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: existential
That is all.
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Swimming in the middle of the night, diver dives into pools of lack of light, chaotic swimming without putting up fight.
Chaotic in that there is no sight, site is absent, site is absent, dancing in the black expanse, swimmer exists in life beyond a trance.
Darting hands stretch out in front of no face, melting into outer space.
The nose dive undertaken without knowledge of nose, it is so cold, no feel to toes, swimming in the dark black night, existing only in the cold delight.
How have you adapted to the changes brought on by the Covid-19 pandemic?
I am more careful with my words now, because I never know who I am going to offend. I say this in response to the pandemic because whenever I speak about it, I wonder if I am talking to someone who lost someone during it, it has made me more conscious of others grief, and where they are in the process of grief.
Ever since the pandemic, I realize that I exist in a world with people who are also suffering at time, we all suffer on and off together, and I am more careful about what I say. That being said, I am learning, as of late, to be more conscious of what I say even than before, because I have been prone to rage on this very site. I am learning that I damage me by sending myself into fits of paranoia.
Finding the middle is key, honesty, without the hate, just critique minus the threat to belief or right to be.
I did a brief inquiry into the history of this house, and found nothing. So I don’t think the ghost has to do with the house, and what is strange is the same thing happened when I came back downstairs, so I am done as of now, talking about anything negative on this site. I will do my best to make this site a positive place, going forward, as I think this is something that is directed at me specifically and wants to me to be angry and miserable. I am no longer going to be serving whatever it is.
That is all for now, in this post anyway.
Peace and love
Damien.
I thought this was significant for me because it is close to 100, which is crazy. I remember we had to do something when I was a little kid that involved 100 days, I think it was the 100th day of school or something, we celebrated it. The whole thing was riddled with irony actually, because I hated it.
I told my teacher that the day counting was stupid, because it was just counting down your life, and who would want to do that. I think the irony there is amazing, for someone who would later go on to do the drugs that would tick seconds off my life and smoking and drinking. It’s funny I went from being completely petrified by death to being completely petrified by life, or maybe both are the same thing, and it is really just all the control thing? Dunno.
Damien
Having to live my life, I am constantly confronted with thousands of things, that no one even notices, because I notice EVERYTHING. It is insane. Kind of like this jumble of images, this is a visual representation of the dizzying process that is my every day life, an intense focus on anything paid attention to, but otherwise complete blur of intensity, that makes you want to vomit, because it make you dizzy, like these images, this is close to how I see the world, when I am not calm. Close, but not as bad.
Because the kids I played football with would say I throw like a girl, and after being the **** out of them, I would wish I could take this the way they did, just another insult, not something that ate at my soul, because I am a good passer. And I don’t throw like a ****ing girl.
Those times, I would go into my room and talk to a horse, that I had, it was this Arabian Horse model, and it would talk back to me, and sometimes, it would transform into a person who kind of looked like me, but different. My dad always thought I was talking to the devil, but I was actually talking to the devil back words, that was on purpose,
Got it, Damien.
Yeah, lived- devil- funny right?
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.
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.
Before I said anything, you never said anything. Before I said anything you never said anything. Oh, by the way this is not at anyone on here. I am done with people in my life saying over and over and over things about girl girl girl. Leave me alone. leave me alone. leave me alone. I will leave you alone if you leave me alone. leave me alone. I am not talking about this, you are! This is not in my head, it is over and over and over feminine girl girl girl leave me alone if that is all you want to say. I don’t care what anyone thinks but please stop saying it at me, **** it.
I hate this. I hate this. Leave me alone with this ****. I do not talk about the genders of people, do not talk about mine. It is unnecessary and very visibly makes me upset. Please ****ing stop doing it. NOW.
I already am, in charge of a burning inferno, right now, it has been word vomited all over the internet, but I am done throwing up now, realizing I was never really sick at all, just had a sort of food poisoning given to myself by myself because I was addicted to poisoning my own mind, and meditating on all matters not divine, but I am done now. I am walking away, so no one is in charge of my hell, and yes I own it, because it was internal not external.
The fires of Hell, a place, are really the fires that burn in my own soul, on fire from a fire started by me, lighting everything that causes me to feel fear on fire, but it has been revealed to me, by my friends recently, that I can just simply leave Hell or hell, which is preferable.
So now no one is in charge, because even if you believe in this being a real place, I am not dead yet, and can decide to turn around, which I am doing now, instead of projecting into a place I am not yet and will make every effort to never be.
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 was happy with her, with a different girl, she accepted me, she was the same as I was…. we both had paranoid schizophrenia. I loved her truly and deeply, I was just insanely ****ing stupid, and got pissed one day because she ripped me off…and that obviously matters more than anything right? Stupid…….. I left and went over to Rei’s or whatever she calls herself…….
I left because she offered to get high with me…****ing great reason… to leave someone right? Some else has free ****. I didn’t want to admit this to myself… that it was all about that. We had two dogs. I left my dog and my girlfriend for another person who said they had always loved me, but more importantly offered to help me on a day when my ex had ripped me off. So I slept with someone else because they gave me free ****. So I deserve this… I deserve her leaving me for someone else, because I did the same thing.
That is what made me turn my **** around. I am out. I am disgusted with myself, with my choices, my life and everything I did to myself and those around me. She even offered to take me back, and Rei offered me **** to stay. So I stayed, like a dog, then we ripped off every single one of our friends and left the area and lived on the streets for 4 years until we almost died out there of freezing to death, and I will leave the rest of that one for later.
I am so tired of the whole thing. I am finding peace in being away from all of this, I think it is ironic that a drug named for a misspelling female hero makes people the opposite of heroic. I am such a piece of ****.
I see no end, to your voice, see no end to no choice,
I hear you in my head, over and over,
Saying things you said, that I ignored, shut you out.
I would at the time rather have lived without
Hearing that you hated me, wished me to know with impunity, but now I wonder, and I fear,
Whether you were right and so my dear,
I am so sorry for shutting out
All words you said, because I live in doubt, had I listened, had I changed, would I still be in such pain??
Would we both be better now? If I stopped using then, had put it down, if I had agreed, done what you said, would I still be alone and dead inside
I am right now. I wish I had something not life without.
