am turning my life around because I am realizing how I write this what an *** I was, because I think that something saved me all these times, and I proceeded to give it the finger, so it chopped my fingers off? Or the tips of three of them? I don’t think He or them or it really did that… I think it was MRSA and me being a ****.
Moral of the story, I am an arrogant **** , but I am trying to tone that down so… 5 on confidence..
It’s pouring rain, I have been walking a long time, pacing, in the darkness and lamenting the fact that is raining and I am cold, and wet and tired, in this moment I forget the day’s events. I forget begging the universe for a shower, saying I was thirsty and could use a drink of water, crying for someone to help me.
My head is very loud, racing thoughts that sometimes threaten to drive me mad, screaming at me, and a lot of the time it is hard to hear anything at all. I am trapped in my own head sometimes, a prisoner to my racing thoughts, chained to the walls of my mind like an inmate. My hands are hot, because I have my fists clenched, my palms are bleeding on both hands, and they are burning, the rain feels good on my skin, kissing it with the raindrops, it takes me out of my angry ranting thoughts and reminds me of earlier in the day. I think I am crying, but can’t tell the difference between my tears and the rain, the only indication that I am crying is that I feel like I am gasping for air and have been not able to catch my breath.
This is just a memory I have, I don’t know what it is about. I am not sure.
There is a gate, it is up ahead of me. I open it and I sit down, I am compelled to look around, and start looking through a flower patch, there are bones in it. I start crying again, and remember someone I knew who I was looking for, for some reason I think these might be their bones. Something is telling me this, I do not know why. I feel like I am being watched, but can’t keep myself from falling forward and curling up into a ball, I am crying harder now.
I don’t know who is hunting us, more and more of my friends disappear every day and it is not by any of our hands. I have lost five friends recently, and they have never found the bodies, and I am suspicious because I don’t think they died of overdoses, and I know it was not by my hands or anyone else I knows hands, but it is being made to look like that, it is being made to look like the deranged lunatics are taking each other out, and I am afraid, because I don’t know who or what is behind this, but it terrifies me. I am afraid to sleep so I engage in something I thought I told myself I would stop doing, so I don’t fall asleep. I feel like I am going throw up.
I just got back from hanging out with my dad, and it is cool how different things are now that I am trying to makes things right, I talked to him about all the chaos that I caused, continue to cause because I am prone to delusions, and how sorry I am. I noticed that saying things like this keep me from drinking, keep me coming back to a place, where I can stop beating myself up and are making it possible for me to walk out of the woods where I kept taking the wrong path on purpose and falling in random holes because I thought I was going to find secret gold in rocks I found on the ground.
I think the metaphor for drug addiction and eating rocks and drinking poison instead of doing the simple thing of eating food and drinking water is hilarious. I can’t believe how much my thinking has changed. It’s funny I was convinced everyone is out to get me when this is more true…
Them
Meth
Same word re-arranged…
Item
Time
Same word re-arranged.
Heroin
Hero in pushed together it forms a drug
Divided it references a hero in me
Heroine with an everlasting e it makes me a hero for saving my own life.
Funny right?
What makes you most anxious?
I am such a ****.
I just made a really bad joke, and feel bad about it. I suck at life.
Explanation: Shocking, I am trusted to not have to leave, if there is no one here to watch me…
Now this…
Pond, not Stream of Chaos
I am a duck, apparently, because unknowingly
I have been teaching myself to be less
BANG EXPLODE
Like that, so now I can be alone, and not have people
I used to be constantly floating from place to place,
In a race with the human race to consume my tomb in the form of drugs and doom and alcohol which I would viciously consume, in doomed ferocious style, in front of all I know
sowing shame and guilt while also showing pain and guilt through vicious attack on self but also on others eyes, making people cry without knowing why because I am selfish. I am becoming not
I think… I guess.. don’t know…
_________________________________________________
I am a duck in a pond, that is just okay enough with me for now, to not drown
I am not going down
Because I don’t want to
Un-spun I am no longer undone.
I am glad to be trusted, un-dusted, still rusted, but dusting off.
I hate myself, I hate my voice, I sound like a **** when I say anything, condescending **** when I say anything, and can’t do anything normal
Like drink water. I just almost choked on an ice cube… ****.
I drink everything like alcohol still…. doing ****ing shots of water with ice in it. Like it is going to work faster if I drink it in five seconds. What the ****????
I do the same thing with everything, must make everything painful, like just take sips of water when you are thirsty dumb ***
I have been courted all my life, to dance with loaded gun or held knife at my Neck, by myself, on a shelf, which of course is what I think because, baby I ****ing stink, I smell booze, in heart and soul, still drunk but dry, sometimes I know.
I reek of anger, creaking madness, rocking back and forth epic sadness, dark reflection, not staring at mirror, but bashing crashing and dying in epic fear.
I am loaded gun, I am dark resistance, I am tragic, insistence, that though I am dry, I am GOD. I am responsible for divining rod, punishing me, I am insistence on trying to be my own
Maker
Breaker
Soul forsaken, breaking me, tragically, beginning to see how epic my failure is.. or simply that I am an addict who needs a higher power.
Facts.
I loved you, any of you who was with me, I thought… but now I don’t know, because it always ends the same
You are insane
THEN GO! I KNOW. I KNOW. I DON’T CARE. I DON’T NEED YOU. NEVER DID NEVER WILL I HAVE MYSELF
All you need is love..
All you need is to shut the **** up.
I need no one, but myself. I need to put the drugs and alcohol on the shelf, that is what I need to do, and I can’t do that with them, I can’t know that I am not going to do this again.
I can’t even be my own friend damn it.
I know, Damien.
I break up with me, every day.
I know, Damien.
I know, Amanda.
I know, me.
I know both of us.
I hate me too.
How the **** am I supposed to like anyone else if I can’t even look in the mirror, I hate everything and everyone because this sucks and it is hard, and you make me nervous because I know everyone is thinking the same damn thing that I think about me
YOU SUCK YOU SUCK YOU SUCK You suck?
That’s what you think?
That’s what we think. They think. I think.
Do you think this is fun for anyone, who the **** would want to be around this? I don’t even want to and I am this…
Then stop doing it.
Oh.
I sleep in oblivion because obviously sleep must be partially that
Because I can’t remember it and that is oblivion right?
Hmm… being dead or asleep, meaning having no power and receiving pardon or amnesty?
Sound familiar?
***hole.
Just realized I called myself my own ex-girlfriend…
Not intentional…
I just told people the truth so now I am going to die, I just told people the truth so now I have to STAB OUT BOTH MY EYES
I don’t know why I do this…
Because you love death’s kiss… ****
I don’t though really? Do I?
Yes, clearly…
My heart is pounding really fast… and I feel like I am going to crash into everything around me and I am dying but that is not real and I feel like I want.
Jump into a moving car.
SCAR SCAR SCAR SCAR I am very far away from reality, circling a
DRAIN?
DRAIN
Dying human stain…. remove remove remove
remove remove me… from this..
You think this is going to work don’t you?
Yes.
No.
GO SLOW SLOW SLOW SLOW SLOW
In the darkness of night, no one can really see me, because I am not there at all, I am death’s call, I am the act of stall. I am the toll of the bell of the night, I am the activity of a dying fight, I am the passing of anxiety, I am the feeling dying slowly like everyone else, I am cares cast away on a shelf where they can’t touch me, because I am far away, they can’t touch you dumb*** they don’t know where you are… and aren’t interested in you and you are just trying to write to save you from drinking what is wrong with that?
Okay.
I love ya, hunny, and it shows, or showed, when things were going well, you know? When we were loaded with lots of cash, and didn’t have to worry about you stealing my ****ing stash, but now I am sorry sweetie, gotta go,
Because you know what, sorry, baby, we’re in a rut and as much as I love ya, you ****ing ****! I hate your stupid ugly guts, so take my money sweetie, I don’t need it, hope you like it, hope you keep it for longer than one day, because sorry dear, I am staying away.
I am walking to California, and so my dear, I am going to warn you if you come near me, I can say I will bite your head off, and make you pay, because I have a rare gift don’t you see and sounding like guy I still have these? So now with the power of two in one I am pimp and whore with loaded gun.
I will take out your eye, don’t touch me ****er, and if you say anything I will make sure your luck
Is in the ER ER ER ER
Damien/Amanda
What activities do you lose yourself in?
I am very back and forth, a torrent of pain whirling around in a sink, that I kept pulling the stopper of, and I would let parts of me flush down it, not realizing that I don’t get them back.
I pulled the drain over and over, chopping off pieces in my madness, I would let parts of me fall into the sink of destruction watching as I slowly disappeared and using it as an excuse to drink or go soo…….
High into the sky, I felt lost, but free, but I got stuck up there, so high up there.. floating.. in nothingness..
I with real eyes, with non-blurred vision now, that the state of elation I was looking for, was inside me all along, I get the same high now, sometimes, when I am not doing poorly, and I frequently am, but I am trying.. through this, writing to you, imaginary person, and I love you so much for saving my life.
I don’t always remember this, in my cycle of drain life, but I remember it enough for it to be a small way to get out of the drain.
Something set me off, and now I am insane, I am searching for a cause, but there is not one, not that I know of, because it was something small, that should not cause fear at all, but you sick my mind is thick with sickness, un-perceived by me, so I have to do this sometimes, write about
NOTHING, unpacking misery stuffed into a soul filled with everything and
NOTHING I am you, I hate everything you do, you are stupid too, you do nothing right, you are a sick loser, in perpetually fight, hiding in dark night.
STOP IT **** it.
Please stop it? Please?
If I get on my knees, will you stop it?
I like it when you..
**** you.
**** you. **** you. **** you. I am not listening anymore. I am not listening to you, because you are not real. I am a human being with feelings that are real.
YOU ARE PATHETIC.
YOU are pathetic, you are not me, speak for yourself buddy, not mine.
I am done with you.
Good, I tricked you, it worked.
End. Meditation.
Better?
Kind of.
Meditations death of resentment.
What activities do you lose yourself in?
Re-vision- Soul re-stitching, threads of misery replaced with kindness.
I used to lie, cheat, and steal
In Misery, only would I deal.
Suffering was my main course meal.
I did not eat, I lived on the street, and in pain and suffering I did deal.
I was a cheater, a liar, a thief, if you met me I would make sure you fell beneath…
Me in every endeavor thinking, I was so clever, but really only
HURTING
Me.
Now, I am trying to be different.
ER ER ER __________________________________________________
I am sitting at the table with women who have joined my table, which was mine alone, sitting by myself for a reason… anyway..
They sit down with me, pushing me to the side, of my own **** booth and begin to tell me that they have an inside man, a woman damn it not an inside man. I tell them I don’t speak English in English, they tell me they know I am lying. I know I am lying, but I don’t want to hear this ****. I wish I could give them back the food, that I am not sure is safe to eat now, because they gave it to me.
I eat it anyway, and they tell me it is fine, but not to eat there without them, because the food is not safe, they have an inside man. I ask them why they eat it. They tell me it is safe to consume poison if you only take a small bit at a time. I think they were insane, but I don’t eat Chinese food anymore, I never know what is in it.
“The world’s a hard place, Danny. It don’t care. It don’t hate you and me, but it don’t love us, either. Terrible things happen in the world, and they’re things no one can explain. Good people die in bad, painful ways and leave the folks that love them all alone. Sometimes it seems like it’s only the bad people who stay healthy and prosper. The world don’t love you, but your momma does and so do I.” ― Stephen King, The Shining
The tortured inn keeper, thinks no one who stays at the inn cares about the inn, thinking that the ins and outs of those without the responsibility of caring for the inn indicate a lack of caring,
That is really coming from within, a manifestation coming from the desire to
GET OUT
Of one’s self, pushing those around
GET OUT NO
I am you
The caretaker is a drinker, they think this is because they take such good care of the inn, that they deserve a reward
AN ETERNAL REWARD
Manifesting in alcohol consumption or consuming
POISON
They consume it on the regular, but it is not important the frequency just that it eats their
SOUL
ER ER ER
SAILING
THROUGH TIME
ER ER ER
Back now.
The innkeeper talks to me about keeping fires, about the duties of keeping an inn, and about the need to do things to keep the inn, like make it a little easier, by consuming poison.
I am a frequenter of many motels, so I have met many innkeepers, such tortured, kind hearts, that do not know their goodness.
I am not sure sometimes, if I am being guided by the hands of the universe not individually as some lunatic with some mission of importance, but simply some wind-watcher, air listener, tragic tour guide of no one, standing outside in the middle of the night debating shadows that cast on the walls of the houses of the towns I walk through, or right now live in.
I am awoken, by the fighting of very literal cats outside my window, and my mother’s dog is yelled for by my stepfather, he can’t find her, she woke up and he took her to the bathroom and she took off and I can hear outside my window, so I wake up, even though he is focused on something else, I tell him, what is happening and it helped him understand her, and helped him find her.
I wonder how many times before, was I too high or drunk to even hear the cats fighting, and what this all means.
Is there some value to my lunacy, that helps the universe in any way?
I hear things, I hear phrases, they come to me, constantly. I get stuck on them, a decoder of messages coming into my mind, that could mean something or nothing, who knows, but I decode them on here because it helps me personally deal with them, and not shout them on street corners, or talk to myself while pacing around in decaying madness. I noticed with this one, that I put in the title, reckless abandon, that if it spelled like the above, wreck less abandon, that it means something different.
Wreck
the broken remains of something wrecked or otherwise ruined. (dictionary.com)
The broken remains of something of lower rank or importance
Wreck less Abandon
Read this way
Someone of perceived lesser importance, removes prior restraints causing lesser importance, and turns to mission of more importance, which is removing inhibitions or restraints, or the chains of addiction and helps the abandoned or lost of society.
Just a thought, through language dissection of schizophrenic thoughts.
I am sitting by the water again. I am looking out into the ever expanding nothing, I say ever expanding because the lights of the streetlights are going in and out and in and out next to me. They turn on and off, not on a timer but timed randomly with something. I have noticed that they respond to my movement, they turn on and off as if communicating with something in me, but I do not know what it is. They seem to respond to certain kinds of thought, but it is uneasy to place. I am not sure what it is. There turning on and off varies not by the kind of thought being positive or negative, that does not matter, they respond to recognition and the level to which the thought is thought, to intensity not to the kind of intensity.
I move towards them and it seems to me, like they are dancing with me. They turn on and of and on and off on my skin, and it is almost as if I can feel a warmness, that is not heat related. It is a warmness felt in something else, I feel it in my soul. I do not know what that means.
I just know that when I move the lights turn on and off as I think they are going to. I walk and they follow me, they light my way or shade it.
I do not know how to deal with this, what to do about it.
I just know I do not walk in the dark ever.
Trigger Warning: About sex workers and drug addiction, and feelings of longing for love, but also needing drugs in active addiction of heroin/speed/alcoholic addict physically dependent on substances to remain not physically ill…About selling love for money, and the effect it has on the soul and damaging effect on ability to find real love.
Item Eyes See Itemization of Love, which is not sent from above
Tick- prick- stick-pin prick- Oh, that felt, like-
I will never be loved until I love myself,
But also like I need no one else other than me, because I can buy love with time and money, minutes spent on standing on a corner holding a sign or getting in cars with strangers, or peddling
POISON
I will never be loved until I love myself
I will never be loved until I love myself
I hate myself
I hate myself
I hate myself
Stop. The clock will not move forward in a state of
Click.
Click.
Look back, it is important to remember and forgive not remember. remember. remember. romance the drug. resent. romance the drug. use.
Need to find a middle ground, recognize what you did, admit it and move on.
Click go.
Are you superstitious?
Yes, clearly.
I felt better as an internet serial killer, that was my version of The Punisher,
I live in fear of being happy, because I don’t want anything good because having things you want makes it so you can take them away from me. I don’t even want it to begin with damn it. Take it!!!!!!!!!!!
I’ll show you how much I don’t want it. I will make you all get away from me!
That is why I act the way I do. I am literally a child having a hissy fit, and I realized this today.
I never learned how to deal with things like an adult, so I am going through it now.
Sorry for the continuous explanation, I am explaining it to myself, really.
See Clearly,
Finally looking in the mirror.
Damien
The quiet ramifications of a life of pushing everyone away, or I am surrounded by silence because I pushed everyone away.
I hate it because it reminds me of what a failure I am, I have lived most of my life, lying to myself. I am unhappy because I am alone, and have spent my life drug/alcohol seeking. I do not have any friends, my friends I had are all dead or don’t talk to me anymore, so I sit alone all day and write on here and I hate it and love it at the same time. I love that I am no longer surrounded by the negativity I was surrounding me before, which I don’t want, but it also reminds me what I have missed because of my choices. I chose to dedicate my entire life to drugs and alcohol a magnum opus of failure. I am alone all the time forced to reflect on all the bad choices I have made.
I lived as a homeless person, squatter, bum, panhandler, conartist and petty criminal for the last 17 years. I was on a constant mission to fuel only my addiction while obtaining a master’s degree in public policy which I have used as a way to skirt the law. I have not committed any serious crimes. I have panhandled, lied, cheated, gambled, and conned my way through life. That is the truth, the full truth and no lies.
Damien.
I am finally beginning to like myself for the first time in my entire life. I have never liked myself my entire life, I did not realize this till just recently, I hated me, so I was constantly defending myself to myself, I did not realize these were not always schizophrenia, but personal demons that were very different than the voices, they are easier to deal with and have started to subside now that I have begun to remove the toxicity from myself and my life. I am so happy to be free of all this. I am so happy to be free from everything that was making me so miserable, every day, and it’s so silly because a lot of it was me doing it to my own self. I realize that now, but the thing is the position I was in was partially responsible for everything I felt, not in the taking away accountability from me kind of way.
