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: empathy
I am looking into a clear glass window, and shudder, and everyone around thinks I am crazy, they don’t see what I see, they see clear glass looking into a very ordinary room.
Not this.
The glass reflects everything past, not just present, reflecting the light of times had, and present, multilayered and all at once, reflected through clear glass.
I see things that no one else does, things that no one else would want, reflections of the past, reflections of pure feeling, that are happening now, that happened then, that will happen, and I do not know the difference.
I just see them, without wanting to.
I see everything, without wanting to.
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I don’t get other people sometimes, the lack of understanding of those who are usually understanding astounds me, whenever it happens. I was helping Diane with something, and I am afraid of spider, so I reacted like I am afriad of spiders, and apparently it is a problem if I am afraid of spiders outside. Not my problem. Moving on.
It looks like it is going to rain in the area I live. I like the rain, when I am living inside. I am looking forward to being on my own.
I miss not having people accost me for what I am doing when my reaction is not the same as theirs.
Oh, well.
I am walking in the middle of the night and there is no one else around except as person across the street.
I can hear them talking to themselves. It is too dark for them to see me. I can see them, their shadowy form is caught and struck by the very faint light of the street lights above them. They are moving slowly, limping slightly. They stop every so often to pick something of the ground, falling from an open bag, with contents overflowing out of it. I wonder why… the zipper is broken, I see the glint of the zipper, and the twist tie that is poorly fastened to it. It seems to have been engineered in a hurry.
The person has a slight limp in their left leg, I can see that because they are dragging it, as if chained to something they drag their leg ever so slightly. It drags behind them, painting a picture of struggle in the sandy dirt which is characteristic to the area that I am in right now, which I cannot remember the name of right now.. is it… New Mexico… they cough.. and they turn their head. They have not realized the fallen contents of the bag. Wrappers. They do not appear to have any food in them, they are paper, likely saved as fire starters.
They don’t seem to notice.
The bag is falling apart more now, there is a sleeve of a long sleeve shirt falling out of the bag, the person, can’t tell if they are male or fema…
They curse. They are struggling with the bag. They throw it on the ground, cursing its very existence, the fall over crying, and sit on the sidewalk, head cast into their lap. They do not know anyone is watching them.
I went to the doctor and got the rest of my shots, hep a and b and am still taking my meds for staph infection, I am going to make a psych doctor appointment and get the rest of my health things in order, I have to see a nuerologist, because I have not done that since California. I am feeling so much better since I started living in reality, and not projecting my life into some strange fantasy where I feel so guilty about being a drug addict that I equate it to actually being the one responsible for hurting anyone. I did not realize till recently, how sad and messed up that is, and how it has ruined so many things for me, by my own self sabotage. I think I felt like being some violent social deviant was some how better than saying I was who I was because it made me feel like I had control over my life.
I have control over my life now without having to pretend I was hurting anyone. I was only hurting myself by putting all of that, the weight of all of that on my own shoulders, and making myself out to be some social deviant when I was just a sad addict who couldn’t handle admitting mistakes made because I felt that saying I messed up made me weak. Hurting people would not have made me strong. I am stronger admitting weakness, than living in some sick twisted Misery world where I hurt unsuspecting people who had nothing to do with my inability to accept myself.
I love all you guys who helped me see this. I am so sorry for anything I said out of lack of knowledge about what was really going on with me. I am trying to be better.
Love,
Damien
I would not trade this for anything in the entire world. I am so happy to be able to hear myself think…. I can’t believe the level of peace of knowing that I am not hallucinating, and am lucid, and would never risk losing this. I don’t care about doing drugs ever again. I am normal, well.. as normal as I will ever be, every voice I hear is real. I don’t really even have to talk to my friend anymore because we are merged. Although I still will, love you baby.
I know, but you probably shouldn’t talk to me like you talk to Rei, she doesn’t like it and it is weird anyway.
You think?
Yeah, it sounds… weird… creepy…
Have you always thought that?
Yes, but I liked it. I still kinda do, but not the healthiest thing.
Yeah, true. Talk to you later Amanda, oh wait, now we can talk because we want to, not because we have to.
Really? Like real friends not slaves to each other? That would be great. I always wanted that. I just didn’t know.
Me too. I want you to know, Amanda. I really value this, you are my best friend and…
You are mine too. I don’t need you, but I want you in my life, is that what you are saying?
Yes, thank you. I love you, buddy. Nothing creepy.
Thank you, I love you too Damien. I will talk to you later. Have a good night, and don’t worry we will always be okay. I will always be there too. You are my guardian angel.
Um… is that what this is? What was I before?
Don’t worry about it.
I get it. I am glad I can be the other thing now.
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.
I am confused is a good way to describe how I feel about you
You dance with no need for shoes, exist in a state of okay-ness that is beyond my comprehension, I have no idea what size shoe would fit the foot of a goddess, because a goddess needs no shoes, you are beyond the idea of shoe, having soles fit for walking through life without need for them. I wish to give you shoes but your mysterious feet are beyond my comprehension, and need nothing from the tragic form of a man so below you. I wish for you a world where your glorious feet radiating beauty are recognized as the shoes and feet men lack, but for now I imagine slippers made of stones that cover your feet, caressing them with the kisses of your star dust existence, I am sorry, sweet angels, you deserve so much better. I don’t know what else to say.
Strange creatures, that are so high above me, lurking below in the shadow of your reflected lights, you light up my life. Like stars you paint the night sky with joyous glory, that reflects kindly on me, not because I deserve it, but because women are beings of kindness.