I was stupid. I was wrong, and now I wish I just had gone
Along with anything you did or said and maybe I would not wish I was dead.
See there was nothing to save, I was right, you were wrong, and you saved yourself from watching me slowly rip myself into a thousand pieces. I didn’t want to do anything with my **** life anyway.
I am getting better, and I don’t need you, anyway. I can do this without your help, because you never understood… I kept saying over and over I am done, and you would want to go out and have a drink with me. I can’t ****ing do that responsibly, and I told you that. OVER and OVER and OVER and you insisted you could teach me how to drink the right way????
I don’t want to drink anymore **** it. I am doing this now, and you are still saying you are worried about me, and you are still using????? HOW AM I THE BAD PERSON????? STOP CALLING ME.
THIS happened two weeks ago, de Soto.
No one calls you anymore.
That is not true, I have friends…. just not her. Just not her.
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.
Daily writing prompt
How often do you say “no” to things that would interfere with your goals?
I used to be completely self propelled, which may sound completely selfish, but hear me out, **** it, I am changing, and this explains how, and that I am realizing what an *** I have been.
I used to trust no one, because I can’t trust my own **** reality, so any interference with my goals.. was met with strong resistance, although I am trying to be more open to the idea that there are good people in this world. I am beginning to trust the advice of a couple close friends, who have become the only people in my life that have began to shift what I believe to be my goals, and by shift I mean establish, and completely alter, by making it possible for me to even have goals to begin with.
I am eternally grateful to these people, and I am so happy to have them in my life, they are truly the first and only friends I have ever had. The toxic people I surrounded myself with prior to quitting my old drinking/using life style are not even considered in the same category.
These people, have the ability to alter my goals. They are more respected in opinion than my opinion itself. I have never had friends before these people. They change my goals every day, by adding new layers of insight to the foundation of who I even am. I did not know this, until very recently, and still do not even know it now. I am learning who I am through the relationships with others I have begun to form now. They are shifting my ideas of who I am, what I could be, and helping me form new goals.
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 am so happy to be at peace, a place, instead of the sensation of mind erase, a drink, but also a place. I am no longer the feeling of lack of space, but am allowed to exist.
I wasn’t before this. I was a state of mind that was pushed away, a meditation thought to be decay, but now I exist.
Yes.
Drinking, using, any of that… is not better than this, and none of that is missed, not for anything would I give up this.
I am so glad to be done, and be able to not hate myself anymore.
I have begun to sow the fractured pieces of my soul back together, but it is hard, a reverse dissection of a fake infection projected on me by my own hand.
At least now I can stand on my own two feet.
Daily writing prompt
What’s a secret skill or ability you have or wish you had?
I wish I could emit wifi, myself as a telecommunication superhero of inter-connectivity. I would call myself Neutral Eyes, you know because it would make it fair for everyone who I was near who wanted better internet and couldn’t afford it.
“When we say that a man is jovial in disposition, we are conscious that we are using the name of the great Roman god in vain,”.
Funk, Wilfred, Word Origins and Their Romantic Stories, Page 28
I am jovial, I am rude, I make Roman God, a human mood.
I think that my human state of being is divine, my heart, so fine.
Watch me speak with words careless tossed, like man who loves to just get sauced, I am happy, I am free, I am elated, I am me.
I need nothing, I don’t frown, I am flying, don’t look down, I am gliding, I am elated, I am fixated, not properly punctuated, I am ranting, I am mad, I need no breath, just pauses sad, because in this state, I cannot last, I am the eyes of man who drinks from tainted glass.
Look at me, look at me, I need nothing, I am free. I am happy, I am me.
I wake up, hearing a street sweeper, my head rested against the glass door of a convenience store, I have 30 minutes, to get my stuff out of here, before the cops come and tell me it is illegal to sleep outside, and then make me leave, which I was doing anyway, and they make it take longer.
It is extremely hard to roll a sleeping bag up with a police officer asking you why you can’t do it faster, and trying to explain how you are missing the tips of three fingers, while listening to him laugh about how
“Well maybe, you shouldn’t have done drugs then!”
I know that now, didn’t know that then…
This lady comes up and asks me what I am doing, she is making this harder.
She tells me I need to get a job. I am somewhere else in my head thinking about how I wish I was a turtle, so I say,
“Do you know how long turtles live?”
She thinks this is some sort of veiled threat, so now I have ten minutes to get out of here, before the it takes one and a half hours and a ticket to get out of here instead of 20 minutes.
If I kick this chair, over and over till it breaks, and then say I am sorry over and over, then I did not make a mistake. I am not good at give and take, because it is all your fault, because you take, take, take. So I am going to have to break, break, break
This chair, right now.
SMASH.
I am not a fan of chairs anyway, they are stupid. I don’t like something telling me how to sit. I will sit, however I want. I don’t need a stupid chair.
Look at you, stupid chair, lying in the floor? Who is sitting up now?? Neither of us. I am sorry, by the way, someone nice probably made you, and I ruined it.
****.
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 am still freaking blown away by this, and thinking of changing the name of this site.
Unfortunately I ruined it, so for now I am stuck with this, and I think I am supposed to learn to release control
‘I hate my life sometimes, because I just want some semblance of control over something, not everything, just something. I feel like I have been in a situation, my whole life… where I am fighting to control everything because I control nothing. I get that I am supposed to stop doing this, and I am trying, but it is like being in a rigged chess game, or that is what it feels like.
How am I supposed to be okay with losing, if I know the game is rigged to begin with?
I know this all just addict thinking, resentment based, my life is harder.. that’s why I got high… got drunk… but my life was the reason I got high or drunk…… I am still in the same horrible positions I have been fighting all my life to escape, just lesser versions of them. I don’t get sometimes what the point of all this is, I guess? How am I supposed to trust something that I don’t understand enough to trust?
I guess I want to change the answer of this post,
I wish I could trust in a higher power more every day.
I am alone in the woods, on a path, in the middle of the night.
It is around three in the morning. I am guessing, there is a complete blackness to the sky, and silence that suggests the birds are still sleeping.
Looking up at the sky, I wonder if anyone, or anything is awake yet, if there is another animal that is like me and drawn to frantic pacing at this time, somewhere anywhere.