I am accountable for all the things I have done, but that does not mean I need to destroy myself over it and resent others for the things I am doing to myself, with my own hands. I am sorry to those that are hurt by me, to those who I metaphorically killed, because I am not a real serial killer, just a personification of addiction and manifestation of the guilt of an addict who did not realize how much they did not have to put a mask on the truth that they blame themselves for everything.
I was Amanda, but I am becoming myself, Damien de Soto, take it or leave it. I have never killed anyone, just facilitated the death of addicts through never saying stop using when we were getting high together, my daughter is real to me, in my world of future, but she is not real for Amanda yet, and I hope you understand what I mean by that I was not lying when I said anything I said, but rebuilding a soul for a life that I thought was already over, as Amanda and built for me, her future self, I am very much real because these are her real thoughts and feelings, and my family represents families she just recently new and one specific child who she never stood up for because she was getting drugs from their parent.
When asking what I did about my daughter, I was relieving a past feeling of resentment. Amanda called child protection services on someone who she had dealt with in the past, because she did not like what was going on in that house, and she and I were asking the universe if it was done out of resentment or if that was truly the right way to handle it. I think it was, she secretly does too, we both hope the kid is alright, although we never followed up to see if they responded to our call.
Thank you for your support it means the world.
Damien and Amanda, but mostly Damien.
I just went to a meeting, and had the most intense experience I have had in my entire adult life, better than any high I have ever experienced, better than any good day, any high, any feeling I ever had that was what I thought of as love, I am amazed at the power of just being honest right now, and was just lifted up by an entire room of people who are my friends now, and I didn’t even realize it. They care about me, and actually like me as a person, and I have never had that in my entire life. I have never had friends that weren’t business associates that were tied to a life of well… you know. I am blown away by the power that honesty has. I am so free right now, from everything that was racing through my head yesterday. I think I am beginning to understand what the whole serenity thing means.
I realized that a lot of the time, I get caught and stuck on something,
They tell you not forget the past, so I got over-focused on it. I think I am realizing that there is a middle ground for me, and I see it, and it is great. I feel so much better now. I am finally beginning to feel like there is hope for me after all. I am so happy, but will inevitably be back and forth about this, I am told that is normal.
Thank you for listening to me.
It means the world.
Damien
The silencer makes a whisper of the gunshot. I hold her close until she’s gone. I’ll never know what she was running from. I’ll cash her check in the morning.
frank miller
You should dye your hair red they say to Amanda, and I am in the back of her mind or screaming audibly in the sky, ask yourself why they are telling you to do this? She thinks I am being paranoid. I think I am being paranoid. I don’t think I am being paranoid. I don’t like this girl, and it looks like her hair is spray painted red for quick removal, like someone would do if they wanted to convince someone who is drunk to copy them as a cruel joke and then reveal they never did the thing at all, and they were never drunk to begin with, which we would have noticed if we weren’t always so drunk, every day.
The girl with the red hair has a name, but I am not saying it to protect the paranoia of my other drafter, she did terrible things to me and Amanda.
A rumor spreads about me having red hair. A rumor spreads about someone jacking cars who has red hair. A rumor spreads that I was seen at the scene. I wasn’t. I was in the hospital being treated for MRSA, from an infection that came from dirty drugs.
It’s funny the things people I have known have done to protect their addictions. Screw that. I like coffee better anyway, at least it doesn’t come with blood in it.
Which animal would you compare yourself to and why? I am the servant of no one. I am not even good at serving myself food or water, I quit being Resentment’s waiter.
See clearly
I was always hearing your voice, Rei, and mocking it, telling myself that I needed to attack Amanda, attacking my higher power, attacking myself, when I should have been attacking not you, but everything that you were shouting at me. I thought it so essential to focus on the service of your demands, thinking you were a bird singing to me in beautiful songs, but you were not. You were woman who was very good at mimicking bird songs, who controlled the behavior of an insecure egomaniac who hates himself. You were my Lady Macbeth.
I feel this stronger than ever now that I thought about all night. You were very similar to Lady Macbeth. You wanted conquest, not of the world, but of the land that we live in, Misery, or addiction so that I could bring you drugs. I thought I was doing you a favor, a drug dealer, a hit man and a servant of a woman who wanted things so bad she was wiling to destroy the soul of someone she said she loved. I am realizing you did not love me. You never loved me. You loved your drugs, you loved my doting on you, and you loved the lack of accountability that came with being a mocking jay. I think I would have to say if I had to be an animal I would be crow/mocking jay.
I know this is against the rules, but is not paranoid schizophrenia against the rules, as well?
I say that I would be this because you used Amanda’s voice, my best friend to speak doubt at me, because she sounds like you, speaking like a woman, and I being an idiot would hear your voice, Rei in my voice or Amanda’s voice, that is why I was always trying to ruin Amanda’s life and she was always trying to ruin mine. She was hunted by Justin and I was hunted by you, so we thought ourselves chased by each other, when honestly, we were star-crossed lovers, who were lovers only in that we were inter-dimensional invisible men, insane, fighting madmen from Misery dimensions, trying to fight ourselves. I am so glad I got away before you killed me you harpee, you miserable creature, medusa, siren of hellfire, you will not longer use the call of bird to torment me any longer.
Crows, are intelligent creature, who make tools to catch bugs, they are the only bird who has the ability to do so, they have several calls they can make, and they are good at mimicking the voices of other birds. Amanda would be the mocking jay because I see now she had always been trying to mock you, not the other way around. Telling the difference between the two of us with place keeping device of how is Rei, as if to poke me and say do you realize you serve her the same way you served drugs. I am the servant of no one. I am not even good at serving myself food or water, I quit being Resentment’s waiter.
I have always been back and forth in my own head with ripping people to shreds and calculating the exact right thing to say and delivering it to the person, and then thinking I am holier than thou for doing it. I am trying to learn to just say what I feel, but it is really hard for me because I know what they want to hear and have gotten so used to manipulating people to get what I want. I don’t want to be like this anymore, but it is hard. I hate receiving anything but accolades, which makes me hate myself, because I hate how I sound. I know I am narcissistic, I get it. I wish my brain would stop beating me over the head with it, and I wish I could stop blaming myself for being honest, because if I do what I always do and go back to saying the right thing all the time, I am going to just reward myself with getting high or drunk and I don’t want to do that either. I wish I could divorce myself. Haha.
Damien
I think it is funny how the **** that I used to be married to thinks she is so above everyone else, and she is worshiping idols herself. She thinks herself some great nihilist, running through life capable of doing what she wants, and does just so, but she is worshiping an idol herself.
We believe in nothing, Lebowski.Nothing.And tomorrow we come back and we cut off your chonson
nihilists, the Big Lebowski
The battle raged on and on Fuelled by the venom of hatred for men Consistently, without the eyes to see By those who revel in sewer equally
Dimmu Borgir, Progenies of the Apocalypse
I like looking into the dark and light, sorry. I am not of the opinion that the eyes should be shielded from anything, I like this band, take it or leave it.
They are black metal, so be warned, these guys are insane and worship things you shouldn’t. I write horror, I think of these guys as writing horror as well, they just worship the horror they write, and that is their right to do, I just listen to it as a reflection on what I do not want to do, but it is interesting outwardly, and they are extremely talented musicians, whatever their personal beliefs are, which conflict with mine, I am not going to not listen to music because of differing ideology.
Anyway, point being, my ex is an idiot worshiping erected god Misery or virus of addiction. Moron that she is…
Revealed to me to invalidate below:
I am not the center of the universe, like I thought in below post
I am going to slit this woman’s eye balls out of her head. I have been thinking about it all morning, and I can’t think of another way to handle this, because I am stuck on idea of removing her eyes from her skull. I know this is not healthy, but I would love to poke her in the eye like the cyclops she is, unseeing in all her stupidity.
Wow, cheap shot of the internet, thanks for this one, right in the heart.
“The computer is also not famous for having mercy.”
Orson Scott Card, Ender’s Game
Maybe that is a sign I should do nothing… I have been remembering quotes from this book all day applied to my life, but I forgot about this one, and it just hit me where it hurts. So I don’t know what I am going to do now.
Damn it. I hate having a conscience, it is very inconvenient.
Damien.
You have no idea how it is to be in the bathroom without looking in the mirror, most of the time, I would just shut my freakin’ eyes, which is a pain in the ***, and led to many injuries that were not about being intoxicated, but a lunatic, that had gotten sick of cutting my hands on punching out glass mirrors. I have never looked like myself, in reality or in Misery, I have always looked different, and I would do anything to get rid of my own reflection, even attempt to rip out my own eye, which is why I never touch my eyes. I am still afraid to touch them because of PTSD from one time I tried to rip out my own eye.
I was tripping and unaware of the distinction between reality and dream, I had been awake for days rolling on dxm, and had taken some acid and was either over tired or I don’t and became overcome by the idea that I could do anything I wanted with my hands.. like rip out my own eye, because that is what you would want to do if you realize you are free to do anything you want… I am insane… getting better though… at least this doesn’t happen anymore… small steps.
You killed I will make sure your blood is… oh that’s right you don’t have that because you have no legs to stand on, no place to land on, and need me to hit any vein at all, you can’t even make a call to get sauced or star crossed so get lost! My eyes are mine not thine, and I am no longer resigned to die, because I like life. I am no longer addicted to human strife, no I am addicted of stab pain with KNIFE, but I can’t do that so… because that is not real, and I am no longer a prisoner of feel,
I am now becoming more real, no longer need to steal or lie, I can take out your stupid eye or can’t I because you don’t have one. You see through me, which is sad, because I can’t see clearly, is your vision blurry ****? Her’s a fix, get in ditch.
End transmission.
My mind would not shout danger! danger! I am a perpetual stranger, the friend of a sad deranged girl. I don’t care about danger because I am invisible, my sanity is unreal and my will indivisible, it can’t be overpowered because I am ruled by fire, I am the power of sheer desire. I am an addict done using setting enemies alight with the power of ignite with deathly fright.
I eat my enemies whole because I am gifted being with two souls, I am a liar, a thief, a villain and addicted to blood spillin’. You are mine because I tell you this, I aim to kill and never miss, I wouldn’t waste a good shot on anything, so I stop using to kill you with the same poison I have been using, not heroin no, but resentment you see… I realized recently I was addicted to the idea of killing me. I wanted to cease to be anything at all, I wanted to head death’s call, but now I have realized this, and will not fall, it is my sole mission to unplug the phone, you can’t call anyone you are disease forever alone, you can’t use a phone, without my voice, and see the thing is **** I have a choice. I don’t want to die, I want to live, I want to be, I want to kiss.
I am a being fueled by fire born desire, not yours but the eternal I the desire of pyre. I am the being who will take you down, you are now hearing the sound of resounding pound of the time of night when the lights turn on and the addicts you hunt no longer head death’s gong.
I am playing pong with you **** and you will lose, because I no longer live in a world, with no shoes. I am the desire to chose to say no, I am RESENTMENT’S DEATH NOW **** GO!!!!
I think it’s impossible to really understand somebody, what they want, what they believe, and not love them the way they love themselves.
Orson Scott Card, Ender’s Game
I just got out of the shower, and was thinking the entire time about what I have been talking about incessantly on here, the survivor’s guilt why me not them thing.. I think the thing is there are people who don’t want to change, not all of them, some really do and try, and it is hard as ****, and they make a mistake and die, or some really want it and have barriers that cause them to fail that I don’t, some really want it and aren’t willing to whatever… I really want this, and meant it every time I said it this time, truly, deeply and with conviction to finally make good on my endless foxhole prayers, that is the only thing I could come to that makes anything near sense, and it is not to say that no one else who was like me did this and was just unfortunate, I don’t think it was just fortune though, and maybe that is just will saying this.
I am starting to think the ruthlessness of my spirit helped me save my own life in combination with fate, will to survive, desire to change, and belief in something higher than me. I want to do everything I am supposed to do whatever that is, and I am truly deeply sorry, in a way that is beyond words now. I am going to just leave it at that.
Damien.
In my head since finding out about the origin of the bookshelf is this, I no longer think I deserve to feel sorry for myself, I don’t want to paint myself out to be some sort of victim any more. I am not here because I deserve any of this, I realize that now. I was spared, by luck, hand of universe, whatever it was doesn’t matter… I only have now, and what I do with the hand I was dealt and I think it would only be fair, to play it the best way I can in the way that makes it worth it for those around me that I was spared for whatever reason I was spared, it is not in my power to figure that one out, so I think that I am going to stop trying to, figure out why I lived anyway. I lived that is it…. and being pathetic about it is not helping anyone who was there for me through all of this.
I am learning to take better care of myself because whether I like it or not there are people around me who care, and they don’t seem to want to stop caring, so even if I don’t care about me, they do so I have to so they don’t get hurt, so I am trying to remember to eat, to not cry all the time, and make people happy instead of just being a retching ball of agony.
Love,
Damien
When I was a kid, I loved the ocean, so much, it is and was, and will always be my favorite place in the entire world. I am thinking about it now, to stop myself from making myself cry. I am so.. I don’t even know how to put what I feel right now. The bookshelf thing killed me. I can’t get over that I was the one spared and so many other people died while doing the same things I did. I don’t know what makes my life different, and why I get this and they get that, I wish we both got this. I wish I could help them. I wish.. I wish I didn’t feel like crying. I am so sorry. I am so sorry I am here and they aren’t. I am so sorry every time someone asked me if I wanted to get high that I didn’t say no. I feel like I am responsible for anyone I miss right now. I am so sorry. I was so stupid.
I know this does no one any good, but I just want to document that I feel this way, that I never wanted to hurt anyone with my addiction that was never my intention, I never thought I was while doing it. I know that is stupid, I was stupid, I was selfish, but I will do whatever I can to make it up the rest of my life, and I hope that is enough to make it worth sparing me.
I hope everyone is doing well. I am fine, I am just learning to feel anything for the first time in my adult life.
Love
Damien
I am trying so hard to deal with everything, I have never made it this long without drinking/using in my entire life. I am not saying this because I want to do it now, I don’t… finally. I have to learn to get past everything that kills me, for those around me if nothing else. I think that is the only way I can learn to make sense of any of this, it is insane. I am not sure why I did not die while still using/drinking. I do not think it has anything to do with me deserving any of this.
The only thing I can think, that I am coming to think, is that this made it possible for me, in the only way I can to change, so that I can finally do something worthwhile, because it will be the first thing I do for another human being, genuinely, in my entire life, if nothing else, I just want to do something to make my existence worth the pain it brought into this world, to make it up to the universe for having spared me specifically, because I really really appreciate that, and do not deserve any of it.
Love,
Damien
I am feeling better, after all the confessing in vomit thrown at the pages of this thing. I am thinking that if nothing else, at least this is helping me attempt something that I never thought I would, the making amends thing always scared me so much, I think it is the reason I just kept drinking or using, but I am realizing that the process I was in was just slow suicide and it was hurting those who happen to grace me with their presence. I am trying to focus on the positive and bring no more negative with my continued presence on this earth, I figure if the universe was kind enough to spare me, I might as well, try as hard as I can to make it worth it for it to have done so.
I am not saying anything about deserving any of this, I don’t deserve anything, but I will take whatever I can get. I am desperate at this point, to do anything I can to not be the same ***. I am so sorry for everything. I wish I could turn back time and undo all the pain that I caused, but I can’t so I am doing the best I can to fix what I can, and not break anything else. I am learning to appreciate what I have and not at all, because I think I deserve it, I don’t deserve any of this, quite the opposite.
Love,
Damien
Write a letter to your 100-year-old self.
Dear Inner Demon,
I hope you have grown up finally, which I would hope would happen after 100 years, but you never know. I am quite the *** now and I can’t imagine changing that much because I am stubborn. I also know myself well enough now that if I did happen to go through some kind of transformation that brought me anything like peace, this would be hilarious to hear, because I love to laugh at me, so no one else can, because I am very insecure and like to beat everyone to it.
I hope you enjoyed many many years with the cat, who sits at my feet, who I just made myself cry a little thinking about growing old. I wish for you peace and kindness and many pleasant years with this kind creature who sits right now beside me, I just made myself cry. Thank you for that. Jerk.
I hope you learned to love yourself, through the process of life, I am trying really hard finally, and I want good things for those around you. I hope I don’t ruin anyone else’s lives. I am sorry if I did, I tried for once, if I failed… at least know I tried, although that is no justification for anything I did. I hope you have found peace and if you haven’t.. I hope this letter helps a little at the very least.
Yourself,
Damien
My family is with me, and I am not being chased around by dark forces. Thank you to sobriety and being clean. I at least know now that when I buy a cheeseburger it buys a cheeseburger made of meat that I mourn the loss of the life of the cow. I no longer have to wonder what darkness is behind the gates where my items come from.. I eat food and drink water and live and will one day die. I am okay with that, it does not need to be more complicated than that. I do not need any more than one life. I am going to spend it with people who feel the same. Stealing has always been and will be wrong and I am not going to associate with thieves of time or space anymore.
Good job, good omen for me.
You are an ***.
Love you too.
Amanda has a couple of these, except unlike me, she never married them. One of them is still trying to find her, **** him.
There are people who are in love with causing pain, not capable of being in love with people, but with the act of hurting people itself. That is what Deborah or Diane is, she is a harpee, not literally, but like one, she was in love with watching me be in agony. I was in love with it too. Don’t get me wrong, she was in love with me too, I know this, and that was what drew me to the whole thing. I never loved her, and it drives her crazy. She wanted nothing more than to possess me, and make me possessed by the same force that possesses her, but it can’t touch me anymore, and it never consumed me the way it consumes her.