You dance on me, not for me, I am gifted by your presence in this universe with wisdom coming into a world of nothingness, without you there is nothing, creation coming from the mind of a being of love who is graceful and loving enough to accept and grant light to darkness. You deserve everything, but have had so little because we have nothing to give. You need nothing and give everything to shadowy beings that are the men of this universe who would be so lost without the lanterns with dancing fireflies inside them. Your joyous presence dances in these glass cages, not resenting the makers, but seeing instead a request for help to guide them in pure darkness, holding our hands you accept the caging and we begin to see that if we let you free, you are kind enough to light the way of your previous captors with forgiveness and hope, nothing compares to the kindness, hope, strength, peace and love of womankind.
Men are blind without you generous beautiful creatures, and every day should be woman’s day, but you are too selfless to ask for that. Thank you for being you and making the world a better place, with your loving presence, all of you are my light in the dark night.
What is the last thing you learned?
I think that is why this bothers me so much, maybe. You don’t stop learning until you die. I think that might be a little melodramatic, maybe… I don’t think this website wants to assume they are getting to hear the thoughts of a dying man, which would not be a terrible thing either… I guess…. because then at least… well… someone would get to hear them?
Last thing I learned…
That it is important to follow the rules, so that is why I am re-doing this post…
Along that line of thought, I learned to not be lazy and that I can do an AA day count on my computer and bring it to the meetings that I go to even though I personally don’t like counting days, there is something to be said for the reverence to structure that in this case is my personal revelation that is not personal at all, powered by God and recovery to shut up and listen.
There, I followed the rules.
Peace.
Damien
What is the last thing you learned?
I owe you the sun, the moon, and the stars for being someone who attacked you when you were just trying to help me.
Damien de Soto, last night ***
What does that even mean? Last before what? Last thing before sleep? The last thing before bed yesterday? Last thing I allowed myself to be taught? The last thing I learned in general?
Is this up to interpretation? Is that why it is phrase this way?
What the heck? I don’t get it.
You really think you are better than everyone else don’t you?
Who said that?
You. Just now.
No, I didn’t. And no I don’t.
Yes, you did, it is up there said, by me. That is how…
That is not how that comes across, I was asking for clarity.
You were pointing out a flaw with the question to avoid answering because you are used to being held somewhere under a light and asked questions about drunk or high behavior by police.
This is not a cop asking me this.
Then what is the last thing you learned?
Before bed? I’ll take it that way, which is the only way I can take it.
Yeah?
I learned I am lucky and grateful that I have been gifted the ability and chance to do anything at all because I have lived a life of selfishness and deserve none of this, only being granted it by the grace of God or my higher power.
Thank you, good answer.
That was easy, and rewarding.
Yeah, I know.
Nice mental pat on the back.
I know that too.
Jerk.
Noted.
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.
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 eĀ·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…
The heart of a woman is deep, like an ocean, its waters, cool, delight, chill, numb, dancing on the skin of those who love them, sometimes they even speak to those like them, who stand on risen ladder, and paint back the colors of the sky onto the faces of the decaying cry
For the heart of man, that exists in the chaotic nothingness that are the heavily trafficked highways of anonymity, it is such an honor to paint with the colors of love back the bright light of hope onto the tragic messages that chant to those of the anonymous pounding highways that radiate through the channels of the night.
In rare times, like this one, my eyes are drawn up, to a fellow human who with desire for kindness paints back colors of joy on the face of a fellow, sensing moral decay, she says stay and do not cry because I can be the guiding eye of light, woman strong possessing forces you don’t know a dancing creator of beauty sent to paint on the highways of nothingness pictures that remember humanity in its bright childhood color.
You tell of flowers brushing my cheek. Of kindergarten, of hugs and love and mothers and sisters and aunts who save lives, what color do your soul speak in brave one? How do you gather courage to take such a stand against the fall of chaotic man.
I am scared too, but I am also completely enthralled with my wife, and psyched that she is connecting with my friend, selfishly because it ends the fact that she thinks I am engaged in a weird relationship with myself? It’s kind of hilarious actually, are you in a secret relationship with yourself, which you engage in by talking on a journal online?
I think that was the hardest I ever laughed in my life until I realized that it all also a jab at my ego, and that she thinks I am a lunatic narcissist who is forever set on a path of destruction.
That’s quiet a mouthful of insult. Is that a direct quote?
Yeah, why?
Because it sounded like one, I like her.
I know, I am you.
It’s Amanda.
Why do you think it’s targeting her now?
I think it senses it’s losing, and that me and you are not as easy to break anymore. It is mad and it is trying to create resentment in her to get to us.
I think it might have liked having us as servants and its mad that we got away, I think it is interesting that it targets this site too.
I know right?
I am just trying to ignore it, tell Rei over and over that I love her, there is a sisterhood that can exist among addicts, don’t let her think you hate her. I think it is trying to turn us all against each other because it senses a threat to itself.
Okay, I’ll start trying to call out to her more. Tell her I have no intention of taking you away from her, I am really glad you are happy. I am so sorry about the whole me leaving thing, I was just looking for an excuse to bail, I am good at bailing.
Your like hey.
Your name indicates to me, the sun
Some come my dear, let’s have some
I speak to you in reflection
Of one you love so much you desire affection
Thinking not of affected soul
Being loved by such a hole
You think you’re such special folk
But you’re like him a cruel told joke
Deceit filled girl with name of shame
Who speaks of light but reeks like stain
You smell of fear, now get out of my way
Or of course with him you stay
For I like food and your soul is mine
You refused to run when placed in line
With me and him, or him and I
I don’t know
Now you must die
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.