I listen for any noise that would hint of any kind of life at all, but there is nothing, there is an absence to the air, that suggests lack.
I breathe and feel like sound is missing from the universe, unsure if there is something wrong with my ears, if I have lost my mind completely, if I am tripping myself out, what it even means to hear at all.
I cough. I can hear myself. There is sound.
Looking up at the sky, I trace the existence of me, as something separate from the night, I can feel my hands, they hurt. The coldness of night bites into them with every movement, a slicing that feels like sharp needles, sticking into them with every movement.
I cough again, and can hear the sound, radiating into the echoing darkness.
I sigh. I am relieved to have released that in this all consuming starkness of light, I am still separate, able to feel myself, as an entity which exists in a universe of parts.
It is very dark. I can see nothing in front of me. The moon is absent from the sky, and there are no stars, blinking, I think I am crying. I am not sure. I don’t remember what that feels like, or how long I have been standing here, and cannot tell if I am looking down or up.
Moving my neck, I figure out I am staring up.
I blink my eyes. Nothing.
I am still shrouded in the all consuming darkness.
It is very cold, the cold has spread from my hands to the rest of my body, feeling like a bitter aching, hurting like sharp knives with each movement, but without the sound of reassuring wind, that makes me aware of passing storms.
I am not sure if this bitter cold, if it is something characteristic of the season, or of it is something I am feeling in this spot, right now that is very much specific to me.
I used to swim in the ocean after the life guards left, when the beach was closed to the public, in the middle of the night.
It would be pitch black, and there would be times when the cold water and my skin would begin to feel the same, and I could close my eyes and be nowhere,
One with everything.
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 am well enough to be left to my own devices, and you can leave me be, without having to try to bend me, and shape me to your vices, your desires to mold the world to your sacrifices, which are not mine, are not divine and are in line with high prices, not willing to be paid by me, to your idea of
Divinity, and your desire to incrementally ram down my throat, ideas that make me choke
Is the reason why I use to toke, smoke, and inject pain in vain in soul devastating reign of pain.
I have had it with you too. I hate everything you do too. I wish you would stop too.
The difference is, I am not saying this. I am not doing anything to you.
I am just being me, and being free, and trying to be.
Simply. Truthfully.
Free of you and everything you do.
To mold me to be you.
“If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it.”
Willy wonka
Seventh Circle: Middle ring: In this ring are the suicides, who are transformed into gnarled thorny bushes and trees.
I am the time breaker of minds, the dealer of time in items, for the price of penny for your thoughts-
YOUR THOUGHTS ARE NOW MINE
How does it feel baby? Is it making you a little… crazy?
No, it’s not…..
I am……..
I like dimes… dimes are neat… I make dimes on the street… I don’t eat because meat is toxic… I like consuming……
METH
From them
Funny spelling, does it speak to you sweetheart?
You are so clever speaking to me with MY voice.
It’s his voice, you are nothing.
It’s my voice.
Sweet. A 20… I make more money when I sound funny… hahahahahahahah..
Look at me, I can run through life so free, no need of sleep or fear of pain, no wonder my life is
DOWN THE DRAIN
End transmission.
Phil Gennuso Arts ancient volcanomolten temple of creationuntamed vast unbrokenfriend and foe for all time ********************************* This post is a page from my new Ebook, SCRAPBOOK DREAMS, available either from me directly or from my Etsy site: https://www.etsy.com/shop/PhilGennusoArts
I don’t really understand haiku which is why I never usually review them. I like them, but I am embarrassed by talking about things that I can’t really do myself. You are the first one that I connected with enough to look at this way, because I loved this piece. Thank you for it, and for bringing me out of myself enough to look at the haiku as an art form.
hai·ku noun
a Japanese poem of seventeensyllables, in three lines of five, seven, and five, traditionally evoking images of the natural world. a poem in English written in the form of a haiku.
dictionary.com
With this in mind…
“ancient volcano”
Phil Gennuso
I like how you start the poem with this line, because for me I am attaching this line to the use of the haiku as a style itself, molten, terrifying, ancient technique, standing in front of me in your work which pays homage to a style of writing… I have been to arrogant to be employ.
I like this the use of the following line
“molten temple of creation”
Phil Gennuso
Because it is showing me why the haiku is usual for people who can use this meditative style to write. It suggests that writers using this style are doing something different. They use a “temple of creation” being haiku itself to meditative on universal human concepts like nature.
“untamed vast unbroken”
Phil Gennuso
I like how you follow it with this line, it made me feel more comfortable after having to deal with the concepts in the first, because like I said, being told what to do scares me, and I think it was comforting to show that you can be untamed, and unbroken while also exploring vast mysteries.
The following line
“friend and foe for all time”
“friend and foe for all time”
Phil Gennuso
I think this speaks about human arrogance, but not sure if that was your intention. I might be, like always being arrogant and placing myself into my reading of this.
Thank you for sharing this, I hope I didn’t decimate what your intention was when dissecting it.
I am so excited to tell you that that Louise Swanson’s debut thriller End of Story is out today. It is published by Hodder & Stoughton. The year is 2035 and novels have been banned. However Eve is a writer, so for her it is impossible not to write, and to want to share fiction. […]
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, […]
Something like this, in tattoo form, right on the opposing side of my elbow, on both arms, because it reminds me why I don’t want to do drugs anymore.
You don’t listen to me, when I beg you, do not ****ing call me that ever again. If you do stay the **** away from me. I am not your girl, I never was, and if you want that GET THE **** away from me, because you will not get what you want from me. You will not get someone saying pretty things to you, that is not me, never ****ing was. Sorry, you don’t like it…. stay away.
I am not the universe’s gift to anyone, you don’t own me, and I will not do anything that is not good for me, and that includes listening you say that **** to me over and over and over, it is not some magical incantation that causes me to be what you want. **** you. *** your believe that I am something you own. I am no one’s. GET THE **** out with that ****.
There it is, the one word that describes me, blanked out, so I have no idea what it is, and you can guess the mystery behind its four lettered character.
The answer doesn’t matter. Even though the answer is the entire point of answering this question, or is it? Or is the point…. the characterization of a member of society who was before unclear?