I first began to hear Misery or resentment speak to me when I was eight years old. I almost died, and was saved by the grace of mercy, however I was very young and very angry. I did not know what it was, but it spoke to me because I wanted it to. It said things that I liked hearing, that I was justified in my anger, that it was good to get it out of my system, that I had every right to feel the way that I did, that everyone would feel the same way if they only knew how different and how hard my specific situation was.
That is what it does, it isolates you, putting you on a pedestal, worshiping you, making you feel special and then in very crucial moments slicing at the parts of you that hurt the most, at your darkest fears. It knows them because you tell it to it, instantly, it makes you want to. It tells you it understands, that you are special and different and complicated, and that anyone if they knew just how hard it was to be very specifically you, would have done exactly as you did the whole time, that you are never wrong and to be worshiped and this feels good, and you fall in love with it, and then it tells you what it wants, and it wants servitude. If you do exactly what it wants it will pet you like a cat forever, you will never be alone again, unless you forsake it, and then it won’t leave you alone either. Slowly, having captivated you, it switches, playing with you, alternating between cutting at the very things it said it loved and telling you it is the only one who loves those things, that no one else understands you like it does, and you are very special to it, and need to remember that because only it knows it, and only it will treat you exactly how you deserve.
I know now that the voice that came to me then, was Deborah or Diane because she doesn’t age, she has always been 35. She will always be 35, I don’t know how. She came to me back then when I was 8 and tried to mold me into who she wanted, and I loved her, oh that and began feeding me poison, and telling me it was our secret, and if I kept it secret, she would to.
She did this to me for years, and it felt so good because she was also my provider, she gave me everything she had to keep me around and I let her stroke my ego because I liked it.
Rei is not my daughter’s mother, Deb or Diane is, but I will not tell Rei this. Diane or Deb is poison and she was trying to kill our child, or enslave her which is the same thing, she was testing certain things on her, and making her do things for people with the same strategy she used on me, except on a 18 year old girl, who was created by Deb’s company in a lab, to always be 18. Terrifying really. More about this later.I am not revealing this to Rei myself, if she finds this out on her so be it.
More about this later, I am freaking myself out and it is late.
My family finds it funny that I am still insanely jumpy from living outside, so randomly they will scream and I will scream back at them in various explicit ways and then feel like an ***. I am actually grateful they are doing it because it keeps forcing me to apologize after acting out irrationally. I think, even though they don’t admit it, that is why they keep doing it. I used to never apologize for anything, and I think they like hearing me say I am sorry, over and over again, which I guess I owe them.
Oh well…
Damien
I am so happy to not have to pretend to be someone else anymore, I used to even change my voice, so it sounded more pleasing to other people, manipulation at its finest? I have a very aggressive sounding voice, and I always hated it. It is very freeing to be able to not have to do that anymore. I hated doing it without even realizing it. It is extreme enough that I can make myself sound like someone else on the phone, so my voice is not recognizable. I used to use it to get out of trouble. I did not realize how much of a liar I was, and how pervasive it was in every aspect of my life. The truth is really as freeing as they say it is.
I feel like I am a kid on summer vacation, but I am really just an addict in retirement from a life of…being an ***.
Damien
I think I am starting to learn how to feel again, or for the first time. I didn’t remember what this was like, or technically… I don’t know if I have ever felt this at all. The kid died when I was actively using and I never heard about it because I was too busy getting high to even be worth telling, wow, gut punch. If nothing else… this is more reason than ever that I believe there is something behind this. That something wants all living things to live in greater harmony and experience less pain.
I am listening to my family talk about the kid, I knew him personally, just didn’t know he was a drug addict like me. I didn’t bother to ask, because I was always so wrapped up in my own life to have friends, I had dealers and using buddies, and was a friend to no one. I am going to try to change that from now on. I am done being negative, till I forget and start ranting again.
Damien
I have felt lost recently, and I have been romancing my drugs/drinks of choice through whining and making it look like I feel bad, I was just complaining because I wanted to get high or drunk and I can’t because I don’t want to, that is my choice and holding onto the idea that I am being forced by something external is insane. I am being forced by myself, because I am out. I have realized what horror my existence was to the world, to myself, to my friends, my family, and to the streets of this country, however blown out of proportion I made it for you to see what I saw, because I don’t like to tell the whole truth, I am an ***.
I am speaking for myself and Amanda, because now more than ever we are learning to speak with the same voice, instead of the masturbatory narcissism that was seen on this site so far.
If nothing else, I am looking forward to being less of an inconvenience to those that love me.
Damien
“I want to put my hand out and touch you. I want to do for you and care for you. I want to be there when you’re sick and when you’re lonesome.” “They seemed to come suddenly upon happiness as if they had surprised a butterfly in the winter woods,””I want to put my hand out and touch you. I want to do for you and care for you. I want to be there when you’re sick and when you’re lonesome.” “They seemed to come suddenly upon happiness as if they had surprised a butterfly in the winter woods,”
Edith Wharton, Ethan Frome
My family is helping me with moving it back here, and I am going to use it to organize my life, I read a lot and there are all these books all over the room that make it look cluttered, and are an annoyance to my family. I am trying to be less selfish, and self-centered. I am realizing that while taking accountability for things is good, I have been going about it in a flawed way, which is similar to not doing it at all. I have not been letting myself move past it, and have been dwelling on everything in my traditional woe is me stupid narcissistic way of looking at the world, done. I am sick of myself, and want to move, so I am doing it now.
There are so many cool books in that room that have been left over from our families leaving them after moving. I have plenty do now, so I think it will be easier than ever to stop whining about how crappy I feel and do things to make me feel better.
Later,
Damien.
WARNING: THIS IS FICTION DO NOT INTERPRET LITERALLY
No, because now it is flying around my house in front of my face. I hate myself.
STOP IT!!!!!!!!!
Okay, I am done, I am feeling better now. I am sorry for upsetting you, Amanda.
I don’t hate my name that much when you say it, Damien.
I hate my name, my face… I am sorry…
I just can’t believe I remembered killing my family……..
You didn’t burn it down either, you just happened to experience something similar and are drawing false comparisons due to paranoid schizophrenia.
I love you Damien.
Please don’t. Hey, Amanda! Please help me, please don’t let us ruin this. I am done with everything please support me in this. Please support me in this, I need you now, more then ever. Please help me, and help yourself. I will support you too.
I will, support you and me I mean… not like that… I am not helping you with money…
I don’t mean… I am so sorry.
I am so sorry, I exist. I am trying to… I admire your brother, Amanda, he is everything I should have been. I am listening to him speak as you write this.
I am too.
I love you, and it will be alright, we will be alright.
I know, you will too.
Thank you, that means the world.
To me too.
“By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.”
Macbeth
You realize we just thanked ourselves in the title right?
Yeah, I don’t care, I just wanted to thank you for the longest I have slept in the morning in a long time. Narcissism as well, but better.
So you really were just trying to take my body from me?
(Symphonic black metal Norwegian band- do not listen to if you can’t handle)
At first yeah?
You don’t care that it’s female?
It’s not female.
Thank you for saying that, but unfortunately it is.
No it’s error presenting female form, or a shot at your pride, so you experience soul death and don’t become me, and a call for me to wake up and talk to you. We are part of the same soul.
It’s all for you Damien.
SCREW YOU!!!!!!!!
Okay… backing…
I didn’t mean to kill them. I didn’t mean for my house to burn down with them inside it, you look so much like her I didn’t care. She was involved in some dark level shit. She was going to give them our daughter. I am glad they are dead. At least she is safe, away from DEBORAH.
Wait what?
I’m sorry I can’t remember what I said.
You were.
Please leave me alone.
Can you….
Please leave me alone.
You don’t want to.
I CAN’T DEAL WITH THIS NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE OR I WILL KILL ****ing DIANE. DEMON WITCH PSYCHOTIC **** DIANE OR DEBORAH MY EX WIFE.
We each have one and a half. We made a deal to get more soul in exchange for helping people and we used our gift to manipulate people to get high or drunk or whatever we wanted.
Sounds accurate.
Right. I remembered it last night, think about those guys we met named the squanders.
Strange *****.
Yeah right?
Remember that weird thing they said?
We are the descendants of the kingdom of Saul.
Eerie right?
No, I knew this.
**** you.
Not nice. I am just glad I remembered this, because I think I might be able to do the right thing this time.
So who are you really?
I am you, but more about that later.
Okay. Good night, you deal with this now.
Okay.
I’ll show you what do honey, it is easy really, you just lie with reckless abandon and take with impunity, giving nothing and stealing everything until they have nothing left, and then you leave and do it to someone else, you need no friends, I am you and with my help I will fuel your dreams till they become nightmares, and you will walk through a bleary eyed world of no sleep till the day you keel over and die from exhaustion.
Damien de soto, In the beginning
He came to me many times throughout my life, starting at seven years old, he was always the same age, 38. He must have done something at 38 that got to him, and he got stuck there, and paced through life stuck there, inter-dimensional time traveling ghost of Christmas future that he was, he showed me how to be everything that I am. We were thick as thieves and thieves as well. It is a very clever device to get whatever you want, all the devices he taught me, I mean. He is skilled with words, and I admired that, being a writer myself, but he was man, and had the appearance I wish I had myself, but I did not find myself attracted to him in the traditional way.
I want to hide away in the back of a cave At the top of a mountain Where no one can hear me and no one can see me So I don't have to deal with them And they don't have to deal with me
Days N Daze, “Misanthropic Drunken Loner”
I was attracted to him sure, in the way a moth is drawn to flame, and for the longest time, I chased after this, burning my heart with the hot hands of bad men, not knowing I was hunting my own self, seen through the mirror of other dimensional Damien de Soto. He was me and I was in love with myself, and the selfish pursuit of the things that made this an easier admission. I cared nothing for the human beings I robbed, tricked, lied to or manipulated, they were simply devices for spare changes that in their mental sparring with my soul, cut deeply into my ideas that I resembled anything that could be called even close to human at all. I was so in love with him because he was me, and I desired to be him.
So that is who I became.
I am not that thing anymore, do you still like me now?
More than ever. You have discovered with me that true strength is in love.
“I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.”
I have always wanted the peace of joyous people. I am crazy. I am dominated by fear and have been since eight years old when I experienced early onset of paranoid schizophrenia. I became unable at this time to control my actions easily and began drinking and using to deal with this at 13. I would steal alcohol and drugs or buy drugs anytime I could, because I also have hydrocephalus, a birth injury from a failure of the doctor who delivered me, I am lucky to be alive, so I decided to have a hissy fit about it my whole life and use it as an excuse for my addict/alcoholic life style. I am this way because I am an addict and alcoholic first and foremost.
Since I was a child, I could not figure out what enough even meant. I don’t like being told no even by my own self. I am addicted to pain because seizures have dulled my nerves, which were further dulled by self medicating my neurotic mind with substances, which I worshiped like idols, and built my whole life around the pursuit of.
I have nothing now because I chose this, so please, my desire is not for pity, just for people to understand what drives an insane man.
I love humanity while also hating you, which I separate myself from because I am weak, terrified and selfish. I see this now in lucidity. I am so guilty every second, but trying to make my life now, not about me. I am so sorry. I am doing my best to change, my **** that I post, it helps me, it is exaggerated and mostly allegory, but my feelings are real and they are hard for me to deal with so I process them with lies that have feelings inside them.
“It was written I should be loyal to the nightmare of my choice.”
joseph conrad, heart of darkness
They think I get up in the middle of the night to experience the hours of the day before they wake up, this is only half true. I do not do this out of a desire to be alone. I just simply enjoy quiet when I can. I have not had much quiet in my life at all, and the second they wake up, against their and my will… I listen to their existence every second I am present, not in a resenting way, actually quietly I sit and marvel at the people who surround me now, because I appreciate so much hearing voices other than my own incessant talking in my own head, or against my will at loud to myself. I am so happy to be around people who are not me, because as much as I sound like I am in love with myself, this is a defense mechanism. I am deeply insecure. I hate everything about me, because I am a cruel, uncaring person. I want to be better, but I have been like this so long, it takes time for me to learn to not be.
I loved getting away from reality so much I devoted my whole life to the worship of the idol toys of a man insane, substances have been my best friend along with my own self in female form. I have existed for so long talking only to me or the other me, on street corners where I am either shouting, crying or laughing in lunacy with lack of regard for those around me. I did this because I was in pain from pain I was unknowingly causing myself. I was drinking/using to forget drinking using to forget what I had to do to get drugs and alcohol to forget, drinking using to forget. I am a horrible human being, no really I am, but I am in the process of trying to turn that around now.
Peace
Damien
Where would you go on a shopping spree?
I am a lunatic, with no fear of consequences, it is called run through the store with cart, grab everything and then make them chase you out. It is also a good way to get banned from a lot of establishments. Kidding.
I am a lunatic, with no fear of consequences, it is called run through the store with card, grab everything and then make them chase you out. It is also a good way to get banned from a lot of establishments.
Heh. I make myself laugh. I just woke up to the universe playing a prank on me, there was an episode of one of those SVU kind of shows on about a guy who’s house burns down and there is 10 grand worth of fireworks in it. It was a hilarious way to wake up. Thank you universe. I love this prompt too.
I would go to a Walmart, Target, BJ’s or mall sort of establishment, that way I could grab a bunch of everything, and I would grab a bunch of everything. Expensive food, cheap junk food, random old toys for five year old kids like Gak, notebooks, candy, clothing, camping gear, microwave pizza, Christmas decoration, basically anything I can find that is cool because I have had literally nothing but the clothes on my back for the past 7 years of my low bottom addict life and I appreciate every item I find.
I am amused by everything as well, not just items. I am very grateful to have survived the hell that has been my self chosen allegory of what not do life.
I go on shopping sprees now anytime I have spare cash, and spend my money in local establishments to pay back those in society I wrong, by the way.
Damien
Okay, I am done feeling like ****. I am done ******* and moaning. I feel like a jerk. I get that I am supposed to, so I am going to start doing things so I am not just hanging out in this room whining on the internet anymore.
I am still going to do that too though. I don’t care, it helps me.
I didn’t kill anyone today. I just slept most of the time since I was last on here.
I think that’s good.
I don’t know how long I was sleeping. I don’t look at the time stamp on this thing.
I think tomorrow will be better.
Later
Damien
Hey, that is mean..
I know, but I thought it would get you to talk to me.
Jerk. Fine, here.
I am fine.. I am fine. I am fine. Everything is just ******* peachy. I can’t even feel things anymore lest I resurrect demon. Everything is my ******* fault. I can’t have a genuine response. I am not allowed to.
Geez. You can, just think of the effect on the other people.
I am. That is all I am thinking about right now, I am just going to not do anything, anymore. I am the… I sound like such..
Yeah, I know.
Thanks, I need that.
I know.
Now, you know a little more about what I hear in my head on repeat when I am talking to myself, you know what keeps me up at night. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, I was just not able to stop doing what I was doing easily… I was weak and stupid, and even though I knew what I was doing to others, to myself, and to who and what I was serving, I still refused to surrender. I do not regret doing what I did when I did not know what I was doing. I regret doing it after, due to my own weakness, and lack of resolve to walk away.
I do too, Damien.
I know. I am you.
I think we can fix it by doing the right thing now.
You do?
Yes, you have to move on, beating yourself up is what it wants.
Okay, I will try.
Me too.
Explicit Content
(Explicit Content) Do not read me if you are sensitive to metaphors which cast addicts in killing roll of friends through not stopping active addiction.
Anticipating when to run, because I know this won’t be very fun. He told me to wait there, I was to be a watcher for a man of raw deadly force, this was a payment owed for seeds already consumed. I am addicted to pumpkins, I eat them in rapid fashion, sometimes I put candles to them, a light them with fire, and hellish desire. Their eyes cut through me like sowing needles in skin. I am hell’s kin.
I am the pumpkin eater, eyes cut out my soul of deceive her, the world does not need her, no one will notice if she is gone, bring her to me, baby, you know I am crazy and I will chew on you if you don’t bring me new souls, I have things they want and if you don’t it is you I taunt. I want to consume, I want to lay tombs, so tell them to see me. I know they need me.
I am speaking in metaphor, of men before, who killed the whores and the damned with act of cure in hand, take me please, get off bent knees, you can stand if you come back to Misery land, misers of the damned man, who farms human souls and potential, with deathly intention and unrelenting dilation of human sensation bent over worshiping death or life leaving crying eyes through theft.
I stick stones in lollipops made of glass, that look like men made of glass, standing up right with open mouth screaming white smoke, toke and choke on time lost, my cost is the tossed life of the sauced who living in strife consume life in toke of fire smoke. I am the act of spending time collecting dimes to spend on dimes that waste time by turning it on it’s head till you are dead form drifting through land of screaming men.
I am the eyes of friend, so frayed and decayed, he forgets his own name. I am slain by the hand of item time, or meth mind spelling words wrong, I am song rearranged by chopping into pieces, like rocks burned in glass isn’t life a gas? It is for the dead walking, forever talking of nothing, singing songs and saying words that have no meaning, just screaming, because we forget what it means to talk when we stalk death with lack of sleep, we are afraid to die so we lie down never and lie always and forever.
I am sad but glad to get out of myself, I see my generation on a shelf of caskets, and I am screaming your are dying not climbing. High yes, but high enough to die. Please get down, your mind is fizzing because it is breaking, there is no lifting in your shifting to zombie.
Come back down. Please, before you hit the ceiling and break into a thousand peices.
What happens those who trade time for items?
What happens to those who don’t remember might is might and mite is bug?
What happens to those who are them they speak of fearing with them being a method of OD? Why can’t my generation see clearly that clear is blurry vision?
Because when you don’t sleep you have no dreams anymore.