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.
I borrowed time, I know this now, I experienced more of it than most people. I did not realize at the time that I was not borrowing it… well not exactly, I was being lent extra time by something that deals in a currency of spare change. I was being lent time in exchange for something, a deal made with something beyond my understanding, that knew me better than I knew myself, than I know myself now. This force knows everyone. It understands everything, and you can make deals with it, without knowing even. You can make deadly bargains that you don’t know the nature of that are not dealt to you with good or bad intention, simply intention itself, raw intention, raw will, there are forces in this universe, propelled in a direction of will, of will to be as they are supposed to, and if you fight those forces, you will experience, pain.
It is this pain which I fight to reverse now. I have realized recently that the assertion of deadly force of dominance is the opposite of what the universe desires. I have been made aware by the pulling in directions, that there is a force which punishes the assertion of will over the forces of a balanced system. This is all that I know right now.
See Clearly
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 am listening, and I have an instant reaction to something you say, and I react and for a second feel okay, I was honest at least, that’s a step right? I am not lying, I am being honest. I am okay with the world and feel like I am doing the right thing.
Then I think about what I said, and the whole world lights on fire, a fire not burning with flame, but with different colors, that I have never seen before, because I have never experienced a world of color before. I have always lived in black and white, never dealing with light of day, with human being, ruler of land of push away. I sit and agonize over things that are tiny and stupid, and then resent myself for doing it, no one does this. No one has to, they are not stupid. I am stupid and think about stupid things.
Then I realize that they know that I do this, and I think I am in some way better than those around me, and that the fact that I do this makes me superior to them, and that if they only knew how specifically hard to be very specifically me it was they would
DRINK USE TOO
I just got this, that this is the process of what I usually do, and that by taking a step back and not hating myself for doing it… helped me. Thank you random stranger in the park that told me this.
What makes you most anxious?
Time makes me scream, it makes me dream of things that don’t make sense or cents, that is not true liar, you have made plenty of money in time.
Yeah, but I spent it all on dimes.. I traded it in for dimes at the cash machine.
I congratulate me on a day where I was only an ***hole last night, and complimented random individuals in the food store aggressively.
They seemed confused.
I have OCD, along with the other litany of problems I have already listed here, heh. I got my hair cut, which is awesome because I didn’t have to pay someone in drugs to shave it all off because homeless people can’t cut hair, and I wasn’t so itchy that this would seem like a necessary choice, so yay me for getting my haircut and getting a normal hair cut so I don’t have to shave my head again. That sucked, I think I mentioned the whole mohawk **** thing… but if I didn’t some ***hole shaved my head into a split in half mohawk, and told everyone to look for mohawk ****.
Short sweet, and very fun for mohawk ****. I got a lot of sympathy, and a lot of free items.. and they found out the wrath of mohawk ****. Then mohawk **** needed to leave, because there was a rumor that I had a twin and one of us was a girl and the other was a guy and the only difference was the voice… convenient… till they found out we were both the same person and it was me beating my ass not my twin brother or vice versa… very bad con…
I threw my phone in the river at around the same time because I thought someone tapped it looking for mohawk **** because tricking junkies is a high crime… and people really give a **** about that kind of thing…. or something I thought when I was way too high…
My dad is a really great person, we had a really good time, he was talking to me about his life, making me laugh, and we went to a really good restaurant and I told him I am done with drugs and booze the rest of my life. I also got to make plans with my uncle to see him at Christmas for the first time in ten years, and say I was sorry for being a lying ***hole.
All in all a successful day for mohawk ****, or me with a shorter hair cut that looks nothing like that at all.
Peace
Damien.
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.
What makes you most anxious?
I named myself See Clearly because that is not what I do, I do not see clearly at all, because my ego it is tall, or it used to be I mean, because I am a liar, a whiner and a wine-r, or not really because I prefer whiskey, or anything that is risky like heroin or meth or how about crack or death? You know things like those, things you stick in mouth or nose, or suck through glass, because I want to die, and that’s not true, what I really aim to do is..
Get the *** away from all of you, because you make me anxious, because you hate me, or maybe I do.. I don’t know… but I feel it when it you look at me please ****ing go. I am telling you go away, **** it! I hate the idea of panic and judgement, I hate you and everything you meant
To say, but didn’t, I can hear you thinking **** it, or maybe that is me? I don’t know the difference…
I guess… it’s me… what makes me anxious is me…
and addiction and lack of control and framed photos of animals in suits..
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.
His name was Chris which is ironic, because he is a christian, so I think it is a set up somehow, like somehow someone is sending someone to spy on me and naming the characters they send after me in mocking style, because obviously I am that important right? Didn’t realize at the time, how ****ing narcissistic that was, and it is only now, that the paranoia is starting to fade, that there is not some secret plot to take me down specifically, because I am just a lying drug addict alcoholic, and I am not sure why being a serial killer sounded better than that… I have no idea.. it made me feel less powerless… I think.
I am very angry at myself about all this, because looking back at it, I realize how much of *** I was… how even though I thought I was always getting ripped of and deserved so much better, how much better could you expect your life to be when you are con-artist who panhandles for heroin, and basically tries to make people afraid to not give you money. I used to make 200 dollars a day doing this, the key was to look like you are going to rob them for more than they give you freely, and then if you get caught, you are a pretty girl, and you change your voice, and Damien is your ex boyfriend who put you up to it, and he hits you and you just want to get away.
I was such a piece of ****.
Damien
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 forget sometimes, that I have glasses, getting up in the middle of the night and crashing into walls because I did not put them on. I walk without them frequently and cannot see clearly, because I have gone without them before, for years when in active addiction.
The eyes of others, guide me, but I am paranoid, debating internally with universe, I question intention constantly, seeing things they don’t and debating with myself what is real while they are just walking down a street undisturbed, knowing none of what I am doing in my mind, while they walk peacefully next to me.
I clean my lenses, real glasses not metaphoric often, caught in an OCD futility of see clearly, forgetting that I see things others do not, and I am left to wonder, am I noticing things that matter or do they only matter to me?
I talk to those who no one hears, because no one notices them, they stand on street corners, muttering into what they presume is the dark night, but I hear them, and engage them. To me they speak of us not only of them, they have the same reality as me, and they seek to defend
It to those who say it is not real, knowing that it is, in their mind they feel,
So I say to you are they really that wrong, hearing voices, and the gong of death? Are their cries of madness from a reality left? Or simply different because they see things you cannot? Is their reality poison or are they simply caught? Captivated by thing you hear not?
Distracted by things you can’t see, that we notice with fervent impunity?
What activities do you lose yourself in?
I am standing on a street corner, this time metaphoric, not real.
I am looking into nothing, or myself, whichever one you choose, overcome
By voices, this time internal, not external, not externalized, not demons with painted on despise eyes, not lies or falsehoods, but inner truths, painted because I am listening to me and to you. I am listening closely, with intention to hear, because I have spent a long time, not doing so, with desire to unfeel.
I am wondering what it means, what I do, now that I am focused and listening to you. I am wondering if there is anything, anything at all to any of this for a personal who notices it all. I do not know where I fit in, if I do at all.
I am standing in the middle of also on the side. Existing in the middle, because before I did not have the time, I did not make a choice to listen before, to me, and to you, and am wondering simply in this place, where I stand, what am I to do?
I am told over and over, just watch and to be quiet, but I am confounded with the presence of a mind that exists in riot. I am not trying to assert myself, not this time, but simply to understand, what is the place for my dark mind?
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.
Extremely disturbing content: Meditation for myself- do not read if triggered by anything for lovers of abstract dark horror, not intended for those triggered by anything.
Explanation:
Trigger Warning: Mentions drug/alcohol abuse to show mental change in writer who is becoming less arrogant and better informed in recovery
Trigger Warning: I lied, this is a hallucination powered by Misery
Abstracting Abstract of Soul decay soul facts, revealed in meditating on meditative state of I am not so great but getting better.
and the realization of my word of fixation on fixes and the complications it placed on placement in reality..
Or I am an addict who lied to themselves… or I am an addict and engaged in addict thinking and am trying to live differently, by seeing clearly that I don’t know everything.
I am. I was. I am not the same. I do not have the same thoughts. I do not have the same name. I have gone. I have left. I am permanently changed, I have severed all ties, I have cut out my eyes, I am never the same, permanently change, removal of stain. I have changed my stupid name. I am done, un-spun rewind-ed, rebind-ed, reminded, unconfined, un-twined
Mind designed by me, arrogant yes, but not, just addict caught in re-wiring, and desiring new thought, because FIRST THOUGHT WRONG.
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.
TRIGGER WARNING: About sex workers or prostitution, and revelation of moments of clarity, mentions drug use and is very graphic do not read if you can’t handle this. I am writing for my own recovery, and to cleanse my own mind and soul.
You were the last man to touch me for free, and now they will never touch me again, because I realize, I charged with the charge of a heart scarred by being untrue to me. I did not want to be with any of you at all. I was not that kind of… person. I charged for the scars to my arms, to my soul, to the eternal burning hole in everything that it is to be me, and give things heroically in falsehood because what I was really doing was buying letters carved in human skin that told stories of heroic-ness, but what I was really doing was sleeping with people for free drugs… nothing more nothing less.
We search your basement hideout for your **** which you already did, I know because we did it together, but you don’t remember this, because we were together for a second, being together in love with each other for the brief second that rocks are thrown on table,
Rock, paper scissor
Scissor, I cut you out of my life, toxic friend, and all men, that make me exchange sex for bitter rocks, cast at my soul.
du·bi·ous adjective 1. hesitating or doubting. “Alex looked dubious, but complied”
Similar: doubtful, uncertain, unsure, in doubt, hesitant, undecided, unsettled, unconfirmed, undetermined, indefinite, unresolved, up in the air, wavering, vacillating, irresolute, in a quandary, in a dilemma, on the horns of a dilemma, skeptical, suspicious, iffy
Dictionary.com
I am up to the dubious task of trying to do life on live’s terms, although I am doubtful I will succeed, uncertain that the methods employed by others, will work for me, because this whole life on life’s terms thing…. is ****ing hard, and how can a bunch of people who seem as unsure about everything as me, living in doubt and hesitant to do anything without first consuming a mind altering substance…. How can I remain undecided and unsettled by something that is not unconfirmed… It is not undetermined, it has history and its outcomes are definite not indefinite… I have seen it work for other people, why couldn’t it work for me?
Although, I feel unresolved….or up in the air, wavering back and forth…. back and forth… vacillating from I am an alcoholic… to maybe… I could just have one…irresolute in my resolve to absolve from the consumption of this toxic solvent, that solves nothing… but…
I can not live my whole life in quandary, I am in a dilemma, that I have been in my whole life, my tempter the vicious disease of addiction puts me on the horns of a dilemma, pitted against the metaphorical demon of addiction…
Although I may remain skeptical, suspicious and iffy of the outcome, I decide to not drink just for today.
I always think of you today, and want to drink because I used to drink today
Because honestly, I used to ****ing drink everyday, because I am an alcoholic, But that dig at my pride is unnecessary, just trying to be more honest, so no one stabs me in the back… which is funny because I am the master of vicious drunk attack, which is why I have no ****ing friends.
They aren’t dead like yours, they won, they are still having fun doing what I can’t because I came undone, and now my life is devoted to becoming un-spun, so I guess I won? But, sometimes it’s not ****ing fun, and I feel like I am done… I just want to… that’s a lie….
STUPID ***HOLE, what do you want to do die?
No, I want to poke out both of my eyes. Or stab myself in the
Back? Front? Chest?
What like your favorite artist?
What a conquest.
**** You
“There is something infantile in the presumption that somebody else has a responsibility to give your life meaning and point… The truly adult view, by contrast, is that our life is as meaningful, as full and as wonderful as we choose to make it.”
Richard Dawkins, The god Delusion
I had a friend of mine really help me today, they told me something that helped me realize why I have been having such a hard time. I think that I have to do everything the right way the first time, if I don’t I get frustrated and experience feelings of PTSD from trauma from addiction and I start to hallucinate, and think paranoid thoughts like the bananas in the advertising in the store are there to taunt me, because the people who run the store know I am a thief and know that I am there and are doing this at me to taunt me and people like me, because they hate us and its a conspiracy against us, perpetrated by them, who is everyone who is not us.