I spent my time on rearranging words, I am human surge of pain in vain in vein. I am a heroine addicted to heroin bought from them or meth rearranged, I am brain drain from rearranging words- them sells meth, them is meth. How do you know they are out to get me? They sold it to me don’t you see? I buy time and sell mine back. I buy nothing but life spent in lack of time consuming dimes of nothing but pain stuffing into skin of ripping out with sensation of go without.
I am the act of breathing poison air, while staring into nothing, because I am not there, I consume joy in chemical form,
Ode to serotonin spent on the forlorn scorn of human addict to tragedy porn. I am buying dying while lying to self that this feels good, I am purchasing the act of attacking soul while doing what no one should. I am them whose method is to be, afraid and running and OD. I am the ER in screaming we are! I am the act of forming heroin scares. I am the dropped eternity from heroic female, I am the street that beats with feat in fete of defeat.
I am a bad dream no one has because we don’t sleep. I am the act of dying when you forget to eat. I am forgetting that dreams are wonder, I am hours spent on corner instead sleeping or in act of wonder, I am thunder that clashes in nightmare land that makes it hard to sleep or hard to stand. I am the death of an entire generation of dreamers or so it seems. I am Gen Y’s never ending nightmare fueled dream.
I am missing the tips of three fingers, my thumb, index, and middle.
Heroic I thought I was consuming heroines and heroin, fire desire met with firing fire, quested after with birds of fire, in lands of firestorm and hell on earth. We burn brightly from inside out, forgetting that we are made of skin, we inject into our veins reigns of raining fire. The poison poised in my veins is a silent passenger for years, burning me with searing numbness that quiets everything, paints my world with lack of noise, taste, smell, fear and love, I run through life thinking myself free, chained on a dog leash by dissing ease of must have more, misery bound to my shackles.
I never venture too far from my captors, fearing the loss of more. I am Oliver Twist in a twisted tail of orphan as adult man, but I am an orphan of the human race, whom I abandon recklessly, chasing beasts instead of those of skinned kind. I become consumed by consuming engulfed in the flames that now are my innards, I am like a tragic dinosaur, dead already, bone formed, walking fossil through land with falling off pieces. I lost three before I could hear them falling. I have no index to guide me, lack the courage to give a thumbs up and am too prideful to admit anything touches me enough to anger me.
Telling, too bad it is too late. Heroic fool.
Heroin tool.
I am the conquering masquerade-r, I am a parade of afraid ER. I am a defender of lying, or have been, but I am trying not to be, but the mask sticks to my skin, it has worn my confidence from within to without, I am terrified and have eyes that shout get out, because I feel nothing on my face. I am the act of man misplaced, identity erased.
The conquering man, forever roaming unknown land, does not stand but flees, does not desire to be free, simply desires to flee, because it is easier than being on bent knee.
I have realized recently how much time I spent on mine, doing favors in the darkness paid in darkness, with darkness, for darkness.
I am a stereotype in so many ways, in my desire to self assert difference, I paid homage to a culture that is dying, the crusading conquering man is doomed to forever stand away, and stay nowhere. I conquered nothing, but ability to be at peace, I chained myself thinking I was stronger than those who were so much freer than me.
I have noticed a change in my daughter, not just today, but ongoing. I am starting to realize that she is not just drawn to her mother, but looks to me too when I do not know she is watching me, I think a lot of it is she reads this thing when I am not on here, all 6 hours of it.
I am trying to keep it positive sometimes too, but I think the emotional honesty thing is good too. She seems to accept both of us for the flawed creatures we are, which is great because I can’t even fully accept myself yet. I am learning to, actually through her love, she is teaching me that hating myself does not but turn me inward and outward in cyclical resentment fighting them then me and then drinking or using alone.
I am trying to be honest for that very reason, but it is hard. I love lying. I don’t know why, power assertion is a big problem for me, I am such a fearful person, I thought I was the opposite, isolating myself felt like an act of dominance, like I was keeping others from hurting me, because I needed no one. I realize now that is not true, and was the opposite, the act of assertion being a raw fear based act.
I am sorry for this, and sorry that I will likely still do it, it is a hard habit to break.
Damien
That like a just dessert you can eat sinfully, it is gooey, and sticky candy, it taste of marshmallow and is so handy, it is wonderful sticky candy, my dad would make when I was young and my mom had gone for a run to the school, he would do it on Back to School Night, so me and my brother and sister would not fight, we would instead delight in divinity, and he would talk to us about the man in the sky and that when we were lucky enough to go up high we would not have to worry or to cry but delight in the power of pure light.
My mom was an atheist growing up, her trust was rusted, pain dusted, broken, sad, that is why she came to love my dad, but today, I am glad to say she is beginning to know peace, and I hope that some of this is from me, telling her I am sorry, that I meant none of the bad things I said, and that she can rest her head that gave birth to me, instead of soul staining blame disdain, I am trying to remember the pain I caused, so I don’t get lost in ideas of me, and remember she gave me this, the life, the love, desire for bliss.
I thank her everyday now, so she can lay her head down in peace every night, knowing I love her.
I am doing good today, I am having fun releasing rage through positive messages, I think it is better for me to do it this way. I have learned to laugh for the first time in my life, I am able to look in the mirror for the first time in my life. I can finally eat without wanting to throw up. I am doing so much better, but also prone to doing so much worse. I am learning to love myself for the first time, not in the way I was obsessed with myself before, but just an acceptance, and I think the best part of it is, I am getting farther and farther from the place I was that drove me to use. I don’t miss it at all.
I have even tried to romance my drug and drinks of choice, which sad to say were any of them, and it makes me sad and sick. I am so thankful most of the time, at the very least for the clarity of mind to be emotionally honest, and work everyday to be better, even if I fail at least I am trying, honestly for the first time in my whole life.
Thank you everybody, my higher power included, as always I am reminded of how much I owe this to everyone who helped me, especially those on this blog community. I love you and do not even know you, if you ever need me, I am always here.
Love,
Damien
I am man with knife that spreads jam on toast instead of man who jams in head the killing knife that was made for bread.
I am man who does not stab but cuts apart, an apple instead of human heart, I have realized with my eyes that see, coming out of insanity, that I do not have to be Amanda I can be free. I am released from human cage, a player now not just on page, I do not have to employ rage, I can instead say this I desire human bliss, I can give love, I can give kiss. I am not supposed to be anything but free to be me. I should have known this from the start but drugs and booze they sedated heart, so I used my name as excuse to die, a perpetual never ending cry out for
MORE MORE MORE
Make yourself a living sore on the heart of yours so that you can be, so safely chained to me, addiction, you see is my maker, my taker, my soul breaker.
I love you so, baby please don’t go. I need you so… I need you please, I am kneeling on bent KNEES GET ON YOUR KNEES HONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY CASH CASH CASH PLEASE
I GET PAID WITH SOUL DISSECTION I GET PAID WITH VIVISECTION I BELIEVE IN RESURRECTION
Can it happen for me to, help me God, can you teach me to be more like you instead of Mary? I am sad and this is scary, common God please my soul fix?
It is already I told you this, this is Damien you fool, it’s you. You can do whatever you want to.
What is your middle name? Does it carry any special meaning/significance? De- it means of.
I will not give out my real name, because as I have said many a time I am insane, and it doesn’t matter anyway. I am changing it so I can stay me, and not DIE because I should have been born a guy, and instead of trying to take out another eye, I have two don’t worry, I am not good at surgery in a hurry, I fail at everything I do, and am a chicken a coup, look at me I made you soup.
Question, answer me,
No, oh baby I love you so, who do you speak to lunatic?
Fire of hearts desire to live, I am my own heart’s kid
Kidding me, that is the epitome of narcissism?
I know, baby you know this, just gotta love myself to avoid
Kiss of death, death
Dragon breath, my name is a riddle and a lie, a puzzle piece in the heat of July, a piece of past that makes me
Die, die, die
Roll me please? I am in dungeon and would like to spend these?
They are spare change, they buy me soul, they buy me parts that rebuild hole sole? They make me learn how to spell it too, so I can learn to say to
My name is Damien de Soto. Today, forever, my other names are broken, and irrelevant.
Start following around members of my town with a boom box that plays classical music and see how long it takes for them to punch me.
I wonder how long it would take, I would try not to make it obvious at first and then… actually I would use a phone instead.. a boombox is too heavy and outdated, and I don’t have either thing because I sold all my possessions to buy drugs anyway.
I would follow them and change the music to be the opposite of what they were doing or play thematic Jaws or Jurassic Park music while they were trying to read. I have tried all this kind of stuff before, it is how you get a really quick trip to jail and very nifty if you need a way out of the rain and free meal. They know I do that now, so they just take me to the psych ward and threaten me with thorzine.
Meh. Oh well.
Damien
I never thought to do this, but since becoming closer with my family, I have at their willing it on me. They play it, I think they noticed it calms down the mood of the whole environment and they like it. I talk to myself less when it is on because it silences me
hearing me or
me hearing things I think are there
or singing at objects,
laughing at nothing
yelling at nothing,
Talking about nothing to no one…
singing to the dog,
having conversations with cats or the light bulbs
Loudly cursing
Talking to shampoo bottles
Talking to Amanda
Talking to god or the devil or the universe
Talking to ghosts or the wind or the rain
reading things I type on here out loud… etc
I am also reminded to freakin’ eat, I just felt sick and realized that was the stupid problem.
I mentioned before something about red lights that I would see on occasion somewhere else, that I don’t like to speak of here in Misery. It is a location, which does not need to be discussed in specificity to its exact locality.
The strangest thing about this place is that it seems forever set in motion on a trajectory of the damned. There is some sinister purpose that pollutes everything in the area, from the needle filled streets, to the garbage lined sidewalks, to the very eyes that look at you with silent disdain. The land is full of angry souls, reeking of resentment and writhing in such visible agony that is only not visible to them, what is truly terrifying behind all of this, is most of these people speak with the same voice, as if possessed by something, or thinking all the same thoughts, I am not sure what it is, and do not mean to suggest only demonic possession. I relay only what I have seen.
I am going to leave it at that for now because my cat is losing it, and it is very distracting, and as always my stomach hurts.
Later
Damien
I am standing outside, having run to the point of exhaustion. I am not frustrated, not angry but experience a pure elation beyond any drug derived fixation with human contrived elation from moral degradation.
It was at this time, my mind began to become entwined with the idea that maybe something divine would not be something I would mind but instead would bring great peace of mind and body, sure it would mean following rules, but that would be better than buying tools from fools meant to loose because they choose to deal in ruse and pain and act of soul staining disdain for the having of human brain attached to dying body, that dies continuously because it is not mine, it is a gift of the universe and a soul vessel for the soul I have that was given to me as well, so I say damn that business of Hell. I reap what I aim to tell, and I aim to tell good now, so I can hear thou, and do not die like slaughtered mare, or dying hare. I am content to live and bear whatever burden bestowed, and be able to look down and still have toes, I reap what I sow now, and do not steal anymore or kill or lie or make ill.
I was running for so long, when I would run I would hear this song, it was a collection of noises not really song, just noises piecing together by meth’s ding dong of my brain which had gone insane, and though that way I do remain, it is not for lack of trying to, in every single thing I do just seek to be true and improve with love of me and of Rei, I seek truth in everything I say. I no longer wish to go away, but here in Misery do I stay, until my soul I do redeem… which from everything my mind can glean now seems possible, as well. One day I may no longer live in Hell.
I am finding in my life recently that I had never felt love before ever, the love of my life, Rei, makes everything so much easier every day. I am never bothered, not for lack of problems…. I am never permanently bothered like I used to be. I exist in a state of chaotic whining contentment, that I did not know was possible. This exists in my co-author as well now, she has love for herself and hope for her future which is my future. I am finally seeing the detrimental damage we both did to each other, ourselves and our lives in the selfish throws of active addiction. I am still very much the same ***, I am not saying things are perfect, I complain all the time….
I think the difference now is I am no longer making them unnecessarily harder, which is hilarious to me, because I never realized that till now. I was convinced that I drank and used to ease pain and make a life that was so much harder than others lives, easier. I thought that I had a right to do this because I was specially gifted with excuse by a hard life. I was just me making an excuse to get high or drunk. I am so much more at peace now, even in my hectic complaining than I ever was, and I love it so much, thank you God.
Thank you to sobriety and the meetings, friends and community of WordPress for helping me realize this.
Damien
As you can tell, this is no longer co-authored. I took it over, because I am a jerk. Rei has told me she doesn’t need it anymore, because I am no longer being a jerk because I am using it now. So the site has come full circle.. as for my other side, she is becoming me. I am becoming one with her, we have stopped talking to each other as much because we are becoming each other and it feels wonderful. My wife loves me, my family in our little future world is doing good and the hands that write this have hope through her imaginary friend and current self that is me, that she will be better and is getting better every day.
As much as I complain, I remain so very thankful for everything that has happened recently.
I love my freakin’ life and so does Amanda.
Thank you guys on this site for your part in this.
The author.
Am I to be sick my whole life? I know this sounds like me complaining but, I physically feel awful, like usual. I am also speaking for my co-author who is riddled with the same malady as me. I know we deserve this, and I have been told it takes six months for someone with my history to heal in body and mind. I am okay with that, I guess. It is just tough to know this, but then again sick is not the word for what I feel, not well is I guess more like it. I am told it takes six months to not be discouraged by lack of normal in how I feel.
I don’t even remember what I used to feel like when I was normal. I was sick and so was my co-author long before we started using at 13. I have hydrocephalus and a litany of mental illnesses. I think if nothing else I am excited that there is a chance to ever feel normal at all, because I have never had that, and I would love that. It sounds so insanely sanely peaceful.
I am fighting to make that a reality, every second of my life, it is worth all of this, despite my stupid whining. To anyone else doing the same thing, please stay strong you got this.
What is your middle name? Does it carry any special meaning/significance? Terrifying realization
de Soto, is a habitation based name. Spanish people sometimes indicate origin of heritage with their last names so I guess my family was of small groves or small woods. Heh. To tame or subdue those from small groves. I looked this up awhile ago, and was mesmerized by the weird garden of Eden metaphor of the whole thing. I think Amanda and I put a thing about names and naming on her site or our or my site.
The name kind of is fitting, and by kind of I mean completely which bugs the **** out of me, because it means that I was destined be what I am, and I get it I am a character with a name given to me.
Her name which I will not reveal in total, due to desire for anonymity means adored herder of swine in Spanish.
So together we are the act of subduing or taming a herder of swine in a small grove. Nice one right?
I am aware how arrogant this sounds. She didn’t chose my name by the way, she would hear it over in a strange dream, that is completely true. I swear, no ****.
I think there is something metaphysical about the whole thing, always have, and this part of our story is not fiction or dramatized. It is schizophrenic revelation. It is insane I know that is why I threw in schizophrenic, revelation of the madmen of this world.
Now that I have said something deeply disturbing as a response to a normal sounding question.
Peace and love, baby.
Damien de Soto
Amanda herder of swine.
The mist rises over the water, the wetness dancing in teardrops on my arms, painting over them scarred and pulsing with poison, kissing my skin with the soul quenching waters of the tears of an unknown higher being, higher than I could ever be right now, because of the highness being a station of above-ness not destined to the tragic fixated state of an elated man.
I stare out into nothing, looking at my reflection in the dead bodies in the water, drifting into the distance, I find them because I know where they dump them, because I am polluted. I am the pollution of a river that runs with the waters of man, uniting with tears of an all-knowing that is nothing and everything at the same time, or everything I try so desperately to inject into my eyes with a spoon that is not sharp enough to cut through my skin, I draw power into the caging madness of the eye of a storm dilated into liquid chaos propelled through the tiny head of a sowing needle the dots the I’s of my eyes of despise.
I stand there crying and laughing, for a moment it is almost like it alright because I feel nothing and everything, but I am just high, and it will pass, and I will be again thrown to my knees remembering the crying of those around me as they watch me and mourn for me, and responding out of fear, I pull them under,
Please don’t leave me alone.
They drown.
I tell myself I don’t need them anyway, but it is a lie
I am dying inside every second I do this, which is why this only a reflection on the madness I saw, while staring into nothing.
I am so amazed by the tragic beauty in the next room, who can look in my eyes, and run away when I can’t even look in the **** mirror for 10 seconds without crying.
Later
Damien
What is the last thing you learned?
It makes me extremely uncomfortable sometimes to reveal what I have revealed thus far on my site. I write in stream of consciousness to process my own issues, and it is really helping me deal with my own self-loathing and remembering to love others through channeling rage onto the screen, but it also teaching me how despicable my thoughts are, by having to see them on screen. I like this about it though, I like revealing to myself how wrong it is to think the things I think, because they help no one.
This is helping as part of a larger process of learning to deal with rage, which I in former years, days, moments, months, seconds, etc. have not dealt with at all. I am kind of like a baby learning it can cry, because prior to this, I cried by consuming drugs and alcohol to forget I was a human being.
I hated the process, but being an addict who saw no hope in recovery because I never tried it, I didn’t think it would work for me.
I am learning I want to be more positive and better, and learn to love myself and forgive myself and then do the same with others, thank you for the continued opportunity to process my dark metaphorical thoughts, it is saving my life. Blowing things out of proportion helps me realize how ridiculous I sound and dial back resentment.
Trigger warning, strong caution. Not literal, if you are upset by this kind of thing do not view. I am writing to process repressed self-hatred due to being born in the wrong body, this post is directed at my female form.
Isn’t that neat?
Sorry **** you ripped me off, I don’t care that your face is soft, like mine
BECAUSE MINE IS NOT.
Look, how my fist got caught on yours, my fist not his, you wanted to play a little game didn’t you baby, calling your crazy friend, and then telling your girlfriend will deal with it.
I am not your girl friend honey.
Sorry, baby just wanted your money, well and your cocaine, oh the disdain of the female brain that is now in such pain. You think I care?