My friend told me that this is just symptom of PTSD and that it will get better if I learn to forgive myself gradually and then the guilt will go away which is actually behind these episodes. My point being that I was able to take a step back from this paranoid thinking, and realize what was going on, and take myself out it to the point where it stopped happening, this has never happened for me before. I am so happy for this being a thing for me. I really thought this was not ever possible. I thought I was not normal and not ever going to be able to permanently change, because I was broken in some way, my friend told me that is just addict thinking, not unique to me, and just saved me from ruining my own day.
Damien
See Clearly- Trigger warning- mentions drug use
Mentions drug use- for my healing- not trying to trigger anyone- direct mention of drug use for my own healing.
Margin Eyes for Marginalized Margins that stand on the sidelines doing lines so we lalala can’t hear you
I was so high high high above you
oh so lovely to be free from humanity because I couldn’t deal with how much I was afraid of being hurt that I hurt those around me, because I was bullied as a child for having learning disabilities and hydrocephalus and schizophrenia and bipolar disorder, and depression and anxiety and narcissistic personality disorder and PTSD and anxiety and depression and tendencies towards aggression.
I am also an *** who makes excuses for the fact that I am an addict who wanted to get drunk and high and makes excuses for the fact that I am selfish and loved getting drunk and high so much I would make any excuse I could to continue doing shots, lines, smoking, toking, doing hits… than giving a **** about anyone but me.
There is no excuse for me, I am sorry.
Trying to get over it…
I run from an eight ball, or a ball of drugs on a pool table, that is also symbolic for how afraid I am of myself, that I sought death and intoxication above being ****ing human.
Make me human.
Begin simulation.
GO.
I am running, which is not true, I am doing better
Look at me! Look at me!
I am so insecure, and I am sure that it will eventually go away, but I don’t know what to do about now, when I don’t want to drink or get high but I am so afraid of people poking me in the eye, that I do it to myself over and over because it feels so much better than you doing it, which inherently I know you don’t want to do anyway, but I like to show dominance through pain, because it makes me feel special and important and so very unique.
You reek of selfishness Millennial.
Oh, good one cheap shooting ****
You are an idiot.
_____________________________________
I am a flat line, drawn in the sand, killing insecurity with an imaginary massive attack of stop doing this now, forgive yourself **** it.
Okay, fine.
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.
If you have the time, please click the above link, because I feel like it shows the dire situation facing this poor state, that has such a complicated face already. I read this and almost started crying because I used to live there on the streets, because I traveled there to get away from my ex. I saw such a dual face, the human beings that are stuck out there on the streets want help not available to them a lot of the time because of the way drugs are treated in California, and the way handouts are valued over in-treatment programs, rehab and recovery.
There are many like me, who were still using on skid row because it is easier to get a dealer to give credit then it is to get a person to buy a sandwich. Just saying. Some people want to quit and don’t have the strength to figure out how, they are addicts not to blame because they have a disease called addiction which causes a deviant response to alcohol or drugs, deviant in that it makes alcoholics react differently than others to introducing alcohol into the body, making it a stimulant for their sick brains, rather than a depressant. This is a paraphrase of literature on the subject.
We are sick, deranged, strange creatures, not bad people, and I cry for California’s streets and for the lack of another thing that propelled positive forces there, the dying of their farms.
So sad…
an abortion. I think that is why you were so easily banished from the story, because now I can’t hear you anymore, and I don’t think you are there anymore, and strangely, it feels better, maybe I am learning something after all, not just being an *** online. You were an inner demon.
Rei was Justin, you were their child or the child she could have had with Diane who’s name was Pat.
Demon slayer, I like the sound of that, because demons bug the **** out of me.
Okay, guess I am alone again.
NO YOU’RE NOT JERK
I knew that? But, I guess I forgot.
Of course.
Peace. I am okay now, and everything is about me, and I just hit my vape way too hard. Ow… dizzy.
So sorry I have no choice but to not pay attention to what I say fighting to go away in my mind, while I speak my voice sounding like awkward door creak, screaming cry or breaking glass, pound on floor, or kicking ***, awkward and unpleasant I am, I don’t know why anyone stands to be around me at all, why they won’t let me heed the siren’s call of death that comes to me in night.
I don’t know why they want me to stay here, just to fight with myself and with them, stupid ideas pushed by the desire to defend nothing but my desire to be right and to be in constant fight, desiring only to hurt and push away so alone I forever stay, everyone please go away… I can’t handle you in any way.
I am weak and you are not, my temper is quick, it make me rot in corners where I sit alone, hate voices and hate the phone, I don’t get it. You say you do, but how can you, that is not true. It makes no sense, it really doesn’t… Sometimes I wish I simply wasn’t……
I don’t know why I can’t say anything I really mean without being incredibly mean, I mean to say I do not know how to disagree and guess it shows because I either hide or kill and don’t like no’s or yes-es or opinions that differ from mine, and prone to silence or telling lies, and so I have been resigned all my life to sit and stew and not dare ever talk to any of you, because I fear my biting tongue, and ever present lack of resistance, utter insistence on being right and love of the act of fight. I am a jerk, a pain, a whiner a crier, a lover of war, of pain and fire. I am mean and I am ruthless, but my arguments you see are not with you, I do not hate anything you do.
They are with me, and what I lack, and my constant desire for attack and death smack. I do not know what to say, so usually I just go away, sit alone and drink or use, and my soul I sear with cold abuse, I am trying but I suck at this, I do not want to do this, and I miss things I never had because I live in fear and I can’t stop because I can’t drink beer or shoot up drugs, and it is not solved with getting hugs or sitting peacefully on rugs or talking to people you say will help me, they do not know the hell it is to be me
I am just simply without words, and I mean it when I tell you it really hurts living alone because you can’t do life, living in constant strife and being tempted to cut with knife, the very fabrics of your fragile life.
I am trying but I can’t right now seem to see what makes you so happy and so free, I am stuck to sit and to think that maybe if I cannot think of anything else, at least I know, I am trying, hope it shows.