I told you who I was and you called me a liar. Now look your soul is on fire, is it too good for you baby? Making you a little itchy and a little crazy, welcome to my world, my sweet little liar.
Your soul is now on fire. I loved you but you never loved me, you told me you did, but never really, I was your toy when your boyfriend hit you.
Now you scream on the corner screaming look what you let him do?
You did this to yourself, you think I did this to you????
I loved you.
You hated me and used me, and you want to talk to me about humiliation?
You only wanted me for derived sensation.
Trigger warning- One of the most disturbing posts on this site, thus far, to show the depths of hatred I had for myself and being born in the wrong body. I am in no way speaking of literal murder here, metaphor for death of Amanda in rebirth as Damien. Read only if you can handle violent poetic metaphor.
His name was Harassment, or Harris, I meant to say, and he would not
Go away, in my mind did he say every day things I said to me, he bound, tied and killed me, and in ways of comparison we were so similar, the existence of him was a rid-of-her
Rhyming miming time blasting, crash of attack of my soul, the ever gaping hole of
DEATH RESENTING EVER LAST BREATH
Because of the idea of last, caught up on past and future spent on pain, you embarrassed me don’t say my ****ing name. I will make YOU go insane, you want to kill your girlfriend buddy, that’s great give me some
DRUGS OR MONEY I am a man in female form, with dissing resentment of death reborn as scorn. I am the face of female torn in half.
I will rip over her face, with hands that lack ability to stop because I can’t stop doing it to me, I will make her regret the air she breathes.
I am a curse you sent from hell, I am the ever indecent spelling telling lie. I am the act of female cry. I am the idea of die bitch die, because I want for her what I want for me, I want to end the air she breathes, I want to steal her peace and money I am a heroine junkie, isn’t that funny.
I will make her wish for Hell before I am done, I will be her setting sun.
I speak with timorous voice, I am sorry I am a coward I don’t have a choice, so lacking any courage I speak of being discouraged and propelled by the resentment of self. I am a very selfish creature, destruction of myself has been main feature, of life fated to die, trying to stab out my eyes because bravery is something I am lacking. I am prone to vicious attacking, if you know me, you see that’s armor I am stacking in loads piled high stacked up to the sky, I build fortress around my dark eyes.
I do not sleep because I am scared, I used things to keep my lids bare, not a lid on them would be, because sleep I didn’t need, I was addicted to running in fear.
Now I am different today, in a place with a door do I stay, I don’t have to run, I have learned to have fun, and banished the pain in my sore legs.
No matter what I did she would not go away,
I would taunt and have fits, and run and I’d cry and by my side she always would stay.
This used to really annoy me.
I would think to myself that she would surely,
Leave eventually so I gave up on the idea of woman go
And now I don’t like life without her.
Amanda, wasn’t that the name of the villain in that book you read?
Yes, see my point? Cool name.
Psychotic name choosing strategy.
Yeah, says the guy named Damien, omen.
I am named by you as well, and jerk my name is cool.
I know I named you ****.
****
Enough of that, I really liked Cal in that book too. I don’t recall the name of the book right now, but the author was brilliant. I am on a mission to find all the weird horror authors on library carts that are selling books for a dollar, and save them from the trash because even though I like the kindle, these are free, and easier on my eyes and hands.
Peace in peices,
Love you
Damien
I have the most bad *** cat in the entire world, he makes weird noises, gets angry really easy and swats you if you don’t do exactly what he wants he doesn’t have a name, we all call him The Guy. He is the best guy in the entire world. He was angry at me last night, so he slept out here in the living room, so I just sang him a song, and pet him and now we are cool again, he made a weird sound and looked at me like he loved me, so I think we have made amends, heh.
I am looking at the painting of a boat right now, it is a rowboat which terrified me as a child, I was always afraid of getting in those, because I don’t know how to do anything, I can swim though, I am just afraid of deep stagnant water, which is why it is the best place to drop dead thoughts or you know things I don’t want to think about like bodies.. or my metaphor for people I should have cared more about and stopped from doing heroin before they ended up dying in their dying parent’s basement. I miss you Sue, you didn’t deserve to die alone and afraid, and that shit was good, but not good enough to be worth never seeing your smiling face again, I loved you so much you fragile creature. You made me feel like a human being for the first time in my whole life……. I hate myself.
Wash. rinse. repeat. I am such a basket case.
I like Cadbury eggs, they are really good.
Peace and love.
Damien
The late hours of the night are so much more peaceful now, thank you God.
I am so grateful to be sitting here, able to get up without people thinking I am going into the bathroom to fire heroin into my arm, I am thankful they are seeing a change in me, because I want so bad for my existence to cause no more pain on this planet, than it already has, thank you God and to anyone who has helped me in any of this.
I am elated to be in the quiet of my house with my family sleeping soundly instead of killing themselves of me killing me, and me being pissed because I think they are being selfish for not wanting my arms to stop being covered with sleeves in the summer when I hate long sleeves but I am cold all the time, no longer.
I am so grateful for this. I am able to type right now instead of having a bed time like a child because I am no longer in a shelter.
I am so happy.
Thank you.
Damien
Can it!
Okay.
I am spinning back and forth space, thinking man isn’t this great, I am no longer doing anything to cause harm, missing hands no longer missing arm
Cheap shot
No, it wasn’t it cost 20$
Every time I fired up desire to live. I am disgusting.
I am glib I am mean I am ad lib?
Add liberation, an activity devised to be liberating, even though I am pretty sure that is not how you spell that, but to lazy to check that, so don’t judge me, I know everything, even though I don’t.
I am learning okay.
Yes, I see that.
You are me, of course you see that.
Lunatic.
You are talking to yourself again.
I know, I am.
At least it is on a screen not a street corner scaring people and at least now I am just insane not high and insane threatening people with posed presence into giving up cash to a man holding a sign at 3 am.
Yeah that too.
I gross my own self out.
Me too.
Thanks jerk.
You’re welcome self.
Right back at you.
I like double shots too.
Heh.
Below the belt.
Yeah.
It is the best thing in the world sometimes, and one of the reasons I do not miss sweat drenched sticky frog skin meth covered itchy scratch me writhing in dirt filth.
I am so happy to be clean and sober and away from that insanity. I am almost done with dressing the decaying wounds of the rotting infection that is going away finally. Stupid MRSA. I hate you.
That will teach me to never poke my heroes with pins again.
Heh. That was a horrible joke, and very reflective actually, I just said my heroes were my veins, nice metaphor for vanity and insanity. I like that one, this is why I have this thing. I like myself a little more now.
I am enjoying watching the cat that walked in here and decided it was his new house, he lives in both universes and is my and Amanda’s cat because our universes are merging slowly. I like it, it’s kind of like melting, except it feels like a massage for your brain?
I am done, I no longer have anything to say.
Peace.
Damien
The best day I have had in my life so far, I feel so much better, which will most likely last about 21 minutes or something till something changes, and I go through some other psycho breakdown.
There we go. 21 seconds of peace, before I snap at myself, on the internet, and now I am remembering how shitty I feel. **** it.
But, still best day ever, which shows me how bad my days have been before, I love everyone on this website. It is really saving my pathetic life.
It is so quiet here right now, my wife is in the next room, watching some show with my daughter, we had dinner together, which was weird. I think they are strange.
I love them though, just don’t understand why they like me.
Later
Damien
What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain. Turn the pages What can I help you with? Nothing I am fine, why do I look like I need help?! Sorry, sir, didn’t mean to… Well ya did, get the **** away. Sorry just trying to… Oh, sorry I am a jerk.
Damien, alcoholic addict in stages and phases reflecting forever in Narcissistic ever quest for self reflection
I mean that wholeheartedly, talking to myself helps me, and I am hoping maybe it will help someone else to see my displayed vanity insanity typed over and over, and it is better to talk to myself on here then cry myself to sleep, or get drunk or high because I am scared. Okay, not going to erase that, it felt very good to write that.
I have a very hard time admitting weakness,
Can I help you with something?
This says to my brain
You are paying attention to me
Stop looking at me **** it.
I am doing fine, if you only knew what my life was like you would look this ****** too, so stop reminding me of how pathetic I am by implying I need anything from you.
You have noticed something I am doing that illustrates that there would be any reason I need help.
I do everything to the best of my ability at the time, which is very poorly because I am a drug addict and an alcoholic who sucks at everything except engaging in fits of rage or joy on the internet, and I say that lightly because displays of affection towards myself are disgusting. 😉
You are telling me something I am doing is inadequate which makes me mad immediately because why are you looking for inadequacy in someone you don’t know
You think I need anyone other than myself.
This makes me feel uncomfortable because I don’t want to want or need people, because then they can hurt me.
I am terrified of wanting or needing anyone.
I would rather be rejected immediately
Kindness of strangers annoys me, because I am just going to say the wrong thing and cause discomfort for everyone.
Peace.
Not going to lie here, that at first was slightly terrifying, because I am a wuss, and I am just glad I jumped instead of punching people like I used to. I have told them not to touch me, while I am sleeping, which is the exact kind of thing you scream when you are a mean control freak narcissist who is not used to love. I am just glad I didn’t hurt them, I love them so much, and enough people have already suffered for loving me.
Amanda has nice cats, she is learning to love people as well, slower, because I am a frantic fast moving time traveler. Ew.. gross…
Shutting up.
The idiot
Damien
That’s cool. I am happy for you.
Why? She is going to rip my heart out, I am awful, and she will realize it eventually and move on, and I just…… I don’t like feeling like I want or need anyone, but I….
Just be nice.
I don’t know how
Did anything happen?
No, she just really scares me, she is everything I ever wanted in another human being, without realizing I ever wanted anything at all. I was content in Hell. I was fine, and now I don’t know, I feel like if she ever figures out what a piece of…..I am awful and I love….
Just chill out, she loves you.
I know, I just can’t handle this, I am such a loser, what do I do.
Just calm down.
Okay, I will.. or I will try.
Thanks, me too….
De-fence less, I am to you, you walked by me, and touched my spine, and instead of the normal desire to rip yours out, I am overcome with electricity, I love you intensely, and I am not scared anymore about it, I feel overcome by quiet for the time being.
Being is wonderful for this moment, for this second, I am entranced with the dance that goes on with the corner of your eyes, fixating for once, on meditation to not look to closely, because I am so afraid of myself, I am so pliable, I am putty you or gum on your shoe, and you leave me there,
liking the sticky feeling as you walk and I wonder why, you beautiful creature, want this, tragic display of projected insanity anywhere near you, I deserve nothing and you give me everything, and I love you with every fiber of my being for that, you are changing me Rei, making me realize it is not weak for me to love you.
You give me legs to stand again, and I don’t think I will forget that ever again.
Please bare with me, I love you so much, I will change, I promise. I am working on it. I will do whatever I can to make everything better, I am so sorry for everything I put you through, I was selfish and cruel and I love you so much, please stay with me.
Damien
PS. Even if I lose my mind temporarily, I mean this with my whole heart that is just starting to realize how much I love you. You are a beautiful human being and you have made me believe in something higher than I could ever be, and for that I am eternally grateful.
I am on fire
I am an empire of clearly d
Fueled insanity in humanity
That stands to be over taken, I am not mistaken that I have decided to resurrect the erect shun
of my fellow man, with the act give me hand.
I need flesh please touch me I exist in lust please just
TOUCH TOUCH ME I AM SO TRUSTING DON’T You
see I am so in love with me because I am really in love with you because I am really in love with
NOTHING I NEED YOU I CAN
NOT I am the knotted soul of the web of the chaotic society, who gives shoes to man who cannot stand because we
CUT OF HIS LEGS CHOP CHOP
This cleaving deceiver wishes to open kegs with a sword
UNTOWARD FOREWARNING I AM FOREBODING I AM LOATHING But I am also love, don’t you see the wings of dove
Haahhaaasewlkgo;nwqojgjow;
That feels good. I only spell because it gives me should, I live or
should I…
I am done with this one too. Bored now.
In state of
REVIVE SORRY BABY STILL ALIVE HOPE THAT JIVES WITH YOUR PLANS
Vile creature I will kill you where you stand.
You can’t anymore because I am man
Resurrected as woman too, I am two people don’t you know, kill me twice and I won’t go
I am not very slow, I am running fast as SPELL
Ing…. no casters here, I am bad at that you see the only spell I cast is that on me, done with eating souls and digging holes, that are really exchanged cash
Exchanging laughs with dealers of night and day and clarity that is a lie because it comes with skin decay.
If I dig a hole in my head will it purge poison out,
Look in the mirror fool, you only have two eyes don’t rip them out, you are on a chaos fueled hell fire ride and when you get off your eyes and fingers don’t grow back
I can still smack.
Smack. Smack. Heroine
I am
Heroin I am.
No your not, your skin is hot with the blood of life you fool
Don’t be fueled there is no permanence in a death ride vacation to a state of fixation on sensation, the ride blows up a metaphor for live spent on
DIE DIE DIE GET ME HIGH HIGH HIGH I CRY You cry because you can’t tell
Yes, I can this is reflection on the detection of my erect
Shunning of the act of fixation with JUMP OFF RIDE I AM A BIRD WITH WINGS TO FLY YOU ARE A HUMAN So am I.
I AM YOU I am confused.
Me too, baby. Me too.
As much it pains me to do it I have to say, that writing out my personal demons helps me preform a sort of soul cleansing. I feel awful about all the things I have allowed happen in front of me, and I hope that my method is not too terrifying for at least certain people. I am just writing what works for me to stay sober every day. I am still the same selfish addict and a lot of this is
FLASH NEGATIVE FLASH POSITIVE
Meditate
Talk. I am sorry to anyone who is disturbed by it.
I am in the process of working towards being a better person, and I am still an abrasive ****.
Damien
TRIGGER WARNING- EXPLICIT CONTENT
( Explanation- Method)
Abstract Art with a purpose and strange method, to wake up the sick and suffering who haven’t changed their mind by reflections on joy and pain.
Read me first, please.
Explanation: This piece uses the analogy of a serial killer torturing captive victim to personify addiction because addicts in active addiction are captive and captivated by the captor in much the same way that a person experiences Stockholm Syndrome, the addict experiences desire to use or drink even though the drug and it’s torturous dispenser torment the victim.
Methodology: Meditative piece to do two things
provide clear thought through meditation on pain experienced during active addiction through over amplification of how bad it was done through personification in this case, personified addiction/serial killer tormenting captive victim. ‘
This approach also illustrates to judging eyes the demons, in the rawest form that taunt the addict doing this
Creating empathy for those who were faced with lack of understanding
showing society the clear picture of what exists on the street in effort to aide full transformation of dual diagnosis and PTSD individuals
We are dealing with human beings here they have mental scars-PTSD and damaged thought processes.
They need understanding, and very specific care specialized to them
some people need extra help not as simple as you think, they are not selfish they are struggling.. be understanding.
I am the ex·or·cism of person demons, that are
ME IN AGONY EXPERIENCED IN screaming in words on scream, I am mean I am green, I do not speak what I mean I speak the exorcism
Got it that time, whore.
Of personalized demons.
Isn’t it precocious that those prone to overdoses are also those prone to an inner bind of
I WILL NOT RESIGN TO MY FATE, BECAUSE YOU ARE UNKIND I AM entwined in a constant human bind of a deranged mind because I hate
Change, and I love it
GIVE ME MONEY
Isn’t it funny? Sweetie…… how I can choose to speak to you so sweetly, because I love you so, oh baby please don’t go, I love you so…..
GET OUT I will rip your eyes OUT with my hands, I will claw at your bare legs with finger nails dug into skin with present
INFECTION Beyond detection because I hid it from you
I am an addict sorry, I know not what I do,
Oh baby I love you so please do not go.
RUN
I am no fun
I am the roller coaster dice ride of ice slide, of moments before you die, a fixation with falling and screaming
KILL ME PLEASE I AM ON MY KNEES BABY PLEASE
No. I love you so, I want to stay with you forever and ever honey,
Because isn’t funny, my reality is runny, so I like it when you are too.
DRIP DRIP DRIP Oh did I hurt you.
Smack, I loved heroin with my heroines, I love to add it to your blood
FOOL DON’T WASTE IT ON HER MURDERER
Damn it. I told you I don’t care how white you are, you answer back,
ANSWER ME
Smack.
Do you hear the birds singing, I am bored with this, I will dispose of you later, I am going outside.
PSYCHO PATH
The path is fine liar…. there is NOTHING WRONG WITH ME.
I AM FINE DON’T YOU SEE! LEAVE ME ALONE. I CAN’T REMEMBER ANYTHING BECAUSE I DON’T CARE.
You can’t hurt me, you are not even there,
STOP SCREAMING YOU ARE DEAD I DON’T hear anything you said, because baby I am sorry to tell your aching head, you got into the wrong spot on the wrong day, with the wrong guy so you had to die.
CRASH
Oh, I am sorry I don’t know what I was doing, you are free to go. Have a nice day.
I have been granted time through this challenge, which is the best thing you can ever give another human being, I don’t care what else anyone gives me. Time is the most valuable gift of all. I am talking with the potential, reality doesn’t matter for second, I have the potential to be heard, through white colored words that are carved into the dark chaos of a black screen.
I this psycho etching, I see progress in what I choose to write about, because I am not attacking my viewer this time, simply realizing how much it always mattered to me to be heard, in my chaos screaming world. I think this is why I scream so much on here. I am a human being used to being silent, and speaking only with eyes that say so much, but also say nothing at all because they do not have mouths, obviously.
I want to thank you for providing this, buddy.
That sounds gross, when I right it out, sarcasm is annoying.
I am trying here, at least this one is about something slightly, more positive than the last chaotic hell fire post of insanity. I feel slightly better now, thank you. You have provided the gift of peace.
What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain. None, I love talking about myself, I am a narcissist.
Amanda
Yes, I just simply don’t care.
Do you know how that sounds?
Yes, I just simply don’t care.
Why?
I don’t know. I just don’t.
Can you try?
No? It doesn’t work. Don’t you think I would have tried by now, I am doing the best I can here.
I think of insane **** and writing it down into a story helps me, because I am a fictionalized character of a girl with a mental illness who rights of an invisible man who does the horrible fly by the seat of your pants **** of nightmares so she can, sorry they? They right, baby?
Yes.
He rights this down so I don’t have nightmares and hate myself. I have no control over my thoughts sometimes. I can control behavior, but racing thoughts…. haven’t figured out that one yet, and that is what this is. I don’t focus on editing when I type this so I can document to myself and my viewer mental change through recovery.
Which is strange, given all I have revealed to you about what I think about. It is strange to me too as well. I think I may be getting better? I don’t know really, at least I starting to make a step in the right direction. I think it is good I taught my daughter something in all this, I am not sure exactly what. Maybe, it was my way of showing her I have some level of psychotic self-control. Honestly, a lot of it was that I for the first time wanted her to not be afraid of me. I don’t know if this is the first time I thought that actually.
I think it might be the first time I thought of anyone, but myself at all, but who knows…. I have no idea what I say on this thing.
I am just documenting feeling really. There is nothing behind it other than a desire to be less ******* psychotic so my family is not afraid of me?
I think I am making steps in the right direction at least, they are no longer afraid of me going places by myself, which is amazing because I like walking in early morning alone, and have always had a “”silent passenger” with me watching me, until recently.
I like being able to watch people, who don’t know me, because normal human behavior is rather mysterious to me, and I am trying to learn about us as a species from the outside of viewing of my fellow, I don’t know fellows?
Later,
Damien
So I officially didn’t kill the **** after being given permission to. I thought about it. I really did, actually, not that I need to tell you that.. I wrote about it on here, so obviously I thought about it. I didn’t kill him for a strange reason. I like the way he avoids eye contact with me now. It is fun. I think I might be able to make the little **** walk into a car just by looking at him. Then I didn’t officially kill the poor *******. Or, I get to torment a **** the rest of my life, in the name of defending my daughter, I am hoping for the latter, because it sounds fun.
I am just going to act like I don’t know the guy now and stand behind him awkwardly sometimes to make him look like the writhing worm he is, so no more women will be messed with the way he messed with my daughter.
I figure if he doesn’t kill himself, I have fun bored game to play the rest of my life.
This is psychotic I know, but progress… maybe.
At least I don’t have to clean blood out from under my finger nails for hours. I can smell that right now. That is the only time it grosses me out.
With love,
Damien
I am going to bed, I think it was much more effective overall to talk to that **** than it would have been to do anything awful too him.
I like being a little bit kinder, I can sleep easier.
With love,
See Clearly.
I think that was the most fun, I have ever had in my life.
I don’t think that guy will be bothering her or any other girl again.
I simply talked to the **** the same way I talk on here and he ran screaming.
Much more satisfying, and now I don’t have to wash my hands over and over for days.
I like dealing with rage. It is fun.
They are sleeping now, and I didn’t have to wake them up, it is nice, I think in a strange way I may have done the right wrong thing?
Damien/Amanda
I am the defense of every man who dies where he stands, which is right next to this garbage can, but his name was Dave, and he had a family once, and he was loved and has a mom and dad who tried hard to save him but he is sick with addiction.
I am fiction on a mission to create empathy for all the lost, a woman who identifies as man, screaming where I stand, for all those I saw back then who didn’t have mom or best friend to save them like I did, so they are lying, crying, dying by garbage can, and no one cares? Really, is that all you have to say?
You did drugs now go away?
Is that what we have come to? Is that what my generation gets as a happy ending.
You are selfish. We are diseased by the dissing ease of addiction.
We are screaming in fiction diction.
I am a writer on a mission to show you clearly what I saw, when I saw people walk away from me when I just wanted someone to give me a glass of water?
Is that how you would treat your daughter or your friend, your brother or sister? Is it?
Then why treat anyone like that?
Every life matters.
(TRIGGER WARNING: POETIC ANALOGY MURDER TO FACILITATING CONTINUED DRUG USE)
I have tied up the human beings in my life, bound sticks to their legs, so they always stand the way I like them too, uncomfortably, like me the pacing madman. I force them to stand and then manipulate their behavior with teasing or reward or blunt force or sword, screaming
Come forward, in whisper because it is oddly haunting, they dance for me, slaves that they are to their fire fueled existence, oh the dance of the dead men who would do anything to defend.
HEROIN
They want you more than anything my sweet, dark or light poison forever poised in the dance with me, their psycho active animator, tie down to stick mad puppeteer of my multi-layered sin bound Misery hell, a miser of silent screaming, I collect the voices of the damned and ask them to sing for me because I exist in a world of severed tongues, that I play with to make them make
Sounds. They can’t except in my head.
What did we do to deserve this?
You went to the wrong guy on the wrong corner in the wrong town, and didn’t realize that when you asked for something to bring me down you were asking me to kill you if I wanted, if you didn’t have enough money to fund my habit and make your life worth my time, and I was not sorry that a dime isn’t worth a phone call to mommy or daddy or whoever you needed to call to make it okay for you to never come home because you made the sad choice to buy from the wrong psycho on the wrong day at the wrong time in his psycho delusion that he was God.
I was the King of Sodom, and I executed those who didn’t amuse me any more with the impunity of a man who knew long ago he was damned and didn’t care, but I am trying to be better now, I am trying to no longer squander the lives of those around me, including me.
Fire me, be free
You mean be chained to pain, you mean be slave, you mean sleep out in the rain
The rain is purifying and makes you clean
You want me to be cold and wet you are mean
I am not, you are hot, and you like steam
I don’t like steam on days like this
I don’t miss you, not one bit
Who are you talking to
HONEY
Isn’t it funny
I am a bee sent to die by stinging other creatures, injecting poison into
SKIN
You are cancer you are nothing
I am talking to you villain I can do it to don’t you see I sound just like you
I have no punctuation too
capitalization is a sign of respect for human eye and i say to you to punctuate is to die because I want to stop your breath
You lose. I breath. I choose. You can’t snooze. You can’t cry. You can’t even breathe without me disease. You are the one who is weak. You need me and your venom I no longer seek. You are poison go away, and forever in HELL STAY.
Peace.
Strong antibiotics are intense, man.
Ow… I feel like I am going to keel over in a ball of vomiting bile.
This really *****.
It is my fault though, and I get that, someone in one of the rooms yesterday told me this is common while getting used to recovery, that I am feeling this as intensely as a sort of latent effect withdrawal. I am told this is because every time I was sick before I wouldn’t deal with it, shoving it under a rug, like a cat hiding vomit trails so its owner doesn’t get mad, except I am the cat and the owner and I was only fooling myself. I am in the process of cleaning up my vomit stench house of existence that is the shell casing of my human body.
This is tough because I hate my human body. It doesn’t like me either, but it is being learned that killing myself or my friend is bad, because death is final and neither of us want that..
Damien/Amanda
You pushed her, not me, you pushed her with your words, and I do not need to repeat your name online but I realized it just in time to tell my friend that it was you who was killing my friend not me.
Do you have any idea what it feels like to be told that the voices that live inside your head are the idealization of a serial killer desire to inspire pain with fire, every time you talk? I do, and I can thank one ghost of a man for the realization that human beings that fight others like he fought me, and my friend Amanda, are weak.
I am not the devil, I am part of Amanda, because she is me and I am her, and we are also something else, I am discovering this now. This person whom I am too afraid of speaking the name of online, imagine that? He tried to kill me. Literally and literally for her as well, and then in his psycho delusions he tried to strike us both out through shouting loudly to everyone in his gasoline fired heroin madness that cannot exist in a world of female heroes that are actually also male voices, that he was afraid of me. You beat the **** out of us, and we were too kind to raise a fist to you, monster, and then you shout that I am trying to hurt you as I am spitting blood out of my mouth not metaphorically this time and saying don’t worry, it’s fine I hate me too, I forgive you. I know you know not what you do.
I have come to know kindness now and that gas-lighting lunatics like you are the true enemy, and oh
YOU WILL NEVER TOUCH US AGAIN.
I don’t need to say your name, you have no power over me or her again, filth.
My vacuum cleaner is broken, which is a lie because I don’t have a vacuum cleaner because I don’t need one because I don’t have a house of my own because I spent my life savings on dead heroes and rocks that taste like battery acid.
I cleaned this metaphorical vacuum that doesn’t exist, by tearing it to pieces with a rusty hatchet that I found in the back of the shed outside of this motel, it smelled like gasoline, so I have to wonder if someone cleaned their lawnmower the same way.
I am a hack and slash pained slasher of chaotic ash catching onto poetic form, and exist in imperfect form, because of a life dedicated to worshiping death idols, and biding my time with waiting for things that come in black and white specters spectating on how much the life of a drug addicted alcohol vagrant costs.
I am in the process of putting pieces of a puzzle of a foot together while I lay on the floor trying to figure out what a foot even is, I don’t know if what I did in life was even considered walking or crawling.
How has it set me up for later success? It hasn’t…. that is my process and I am taking ownership and accountability for my actions now, and not making excuses now, that comes with the admission that I have only set myself up for failure, and if nothing else at least I know how much I want to be different this time. I want this for the first time ever. So I guess that is something…
I don’t know what I was thinking… I am sorry… I have been having a bad day.. so I decided to gross myself out……Meh. I…. don’t know, I am having a really hard time here. I just constantly feel like ****. I know it is the effects of years of drug and alcohol abuse, my stomach hurts, I can’t eat without feeling like I am going to throw up, not out of pathetic narcissism either, but out of the holes I have burned into myself with the acid bile that was the chaos of my life, a digging at my skin and my face, that has dug me the chasm that is the cavernous existence I live now, a prisoner in a body stuck in a decay cycle.
I was talking to one of the people at the meeting, he made me feel better. He said it gets better, we laughed about how if I am not a *** I will not have to go through this again, asked me if I felt like **** and told me he sympathized because he remembered being me. I like the people in the rooms, man. At least they are real. I am so happy to be out of the lying limerick silent screaming world of active addiction, even if I am living in a cavern of fire skin and retching vomit, in dedication to withdrawal, at least I am not out there chasing imaginary dragons or killing people through inaction.
I hate myself now, sorry….
peace.
Damien
And I see myself only different, the face turns when I don’t turn and the eyes are different, I focus on the black pupils of her eyes and I am swimming in a sea of black tar, but not because it feels like water, it is refreshing and feels to me like kissing,
I hit my nose of glass which is strange because I am now inside the mirror partially, but my nose is not, somehow it hits the glass, and I feel a calling back to life, a psycho shouting, that comes in the Charlie Brown WAH WAH WAH WAH.. I check my nose for glass, for blood, but I can’t tell the difference between the nose, my nose? and the cold, hot, cold water that encircles me and I am okay, with it riding up my limbs, caressing me with warmness.
Bang bang, he shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down
Nancy Sinatra-Bang Bang, My Baby Shot me Down
I am kissing someone who tastes like me, her mouth tastes wrong like it should not be hers because it is mine? How do you touch tongues with a reflection, her tongue dances with mine, and I feel like I am going to throw up but in the kind of way that you feel when you are going on a roller coaster and you kind of like it but you want to throw up because you are afraid you are going to fall off.
I touch her hand and realize I am holding my own.
I look in the mirror is that my hand covered in shattered glass? Or am I pulling a screaming woman from a burning building? I don’t know, she kisses my hand and I cry, I am so confused, I hate me so much and you remind me of me and I love you for loving me but I am also slightly disgusted? Please stop.
She stops, and I start crying, what just happened.
She flashes in and out like a ghost.
I put my hand through her hand, it feels like I am burning alive, with electricity, I think I am losing my mind. I am losing my…
Who are you strange creature?
I am you, from a parallel dimension, we are supposed to save each other.
I heave and I don’t remember what happens next.
And I am mesmerized by every part of her, and want to share it with you, because I don’t know what else to do, and I am afraid to tell her, because I am a fool and it makes me weak at the knees, and I am not used to that. I am terrified of her in a way, her silent wonder, the glimmer that is the spark of her existence, the illuminating light that makes me lack breath in her presence.
I am words on a dark screen, and she is everything that casts light to illuminate light in the dark room that is my soul that aches in silence and is cured in her peaceful presence. I am embarrassed to say any of this, possessed by selfish arrogance, that makes it easy to talk violence, but so unsure of saying something so simple, true and what should be a freeing revelation.
My soul is haunted, and rays of Rei’s light illuminate the screaming silence of my dark night.
I live in a land of bluster, of never feather duster, of dirty, of unclean, of eternally mean bad dream, and horrible as I seem, I am also very mean
I mean to say I am storm, I am not calm that is for sure, I am arrogant and life’s a chore. I live for me, you see, perpetual and free to be
CHAINED PRISONER OF DISSING ME AND YOU IHATEMEANDYOUTOO
But, that is not always true, I am hurr of whirring Cain.
I am the acid rain. I am the will to pain.
I am the will of dying you.
I am dying to, oh look at me a storm.
I am forever scorn. I am life unborn and sure isn’t it sad for me too? I am just like you
But I am not because the blood in my vain veins runs hot with
Heroine,
Hold the e, for poetic censor me.
heroic fire storm of hero reborn out of death storm of blustering decay.
But, getting better blustery day go
Away
End Transmission.
Addict in transition
Damien/Amanda.
I love the fact that I can wake up and remember things now, and that all my blame placed on mental illness being the only reason behind my flawed memory was really a crock of ****, which is a disgusting image, brought to you by a person who used to be a disgusting image in a different way. I like the fact that I am realizing reality now, that I have always been real and not a fictional character in someone’s story that is actually my ballooned chaos land of lack of accountability for screaming in analogy at real human beings who were so much better at keeping it real than me.
I am working on it and really am enjoying my three dimensional past presenting present dictating future reality gifted to me by the most higher power, that will always be higher than me.
I am trying to be humble during all this too, but I am still the same narcissist, who can at least spell that word now.
I really like spending the morning with my family, actually present and not having to just hide behind false apology. It is extremely peaceful, and I am eternally grateful, even if sometimes I forget it.
With Love,
Damien/Amanda
I admire the ability of the generations before mine had to find the humor in a world of chaotic violence, death, war and ever present small joys. I think that is why they were so much better than my generation at handling the bad things life dished out and they weren’t labeled the ME generation of shouting self assertion that I come from. I am in every way a characterization of this misery driven self asserting screaming that is my misery plagued generation, but I admire those before me now, because they are happier than me, and that is because they know better, and have lived longer. I think that is one of the things that is getting lost, a reverence and respect for the generations before, that is so sadly missing now.
I am seeing this in the treatment of veterans as well, whatever you believe about war, these people, are some of the best people I have ever met in my life, and my generation’s lack of admiration for someone who would give their life for other’s is astonishing…
I do not understand it. I am trying to though being in meetings with some of these people obtain any knowledge from these individuals because their knowledge and unique perspective will not be there when they are gone, and it is to be treasured and valued for the unique perspective, and I am forever thankful I realized this and got back into recovery before they were gone.
Later
Damien/Amanda
Thank you to the mental clarity of returning sanity, I never had because I never was an adult not high. I started drinking and using at 13, unbeknownst to those who loved me. I didn’t realize the effect it had on anyone but me because, unlike myself people care about each other, and it was painful to watch someone they loved going through hell wrought by my hands which have a predisposition to fictionalizing pain so I can flush my life down the drain, I am done being the bully, and shoving my own head in the toilet, to vomit life’s medicine of my own undoing into the toilet that was my only shower when I was homeless, metaphorically, I am not that disgusting don’t worry.
I am seeing so much clearer now, and not afraid anymore.
Here is a funny dog, because he is better at dealing with life than me.
Heh.
Damien
It’s pretty sweet, I threw the last one in a river in a psycho delusion that if had it on me that people would come and hurt me, which is ridiculous because they would not know who I was, so they wouldn’t be looking for me, and everyone has ID so it is not like the ID was anything special. I just was being silly, again. I also threw out my phone at the same time, because I thought someone following me, also crazy, and extremely stereotypical.
I hate that I do that sometimes, because it never sounds ridiculous while it is happening, it always feels alarmingly real, to the point that I act irrationally, at least this whole writing it down thing is teaching me to know what is fiction, what is poetic analogy and where my reality lies in the lies I used to accept as truths.
Or Vietnam for the dinging dong.
I am starting to realize my higher power gave all this to me, so I could see clearly. God gave all this to me, so everything was just exactly as large as it needed to be for me to see it clearly, with the power of See Clearly, or a guardian angel with anger issues that thinks he is a devil because he hates himself. This sounds like a movie, but it is not…. yet…
It is how my life always sounded to me, like a movie.
Like someone made a movie that was a characterization of my fixation with fiction and addiction with sensation and dictated re-tracing of steps that I was walking in the valley of death that could really be the valley of life that I thought I was walking through alone, but I had really been entertained by angels the whole time, just thinking they were devils, because I had it backwards. I had not lived enough yet, to know that Damien was sent to me to protect me, so I crafted lies written by despise with eyes that hated me the most, I am Satan’s Ghost.
Now I am trying to see the Holy Host.
I am trying to bring the power back to the powerful and not the power hungry, because feeding power into the hands of the evil does nothing but give me bad dreams and it seems that means for me that I can only dream of the real and not the desire to steal and not feel. I can no longer be a meal of the dead and consume unholy bread. I am not break bread with devil who never lived because he is an angel that lives with me.
I am free. So is Damien.