I can change my voice to sound like a man or woman, it is like nothing you have seen coming, I am my girlfriend and my boyfriend, person with four hands that will convince you that is someone who is me is after me, and will stand there laughing, while screaming please save me, he is after me! I am a master of deceit and lies, crafting whole worlds based on the idea of woman despised when I am really man with blurry eyes.
I am the one who is beating me, I speak only deceiving me, everyone already knows who I am, they can clearly see me, spinning webs and telling tales of loves lost and ships sailed that never sailed because they don’t exist, I don’t own a boat because I have lived my whole life in spendthrift style, grabbing at purses with feigned smile. I am so sorry, I am desperate, I had a hard life and just need this little bit of cash to buy a train ticket, so I can get away because he is after me, meanwhile he is me and laughing
I am the one who was always crafting reason for passing blame and shame
because I needed drugs not hugs or shrugs or doves or hope or peace or love or bliss I wanted simply this
HEROIN, a sweet kiss of death an maybe some METH.
I am trying here, I am not a good person, and live now in fear. I am sorry for what I did and mean to say in attitude of a little kid, I was so sad don’t you see? The one I was really fooling was me.
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
I have removed all the toxic content from this site, that was making me want to drink or get high. I am done with that life, and the people who made it seem so much better than the very simple life that I have now. I am so happy to be done with all the garbage.
I am sorry for negativity that I put out there during all of this. I will be trying my best to move forward, and make more contributions to society. That being said a lot of horrible things have happened to me during my life, and writing them on here helps me. This is free therapy for me, take it or leave it. I am going to try to be more positive, but that does not mean this site will not remain what it is. It is a horror story. It will remain a horror story with positive undertones.
Damien
I like being able to just sit here and talk to this page, without someone demanding my attention, my daughter sits in the same room, doing her own thing. That was the thing that always got to me about the women in my life, my thing became their thing, and they made it all about them, and then I didn’t even want to do it anymore, it became corrupted with resentment, turning it green and glowing with an aura of sickness, corrupting the image, seeping into its every pore, like a MRSA infection, taking over its form and making it a different thing.
I didn’t ever want to write a book with that ****. I wanted to right one by myself, and she wanted to help me, so she did this stupid thing on here, and I tried to ruin it, with sing song **** that was not even any good, that was mocking of how she talked to me, all rhyme based and stupid, like a nursery rhyme from hell, she is the voice of misery by the way…….. I don’t remember where the **** I was going with that, I got distracted by my daughter telling me a story about Looney Tunes.
Later
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.
“Wherever they burn books, in the end will also burn human beings.”
– Heinrich Heine
EXPLICIT CONTENT: Post uses poetic analogy for the addict backed into a corner and told to drink, when this happens we sometimes attack like a killer or a vicious dog. This is metaphorical only, I have only ever killed anyone with my silence, not saying anything as my friends died in active addiction. These are allegories in all gory glory.
We are in a basement, a base meant for debasement of everything I have ever come to know to be true about myself. I am looking into the eyes of a woman who I used to know, I still know her, but I am choosing to forget this right now, not now but then.
Rei hands me a bottle, it had booze in it. I think she is handing it to me to drink it, it is everclear, funny name for alcohol that makes you so unclear..
I get pissed, so I put a cloth in it soak it in alcohol, by dipping it in the bottle, the smell of it disgusting, I hate it. I am sickened by the smell and want only to get it off my hands. I light the rag on fire, and she tells me the girl who sits in front of me wants me to drink it. I have been up for five days, and I would have known that what she is saying is not true, had I not been high, and been thinking clearly not thinking under the influence of things that cloud my mind.
I throw the burning bottle at the woman’s feet, Rei thinks I did this to burn the woman alive, and laughs. I was aiming at the book on the floor, the **** had a copy of a book about alcoholism at her feet, hating the irony I want to burn it.
The girl burned alive, because I can’t look in the mirror.
I watched because I couldn’t figure out how to put it out.
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.
It is so quiet in my head, in this place, in my life right now, and while I feel more alone than I have ever felt in my entire life, I also feel more free than I have ever felt in my life. I am so done with killing myself over my past. I realize now that is what always destroyed any attempt at happiness before for me.
Amanda had a Rei Clearly, he is her ex as well now, and a lot of what you saw me go through was what she went through with him as well, she is afraid of him, so personal details about him are very limited at the moment, and will be divulged as she sees fit through herself or me on this site which now belongs to the two of us, as Rei is no longer going to be around me and has no contact with my child because she is not her biological mother, and I am not going to allow her to do what my child’s real mother did to her. I am not letting anyone mess with my kid anymore.
This includes myself. I am going to try to be a better person now, think less toxic thoughts and help my daughter live a better life than I did, which includes keeping her away from toxic people who talk about my drug use in front of my daughter who just did the same drug, which I blame myself for her even thinking about using.
Damien
Will no longer have any part in this site or my life, because she has decided it is more important to be right than to be a friend, or be supportive of he sobriety of someone she said she loved. I do not have any harsh feelings towards Rei Clearly. I just do not want anything to do with her, and wish only the best for her.
I will try not to speak of her much anymore, which is why I have removed her name from this site. I am still processing all of this, so while I say I will try to not post about it, in the upcoming days I will because I am extremely hurt by the whole thing, because I truly thought I loved her. I am learning now that I had no idea what that meant, and I am going to try and figure out who I am before getting involved with anyone else again.
I am going to try to make this place go in a more positive direction which means removing people from life that want to make me over focus on the negative things I have done, and keep me living in the past. I am still in contact with Amanda, because I am still half her, and will be posting as both.
I am done with focusing on only negativity, and apologize truly and deeply for the public hissy fit and fighting that was my posting from last night.
I will try not to do that again.
Damien
She chose to stay with me. That is huge for me, she doesn’t need to stay with me, she can take care of herself, and she stayed with me because she is worried about me and for some stupid reason seems to actually like me. I don’t know why. We are staying here for now, and I still standing by the whole SCREW REI thing. I do not know how to change the name on this site, and I like it, so she gave it to me because she is not a bad person, we just hate each other now.
I can’t stand her, and I know just the other day, I was saying the opposite, I am an idiot who is bipolar. I am going to try the whole life thing out with my family, which is just her. Screw anyone else for right now.