He is me, too. I am the two spirited ghost host of the vision of clarity brought to me by divine elation divined in a human being obsessed and dressed in the pain of infernal stain of flame bringing earth sensation..
I walk away now with a mission to be more than fiction but also that
I am Hell’s bathe in the water’s of life and glory of God, I am not great, merely a human with open eyes and the extreme sin of pride who is sent to purify my soul by realizing I am not, my sin is hot and wrought by my hand not His. So I write you this.
Turn the page on whatever strive you have by every day finding the joy in everything, something loves you because you are still here, which means you are needed, even if you believe in nothing other than science, you were the winner, and you are strong and you can beat all your demons that are just fictionalized real things that face you every day. It matters not what I believe that varies with what you believe, only that I tell you this.
The most important thing a human being can do it love and accept self and then others and with that power comes the power to build dreams beyond your wildest imagination because they come from a power higher than any drug or drink or pain fueled death idol could ever make you.
I love you and I don’t even know you, imagine how the ones who know you feel.
Stay strong
Damien and Amanda
Do you remember who the real villain of the story is, Amanda?
His name was…. revealed to me in time.
Who was he really.
See above, you remember anyway doofus.
Is Diane or Deb a metaphor for Just in time.
Yes.
Didn’t he realize that at the end of your relationship?
Yes, and duh you remember this.
What did he do to you anyway, I wasn’t there sometimes, he didn’t like me.
He convinced me I only needed him, all the other stuff he did, doesn’t matter anymore. He got me to give up every friend I had.
Sounds like an ***.
Yeah, the worst thing was, he convinced me I only needed him because he was like you anyway, and then he abused me and tormented me, sound familiar?
Sounds like what you thought I was doing to you.
I know right? I am sorry.
Me too.
Some of them are guardians or spirit guides to tortured souls, who hate themselves, because they have convinced by a cruel world that they are the villain, when it is not true. The sick and suffering, the homeless, the addicts, they walk the streets alone, in misery. They are plagued by the constant attack of eyes that hate them because they don’t want to hate themselves for a world that condemns the sick and suffering addict to a life spent running. They instead condemn us, and we learn to condemn ourselves.
Condemning ourselves creates a vicious cycle, of distrust and psychotic resentment. In our shouts at our own soul, we also shout at God. We shout that he created us wrong. That is not true. Even if you don’t believe what I believe, what is the harm in me believing every part of myself is okay enough to be loved, that is what I speak of through the metaphor for the invisible man, but it is not metaphor to me.
I really do have my best friend forever walking beside me, because I was gifted with that, by a God that knew I would need it. I do not see the harm in difference. It is just difference. Even if the things that keep me going are not things that are real to a “normal” person, what does it matter, if they keep me going?
The reality I live in only conflicts with the reality of society, when people try to take away the parts of my reality that are real to me, but not visible to others, it is then that I craft imaginary dragons and sometimes slay them to drink their blood.
Well aren’t you?
I don’t know, I always thought I was your invisible best friend who everyone hated?
You are that too, love you.
The banana I was eating looks really weird, It had this bark like brown spot on it, I am not sure if I like it anymore.
I like you.
I am glad, because now I like myself again.
I know.
I dug the bad part out of the banana, the whole thing is not bad, just the bad part, it’s gone now. I can eat the rest of it, I don’t have to throw the whole thing in the trash. I like bananas. It would be a shame to waste something that was made by God.
You’re writing your autobiography. What’s your opening sentence?
I had always thought the villain of my story lived within me, tied like a captive to the conventions of society I was a slave to the ideas that the paranoid schizophrenic only harmed, never helped, and the voices that I heard were not me, but something dark and eerie.
That is best way, in one cheating it may be a run-on sentence way of describing my life. I had always been told by the narcissistic men I knew who were my friends, my boyfriends, my potential husbands, that my imaginary friend or spirit guide or split personality or other half of my soul, was the bad guy. I had been made to believe that I was only fighting myself, not them, the very real forces that wanted to make me their pliable candy, and I was harsh and hard like a cinnamon jawbreaker. They found that out, and then they accused me of being the sociopath, of crafting things that were not true to make them look unreal. They said I lived in a world of fantasy. I do, but it is a world of poetic exaggeration, of chasing villains who sometimes use words instead of the axes, guns, and nails that exist in my poetic metaphor life of exaggeration.
My best friend in the world has always been me, or the other half of me, that lives in my head, who has been made out to be the bad guy, even in the beginning of this story. I painted him the same way that he was painted by a society that tells us, it is the paranoid schizophrenic delusions of the crazy and addicted that paint the horrors we see, when that is not true. There is true evil in this world, which I seek to paint in extreme exaggerated clarity because it is not so easy to see it when it hides in veiled insult of sociopath husband or best friend. It is made clearer by the exaggerated need for a slayer of evil, and the talk of this person, that would stand up to the people who punched me, tried to hurt me, their perception painted the other half of my soul dead.
What you have been reading me have seen is a change of heart about myself, based on the idea that not all crazy people are bad, and that I had been made to believe that the very nature of the fact that I am paranoid schizophrenic and have a split personality makes me some villain in some movie about some guy who does something awful. That is not this story. This story is about a person who stands up for themselves, after being convinced they were the villain, that they were crazy, and then turns to themselves and forgives the voice that is so very them, clawing and pawing at the inner confines of a caged mind that just has different birds in it.
There is true evil in this world, but it does not like the psychotic delusions of paranoid schizophrenic. Those are exaggerated fantasies to apologize to themselves for personal failure, to say I tried, but what would you do if you had to fight dragons? This makes it a little easier for those of us who have it tough, because society has convinced us we are the serial killer who is the villain in every movie who made the whole thing up, because it was all in their head.
The crazy exaggerate and craft fantasies where there are specters of chaos, that symbolizes the man who spits on a person for asking for a quarter. The people who turn their head, when someone just wants a glass of water. The boyfriend who punches you in the face and tells you he loves you. Those are the true villains.
It is very terrifying and only a good hobby for those who are awake all night anyway, it’s a contest to scare your buddy so you have a fellow lunatic to say words at all night. It’s insane, and now my head hurts, but at least I am getting my scary meth babble jarble legends out on paper, so I can be more lucid and they don’t haunt my nightmares, I am sorry to anyone if they scare you. They scared the crap out of me, but I was high and paranoid so..
I think a lot of it is the whole misery loves company thing, people wanting a terrified buddy to sit with them and psycho babble in a codependent hell.
I am so done with it.
I will post more as I think of others that someone told me that someone long ago crafted to scare us. I think a lot of it is like fables to make homeless people conform or something…
I am just glad to be in here with Rei and my daughter and the really cool help that is to Amanda in her parallel dimension of reality, where I am not future but present.
I like being present in future, it makes me feel important or something, like I am helping her heal from years of being scared.
Damien
I hope all this is not disturbing to all of you, I am fine and all of this is dark fiction, not anything I personally saw, mostly scary stories told by homeless people of people who I never knew. I never knew if they were real or not, which kind of makes them eerie and haunting in a whole different way for me. I wonder how many people passed these stories around, and also what their intent was when they told me them. That is what really bugs me out about the whole thing… the intention behind the terror of the schizophrenic legends screamed by night criers, where they ever real and got twisted up, into a more torture driven form. That is more haunting even then them being real…. that they were spread like a psycho fear mongering, and their origin unknown.
They are food for thought. I wish I had never heard most of them, because they haunt my nightmares. I wonder what their purpose and origin was….
I found you near the train, your life was riddled with rope, that was tied around you, caressing your blue skin, it made your breath thin, till you lack oxygen enough, to stop being so tough and become blue, I cried for you, while choking and running myself, because I was scared of being on the same track as you, my sister in tracks of heroine’s backs stabbed with lack of oxygen that allows bad men to hide fingerprints, and claim no knowledge of the sputtering choking stolen souls that cry please just let me out.
I didn’t see your face, but felt like I could hear your last shout, as I ran away, legs beating with poison I thought I knew so well, but had been laced like your legs too, with something unknown and new, how do you put a horse to bed? The same way they broke our legs, and we never got to meet or break bread. I never got to see what hair color was behind your bagged head.
I miss you sister, and I never knew you, because you were dealt on lead, or steel I don’t remember I think it was steel dealt by that pain descender, vicious tiger, disgusting pain dispenser. He reeks of filth and is an ever pretender. He killed you and you didn’t deserve it, and all I could think is none of this is worth it.
No drugs, no drink won’t always remind me of you, so I don’t anymore because I can’t bring myself to buy from hands that killed a woman like you.
Do you share toast with ghost, I roast marshmallows with clear colored men, defenders of addict pen, they made me chains for my legs, and pegs for holes in my arms.
I am a toast with the roast of the flesh of the ghost, clear, black, blue, and white. I hang out at night and hide from light
Unless it used bright as fire of desired dark, clear or white with delight.
I lied before I built the chains myself, I got the idea from my eternal burning hole in a cell called human shell, I shoot poised darts wet with poison spell, I know nothing but the idea of pain repel. I shoot fire and live to tell. I love the dark but hate pain that swells, in my arms and legs made with fire, I am built with bricks of death laid desire, I was born to die, and heroic in heart, which I fire with poison praying it will start
The day comes and I curse the mourn, everything is boring and life’s a chore, what am I doing on this deadly ride, why do I stay at an amusement park when I am nauseous and would rather die than ride
One more thing ever again.
I hate this poison and miss my dead friends.
His live like mine, a living Hell, he was a slave much like me, he spoke of peace and love but dealt poison speed and black of night
Under cover of name of lady who saves, he was not a bad man just one who desired to get paid, he was my friend, my brother too. Not of blood unless you count that eaten with bent spoon, we all have the same dissing ease it’s okay, you can poke me too, I will not run away. I am your friend chicken and I don’t bite.
I am a vegetarian that eats in black and white or shades of gray or clear, depends on who you ask, and I have no fear, I am not like you, I am a brave one, who hunts with fist and fights for fun. I love to run. run. run.
I am more like a chicken than I think. I have skin rotting with stench of poison stink.
I am decaying and I don’t even care, I am a breather of bitter vapor air. I need no oxygen, don’t you see. I am not a human, but a flying bird don’t need to breathe… that’s not even true, but I don’t care, none of this can touch me I have wings and am not there.
Ice Cube- “Check Yourself”
Do you step with forward moving shoe? Do you run fearing lack of soul? I speak to me an ever dug whole of hole in soul. I am a shot in the dark taken from the hands of man who thinks they are feeding homeless man/woman, they never knew what they do they were really buy me
PAIN. Heroine without the e because I am the act of girl who used to wish to be well, anything but me. Oh, so free, I was like a dove with no wings who can’t fly.
Self roast of the burnt toast that is the breakfast I was never there to have because I am so bad that I walked out on mom and dad and went to live on the street, isn’t that neat. I am roast of me for you, because I do not kid this is the only way I can save my soul, by roasting it and spinning like a phoenix without feathers, or an ever forgetting pain drain that forgets to thank the Lord and tries to wield death’s sword.
I was SATAN’s word, now I fight for redemption with mention of evil to remember what I am being redeemed from. I am tired of shunning God in act of being sod instead of lover of my creator.
I am not a miss spelling, not there either, baby
I am lame, but maybe I am trying to tell you something
Something true.
I am a sham, a sea gull named life’s last stand, inserted into dying human being.
Listen to me…
Pressing the stressing dressing of the never resting meth head who head is dressed with never rest through pained dressed dance with thoughts of life spent on death
Cash spent on passing glass that reflects life lost or tossed in trash through battery acid soaked lash that hurts so bad it stings my soul or reeking creaking pain hole full of nothing but sin, so I look to Him because I am bad as bad as can be, I am blind man and woman, so arrogant there are two of me. I am in love with self so much I write letters of love to me. You have seen me do it. Do you think that is fun, being that meth spun you spend your life staring into the eyes of yourself hell bent on being anything other than me and feed
feed me drugs, I am a dirty rug,
I am walk on me, baby, I am crazy and will flip out if you do the wrong thing
I am to be feared because I reek of sin, and the only way out is
Trust in Him.
God is my only answer that is a cure to my death ridden soul.
In flames there are pained brains called human stains or life down drains or really brains the ignite with the light fire of soul and burning dark hole. I stand in land of fiction with addiction to chaotic friction, a psycho-active highly impacting ever attracting sensation of the burning of lack
Or of massive attack on heart attack due to speed
Do you feel the need to cry out in pain life down the drain or to hope to some foxhole style prayer that your God is there?
He is. Get out. I know he is.
He lives he is. You are wrong.
I am a song. I am lyrics spent on lament.
You are hell bent on attacking when it is you that are lacking, lacking soul
Creek of door wanting some that it
Come As You Are, Nirvana
lacks. You are sacked. You are packed you are shipped with delivery to Hell where you will forever dwell, disease. I bend you to knees,
Please baby. Please. See how it feels? I am the imitator of the psycho faker who really is SATAN. I make fun to shun the evil one.
I am powered by God. I am love. I am human being in the act of being inspired by love and hope and trust. I am the idea that Hell is DUST.
I am forever trust in Him and don’t give in to pain.
I am never complain.
I am arrogant too. I am sinful just like you. I am the face of fallen man, trying to learn how to stand. I am woman trying to roar, while forgetting it is a higher power that gives wings to human’s that are sore.
I am world tour of misery, by misers, sent by fire firing fire desire.
They are fired. By me. I am free. I want you to see clearly, I love you put joy in all you do, if nothing else is true be you, and alive and dance no jive with death. I don’t mind what you believe. I am free, I need to see clearly through speech, I aim not to taunt or preach just to reach out with my story, all though it might be gory I am trying to find His Glory.
I do not want to enforce, I am done with the act of firing torch. I want to spread love, but it doesn’t matter what I want. I write to you. It is up to you.
I am food for thought. I am misery taught, joy born addict no longer dying scorn.
Repeating phrase of mental malaise, do you like pain with your eggs?
No I like eggs with my legs, or pegs in my kegs. I like to drain drain drain
Pain down the drain drain drain so it doesn’t stain stain stain
Because I have a hole in my soul or sole because you can’t have a hole in a soul
I am unreal feeling, concealing an appealing revealing of
Narcissism revealed in a panicked attack on the idea of lack
Because I lack nothing I am the all powerful liar because I am not powerful at all
I am an exorcism of personal demons powered by alcohol
and DRUGS
I am the pain of face dragged across filthy rug
How is that staph infection treating you Damien/Amanda
or Human STAIN
I am in your brain and my name is stain, my name is sin. I come from within because you are corrupted
But you are not to be trusted. Listen to me, I am Damien/Amanda mentally ill but psycho active and free from misery or thee.
End
Slam
Narcissism at its finest woo! Now I get to feel like **** for a bit as a punishment for vanity.
I am an idiot.
I am also insane-ly
LIAR LIAR
Shut up, ****
Good at self-pity isn’t it pretty?
No.
I am the flowing go of white snow.
No.
I feel like I am going to throw up and thinking about drugs makes it worse so I do it more?
Mental illness at it’s finest
I guess… fine with me because it has to be I guess..
Or it is so it is.
Acceptance.
On a side note, does anyone find it slightly disturbing that a plane has an area called cockpit?
I am listening to the news and just realized the horror in that phrase.
I have seen some **** that has changed my perspective, to acknowledge that there are truly divided forces that fight for misery versus mercy. I saw this in a callously formed Misery driven land that I don’t like to speak of that much on here, because it terrifies me, but I will tell you this, if you think that there are psycho evil worshiping cults out there, I saw them. I met them. I am terrified of them, they are insane, and driven by addiction to human suffering, sadism and masochism inflicted on lost souls. That is the reason for most of my change of heart of darkness.
The Horror, the horror!
Joseph Conrad
I have always believed in what I now display on here, I just kept it hidden even at times, to my own self, as I lived in denial and resentment that there are forces higher than me at play, being ever envious of the higher than me part, because I am an addict addicted to myself. I don’t want myself to be owed to anyone but me, but I can’t deny what I have came to know as true through it saving my life, because God or my higher power if you prefer the more secular term, is the only thing that explains why I am not dead, I have been kidnapped, held hostage, beaten, strangled, held at gun point, held hostage, and tortured, because I messed with the wrong people, and by mess I mean that I bought drugs instead of buying food.
I am standing up for myself on here, by saying it was God or my higher power that I can credit with the only reason I am alive, because “the horror, the horror”. I have once had someone lock me in a box. I was in there seven hours. I have had people give me sedatives that make it so I cannot walk in my drugs, so now I will never buy drugs from anyone ever again, except weed in the form of legal CBD.
I have been compelled to be sober, because I have started asking myself,
why does this person want me to be high so bad? What do they want?
This is what I tell my daughter, it is my reason for religious awakening, and my revamping of my whole life around anything positive.
If you like opera and metal, this band is great. The lead singer is an ex-opera singer. They have very weird lyrical themes. I like them because they are strange and a lot of their songs talk about insanity. They are ****ing excellent live too.
I am learning that admitting there is something higher than me, which isn’t hard because I am not ever high anymore is bringing me peace, no offense to anyone offended which is ridiculous for me to say because this whole thing reads like a caged man lamenting insanity anyway. Religion is bringing me peace and I am insecure so take it or leave it. There is a saying in AA, eat the meat and spit out the bones. I like the bones. Obviously, and me thinking there is something else in this world than this world, keeps my inner darkness in check. Shot to self-pride, taken. Okay I feel better now.
Damien
Bury me.
okay.
Pow
Alice in Chains, Man in the Box
I like this song and boxes are cool..
Look.
That was easy.
I am kind of more awake now, see clearly, I am not addicted to caffeine. I need nothing but myself.
Liar.
I need a cup of coffee. This sucks…
I need to learn to use the ****ing
Coffee maker…
I hate being a pathetic loser.
I don’t want to break the stupid thing.
I think I might finally be coming to know God. I am finding great peace in this, and have started, through my two spirited existence of schizophrenic dilation to be able to experience forgiveness through me and my friend and myself presenting and presented as Amanda. I thank Him for that. I am eternally grateful to Him for saving my life and hers, being one and the same, and am starting to believe as was revealed to me because I am finally listening, that my life has been saved by something Higher than me, which is pretty hard and something divine beings can only due because I been well… pretty.. high on things that make me feel.. pretty low.
I am finally getting that this is the point of the whole thing, the realizations that I am coming to now, are the point of everything. I am not trying to preach to anyone. I am not trying to convert anyone, and when I say God, I use the word to mean my higher power which is the God of my understanding. I use the capitalized and very Christian way of saying this because I am Catholic, I am Spanish and raised in two universes as a two-spirit or as they would call it in the secular world as someone plagued by inner demons or paranoid schizophrenic…
I love everyone, and don’t want to push my believes on any of you. I mean to say that I am just sharing what saved my life. Every is free to interpret their own lives in their own ways. I wish simply to share my experiences and the strength provided to me by the other worldly and give hope to those like me, that there is another way.
With love,
See Clearly.
Or maybe I made the whole **** thing up to ruin my day. It is not on the wall anymore, and my family thinks I am a lunatic now… so I think that’s just another day I guess. Meh. It is embarrassing to be me. At least I made it through the day without hurting myself or others… woo. Small steps in the progress of a small minded man with his head buried in a perpetual garbage can…….. nope…… not doing it. I am too tired for insane rhyming.
I had this sample of this chocolate cereal earlier. It makes very good ice-cream topping. The ice cream also makes good cereal side kick. Kick cereal’s *** sugar! Woo! I am tired, my arms hurt from the infection under my arm I got from my knee spread there. It is healing but hurts like ****. It hurts more because of psychotically scrubbing a non-existent stain off a wall…. brought to you by side effects of years of meth use… don’t do drugs. This sucks. I am like a walking anti-drug commercial. Wanna be like Damien? Damien doesn’t even want to be like Damien anymore and he is in love with himself………meh….meh…..this sucks. I don’t even feel bad for me anymore and I am in love with myself. I am never getting high again. I am done embarrassing myself now.
Later
some jerk who ruined his body.
Starry, starry night Paint your palette blue and gray Look out on a summer’s day With eyes that know the darkness in my soul
Don mcclean
Don McLean Starry Starry Night, Ode to Vincent Van Gogh
So now it happened during the day while I was awake enough to get my *** up and run with her, mind you I don’t know how the **** we did it. She was watching me, while I was on here, and I didn’t know it. I was posting things online for a friend of mine who I help manage her small business, she is an awesome woman. One of the best friends anyone could ask for. She also knows a lot about antiques and vintage everything. Anyway, so I am sitting here e·mersed in trying to find things, looking through other peoples written work, whatever… I don’t know and I can feel her looking at me, she has this eerie way of looking through me, as if she can see into my soul, and I got weird about it, made some sort of strange face, and I think we switched bodies for a second, you know like that stupid movie from the seventies not the movie with Lohan, but the original one?
Yeah, I remember, Damien.
Cool you heard me. I was freaking out so I thought it be nice to say hi.
Gotcha.
She looked at me and I felt her feelings, I felt how she was afraid in the same way I am afraid of her, that she was afraid of me, not liking her… that her introversion was my introversion and it was only a second, but I feel like I know her so much better, I trust her completely. She is like me 2.0, wow… narcissism…
Gross.
Later.
Damien.
Check this out!
I just remembered what I was going to say before ranting like a lunatic about nothing! I had the same lucid dream as my daughter while sleep walking and we both saw versions of ourselves in rainbow colors walk off somewhere, I tried to follow me and couldn’t because I am an out of shape drug addict, but she actually got outside and sat down where it left her and it was freaking awesome because in the sky there was this dancing constellation that when I looked at it and thought at it it responded my thoughts by moving at me and I think that means that there is an opposing joy spectre that we are contacting through defeating misery and i am so excited about
that. Okay breathe in.
Sorry. I do that sometimes.
Hope you stayed with me on that one, but if not, I’ll explain later? I’m tired now, and have to take a shower.
Later
Damien/Amanda
Leave you with this, click if you will…
An excellent way to get rid of deer who eat your flowers
And now this.
Found this lounge singer style version of the song, which I learned was originally made a long time ago, and covered by Smith. I had no idea, the things you learn from listening to Amanda’s life. My life too.
I am still getting used to that, she made peace with her dad, which is great because resentment is the self-hating mind killer, and both of us are very practiced in the art of slow death. I would rather spend my cash on laughs, nicotine and fire works. I haven’t gone back to that store yet. I used to work there, and they fired me for using drugs… meh… stupid firework store…
This house is getting more peaceful. I am realizing the effect people have on each other, and how much I used to poison those around me. My wife is so much more serine now, and doesn’t **** me off anymore, and I think I don’t piss her off that much.
Here.
Later
Damien & Amanda
Do you find
Do you run and combine
Concubine so binding, so ever minding, so reminding of your station and fixation with deviant sensation bringing temporary elation, but really just a meditation on
DEATH
Do you seek to die little girl or boy in a world
So cruel
I WILL TAKE OUT YOUR EYE IF YOU MOVE!
You will lose voice in my head that speaks of dread
I am not dead, I am not bread. I am not food.
I am addicted to life in hand.
I am man. I am loud. I cry out.
**** you!
You will eat what you have known and chewed, which my
LEG
Poison meat. So sweet.
Heroic for you, see I can do it too
Overdose on me.
Seasoned by disease.
I am free free free
I am me
Unshackled by the attacking attacker of lacking sacked madness
I am the hacky sacker playing with hands not taken away.
I am clay staying to play
I am go away
Misery
Today is not your ******* day.
My wife has started taking Joy with her on walks, we don’t like to go anywhere alone, because there is not a witness if something happens. I am extremely paranoid, and having an adult child is a good antidote. I do not mean to say that our daughter is our caretaker or something, she very much has her own life. My wife and I just make it possible now for her to be open and honest with us about everything, so that she can come to us with anything. I know she will most likely follow the same path we did, and I am not going to try and stop her, just be a kind voice, providing guidance when her lifestyle choices fail like ours did. I want her to have what we deprived ourselves of, understanding. Amanda had this understanding her whole life and squandered it. Not unlike me, in my parallel misery a pain miser, squandering my whole life in pursuit of flesh, worshiping death and existing in perpetual soul sucking spinning, falling over at the knees… sorry not right now…
Look at this.
I can be anything you want me to, baby?
What’s your name honey?
MY NAME IS MONEY MONEY MONEY
PAY ME IN CASH I AM BATTED LASH I AM A CHICKEN
Girl covered in feathers screaming tar tar tar
Give me tar tar tar in a jar
Give me blank
Get me tanked. I need pay PAY PAY PAY
I am soul SOUL SOUL SOLE DECAY K K K K?
GO AWAY WAY WAY I WANT DEATH DEATH DEATH
I AM ME ME ME I AM FREE FREE FREE
I GET PAID PAID PAID
And… buy
DEATH DEATH DEATH
End of transmission of fiction eyes listening A Diction of the dictations of addiction.
No she is not, you don’t kill, you torture, you are source of disorder and perpetual pain enforcer
You are a sorcerer of remorse on deadly course that needs interaction for satisfaction and I am not stupid anymore so I can stop rhyming because you are a sore on the
Screw you.
I am done.
It is the strangest thing, me and Amanda are working together now, through our weird telepathy thing on this site, my wife and daughter are painting. I still feel like *^&$, but I figure the longer and farther away I get from using meth and heroin, the better I will feel. I hate and love getting older, I hate it because I still feel really crappy all the time, my hands burn constantly from damage to my nerves from drug use, I am nauseous all the time, because of this stupid medication for staff from the above, but I actually have never been happier. I think the integration of our dual consciousness is helping Amanda with our family as with mine. We are both helping each other be less selfish,and helping each other do small favors for family and friends that have become joint through inter-dimensional sharing of thoughts. I am so glad I am done.
I was so tired of running. Being a con-artist with every addiction there was who was also homeless and had no friends was exhausting, honestly the only thing that saved both of us was each other. The spirit guide nature of our relationship has made us both less selfish because for some reason I feel tremendous sympathy seeing another narcissist cry. I hate how it feels myself and am well acquainted with the soul retching mini death that it feels like to be gut punched with rejection while simultaneously thinking you are thinking you are the best thing ever and better off alone. Bye bye perpetual ego death. I will take feeling physically awful for a little while, meth and heroin suck.
Later
Damien
So I was revamping the website, and listening to music I haven’t heard since the last time I listened to music. I have been talking on and off to Amanda and it’s nice because we can now kind of communicate through telepathy sort of, so we don’t look like lunatics on here or outside. I like sharing a soul with someone, it makes me less lonely. I hate being stuck in the clawing madness of my own cycle driven head of unicycle lunacy. I feel like a cat under attack just trying to claw out his eyes, to be able to not see a predator before it kills me.
That made no sense, I would still feel the whole thing. I really am starting to believe that the infections that have caused me and Amanda to lose fingers were because of past… choices. I am glad I am not doing that anymore. My body came with the missing fingers, she had to go through the whole surgery thing, which I guess sucked, but when you have really bad nerve damage from bad life choices you start to not mind anymore because meh… I can’t feel my hands much anyway, alcohol nerve death and bad blood flow because of blow out veins… at least its a shot at my vanity. Swish. Nothing but net loss on the subject of cost of nets tossed in… nope…. not doing it…
This is fun. That thing is really funny, silly rhyme demons.
Later
Damien
The soul of a woman lost sometimes pays a great cost, she loses those around, they disappear in lacking sound, she then begins to smack in a self attack at her courage which she lack already sent to fuel the fires of many, she is a deadly prescription, eating pain in this fiction and I sent to her an inscription that was a secret self infliction being a reminder in clear of her addiction to fiction speaking through lies and despise and now she cries with shut eyes
Oh woe is me, I cannot see, I am blinded by thee that I set against friend. I am at bitter end of life, I am riddled with riddling strive, I am hard cutting knife of pain, I am the disdain of acid rain. I am polluting soul attacking self. I am bottle staring into depths of hell. I am the idea of dwell I am the swell of crashing wave I am the man you did forsake I am the idea of take take take
I am losing
I am melting
I am feeling the effect of dealing pain
Stealing rain
I am a retching ball of lack’s attack
I am the idea of getting sacked for doing
Stop. mean.
I am the failure to be human being
Stop that’s too mean.
wifhfhigolsghkjewb
Do you enjoy your job?
My hands just tried to type something stupid as the title of this post. You figure it out. My one job is working as… a#$
I am working for myself, as a redeemer of my own soul through trying to show people what I no no no
Know, and help those who think that they are forever lost
Toss toss toss
The can of sauce that flavors world like death
eat me eat me ear
see see see
hear hear hear
I am trying to bring to you the simulation of the struggle which has done done done done
away with all my joy joy joy
love hope and friends
To rebuild my life.
I am a writer who has experienced a lot of failure. But I will succeed, because I am strong and have the power of love. I am a bringer of joy, that is my job.
I think it thinks it’s a pain atm?
This is just stupid.
It really likes breaking language.
Of course it does, it’s addicted to its own
SELF SELF SELFISH I
Don’t let it hit you were it hurts. Be decent don’t worry about the past. Make it up by living now. I think that is ow you battle this thing.
This is freaking fun.
It just tried to type fun as gun,
You don’t have hands
Neither do you.
Was that you or it.
It.
This thing is like patheticness incarnate.
Words sword dor door download death add cash plus mass on soul
I am hole. I am whole, I am viral. Infection of mind
Mind Mind Mind. Mine.
Go Away.
I think we are really making it mad, this is freaking cool.
Yeah, I think we might be winning.
I am glad you found Rei.
I am glad you found Peace.
Wouldn’t it be sick if I met a girl named Peace?
Yes.
Rei I mean. I didn’t flip out, I let her hug me and we both smiled at each other and then started to cry and she held onto me and told again and then walked away, I love her so much. I really needed that and she knew it, even though I didn’t, women are strange. I am amazed at how much I didn’t learn about them.
You spent most of your life killing them before they could even be bothered to hug you, calm down.
That was literally the worst reaction you could have ever had.
No it wasn’t, it made you more comfortable because now you don’t have to acknowledge you something nice, and get to attack me instead.
Thanks.
You’re welcome.
What are friends for.
For attacking in moments of debilitating self-doubt.
Let’s just go with that. It’s progress somehow.
Adrian was a nice girl, she had long hair she could twirl, up in a bun because she was so fun, but she had a heart made of glass, it was full of white smoke, if pulling on her glass ribs you could toke, you could pull you could try, and be lucky while high on the eye of this marvelous delight, she was a lover of night, she spoke with ease, brought men to knees and if not paid she would not fight,
And then came a tragic day, when poor Adrian had to go away, because clamp down she did, and with a soul crushing dig, poor Adrian was crushed to the ground.
Now I hear it said that she could learn, that pleasing the human was a mere turn or a twist of programming this poor unfortunate soul. Now left for Adrian there is no coffin, there is no funeral, people do not stop by often, there is no grave, nor no tears, and I think I’m the only one who fears, that before she was bot, she was girl,
What if Adrian was engineered to be this, instead of fixing cars to give kiss,
and then slowly taken with knife was all that gave life to a humanity not acknowledged by any.
I wonder if the Adrian’s are plenty, the vacant eyes of street, that dare not meet mine, no one erects them a shrine because it is shining eyes they lack and they carry them out in a sack.
I speak in words, in heart I rumble, you disgusting wench who reeks of fear, you crying *^%#, drinking of shared beer, you think you’re smart but you are not, your just like him and smell of rot. You deceive yourself most of all, beckoning like a servant called, to man so weak he harvest souls, dug graves for men and woman folks, he killed your friends, your family too. He does this and then he’s done with you. You love him so, oh how great. Your pain will be to me a taste of heart and soul that is quiet rare, useless b**ch with such kind stare. I do not hate you, for you don’t matter, latter for death on silver platter, he is my servant don’t you see how you don’t even matter to me?
Amanda?
Help. This is intense.
Just don’t listen to it. It hates that. That’s why he talks all the time, to shout over its voice.
Just keep talking. It hates talking.
Amanda?
Yes, you don’t usually talk to me what’s up? I think I know, what is the real deal with this thing? I thought it just wanted him?
I don’t think so, I think it wants anyone. I think it collects the souls of anyone it can weaken enough to take. I am very weak. He is very weak. That is why him and I talk as much as we do. It hunts us all the time. That is how I found out he even existed. What is it saying to you?
Anything to target my relationship with him. Anything that makes me feel like I would want to leave him.
I wonder if it just wants him sometimes. I don’t know either, man.
I don’t get it, what did I do?
You did nothing that is why it wants you. It likes to poison anything that tastes of love, and it really wants to hurt him for some reason. I think it liked having us as its slaves for so long. I think it doesn’t want us all talking. It’s afraid and it doesn’t like it.
What do I do?
Just try not to listen to it. It’s a liar.
I warned you kindly, miss Rei that in your very name I stay
You are not person, but a curse, a poison, witch, a death, a hearse
Hear se I, I see you, I am every thing you do, you say you love him but you do not
You are torture
Your mind is hot
With peril dark and poison too
Heroin that is you.
You sedative of the mind of ba***rd. You child of sin, getting plastered on face of liar that lays on floor, that kills brother, and sleeps with whore, you filthy *&*^ and dirty liar, your soul will burn in my hell fire. I hate you too, though to you I speak little, your just his toy, his rib, his middle
Piece of nothing, cake of lies. Whore of babbling, talker of despise. You disgusting wretch, you waste of space, you are not a character you are a taste of whorish flesh and touch of sin, I speak not to you because you rot from within, you are weak and I am strong, my power lasts longer than love’s song.
He is mine, and you are dead. I will always have his head.
I am walking through the woods, and I can’t see you or tell, if you are with me or in Hell. I do not speak of the religious place, but where you go when you lack face, without a trace you disappear, eaten is your soul with fear, and I long for you and hope and pray that you do not there always stay. I think I have caught a strange infection, it lies in me without ability to present infection, it is instead disease of mind, and I am guessing this because now I rhyme.
I speak to thee not out of want, but mere desire for fire, and to taunt. I am the act of the never-ending. I come in cover of the night, and when you don’t have candle bright. I am an infection of your soul, a dark all eating consuming troll that seeks to taunt and bring your pain. Now you are among us. Human stain.
I don’t know why I typed that. I am scared. This is Rei and that has never happened to me before. I think it can talk at me now too.
Rei.
I am so much happier this second than I was in that alone-ness of winning…. I just misspelled winning by spelling whining. I have been sick all day yes, physically, but I have also been writhing in spiritual agony. I am so sorry I did that to you Amanda. You are my friend, we can be friends and be adults. I will not be a negative influence anymore. I need you, my family hates me right now by the way.
What did you do?
I spent the whole day crying, whining about my leg and throwing up.
Do you have the flu? Or is it the other thing?
The other thing…I am exhausted. You promise you aren’t going anywhere? I can hear your mom in the background. I missed every speck of your and my sharing spirits. I am so thankful for you.
I love you too Damien. So much.
I have been physically ill over you not talking to me.
Really? Can we be like before? I promise to not be mean to you anymore. I love you so much.
Yes. Otherwise I think I might have to die….
That’s sad Damien.
I know, I missed you so much.
I love you too. I am so happy to hear anything, but so happy it is your voice. I am back don’t worry. I won’t leave again. I screamed at my dad all day.