Which animal would you compare yourself to and why?
I like the Lion King a lot because I like things that don’t take life seriously, because I don’t want to take it seriously, even though I take it more serious than I need to, and put myself through hell because of it.
I wish I could be the kind of person who is able to laugh at the darkness the way I pretend to but I do not actually think the darkness as funny as I pretend to. I just do that because it is easier to do that than to cry out loud and hear myself sounding weak in front of people who are strong enough to realize that being strong means feeling the very things that I consider to be weakness, and being a human being who loves and feels fear, and lets other people hurt them, and hugs people and is kind. I am not good at any of these things because I like to do what I want when I want, because I am selfish and an addict. I am not a bad person, just crazy and I am trying every day to be more like those I admire, the kind people of this world, who act with bravery and give hugs and love life, who laugh and love and share and are kind to each other, I am trying to be like you ever day because you inspire me to be better than I have ever thought I could be. I love you guys. I love every single one of you. You inspire me to be better than I ever could be.
What? Be like you because I am not and that is so unfair, especially since I am supposed to be the evil narcissistic jerk, isn’t that what I am? Right? I am the one doing this to me? So let me do it to me and leave me alone? And if you hate me so much leave me alone. I am a wreck, we have been over this, so leave me alone. I am not going to pretend anymore to not be. I am done doing things you tell me to do and then having you tell me to do something else, pick something.
I am who I am and if you don’t like it, I will leave.
I hate this.
Leave me alone.
Damien
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
Elliott Smith, Between the Bars
I am having a really tough time, going back and forth in my head, I think is because this is the longest I have ever made it in recovery, I am writing this for me to remembering how much I hated meth at the end.
I need unpleasant reminders sometimes: Trigger warning about coming down from Meth
I am standing outside in the rain, it beats down on me, pounding against my hot sweat drenched skin, it feels good, mixing in with my sweat drenched meth soaked fire skin, that itches so badly I want to rip it off.
My clothes cling to my body reminding me that I am human and a prisoner, in a world with locked doors, I am smoking a cigarette, praying over something that does not deserve a prayer, do not let it go out because I bummed it and bummed the light to light it and don’t have another one and if it goes out, the 10 minutes of peace I have before figuring out which bridge to guard for the night while clenching my teeth and hoping to find a person selling the antidote to my upness… In other words… please don’t take my ten minute delay.
I need this yellow light of slow down of
Traffic beeping so loudly in my brain, I can’t hear anything anymore, the rain mixes in with the screaming of an *** that’s drugs were clearly better than mine, ****.
For a second I envy his madness, and then remember, that I have been up for five days, and they aren’t even working anymore and I need to find a ******* downer…
And some booze, and a lighter, and this isn’t fun anymore, I wish I could lay down without feeling like there were roaches all over me.
I hate my life. My jaw hurts and if that **** doesn’t stop screaming I will stab him… Did I say that out loud or in my head?
Did I say that out loud or in my head?
That too….
Screw you too, I am talking to myself, because I am crazy, and it’s raining and no this is not your bridge!
I will stab you!
Oh, yeah bite me!
I don’t care what she says. I don’t care what she tries to do, she can try to come at me through the court or whatever, I will go to jail. I am not letting that piece of trash pollute the mind of my daughter, I don’t care what she says, she is not fit to be around my daughter, and did not want to be present in her life until she knew it would hurt my relationship with my wife. I have no hard feelings, but I just want to protect my kid from someone who would do anything in their power to hurt me, even if it meant hurting her own child. I am going to talk to Rei about it tonight, admit the whole thing and if she is not with me on it, fine. I am not letting Deb near my kid. I don’t care what anyone thinks, I don’t care if anyone disagrees. This is the right thing to do, because I know in my heart she is crazy enough right now to do something that endangers the welfare of my child, and that will not ever happen again, not be me or anyone else.
Damien.
Write a letter to your 100-year-old self.
Dear Self,
I know you forget this often, I love you. I am not saying this out of some weird desire to do something deviant, and stroke my own ego. I know that I sometimes forget that I am human being, that I have feelings to, so I hope that this finds you not in that state of mind, which I imagine it will because of how I feel right now. I love you, self. I am not saying that to be psychotic, and I am not doing it out of mental illness, I am doing it because I am trying to put a post it on my own fridge in the future. I want you to know that no matter what happens, whatever ways you fail, things can always get better if you just keep trying. I know this now, so I know you know this too. I just wanted to remind you that you love yourself. This is not weird or wrong. It is something everyone else does, that I forget to do because I used to use it to make excuses to hurt myself because I am an addict and alcoholic.
That is just who you are. It is no different than having ADD. It is a disease that causes lack of ease and makes you think things that justify doing things that are irrational like killing yourself with something that poisons you, because you have a deviant response to alcohol because of an allergy your mind has to it, like being allergic to oranges. Don’t hate yourself because of this, you are allergic to latex, do you hate yourself because of that? No. Same thing.
Love you.
Yourself.
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.
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.
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 about being able to look in the mirror for the first time in my entire life, I used to not look in the mirror because it would cause me to hallucinate and literally trap me in the bathroom for hours unaware of time passing tearing holes in my skin so my face would be destroyed, it didn’t work, I have no scars, haha… damn vanity. The one face scar is from when my friend bashed my head repeatedly into a table, I was on meth, heroin and drank a liter of vodka, so needless to say, I felt nothing. It was pretty fun? I don’t think that is the right word, bad***? I was just laughing at him manically, spitting the blood back in his face, telling him I had hep c, which I have no idea if I have or not, still waiting for the results…
It’s funny because he has hep c. He yells back in my face I gave it to you, and I look him in the eye laughing and spit in his eye. I blacked out after that, and the cops came, tried to raid our basement, and I told them I had fallen down the stairs, and they shouldn’t worry because if they remembered correctly I fell down the stairs all the time and they never showed up before, they have a habit of waiting to long to show up and my friends die while waiting, so I am a little bitter…
I don’t know where I was going with that… oh yeah, I have a scar across my head from it.
That same weak my dog bite one of my fingers in half and i duck tapped it back together and then had it removed later because it got infected shooting heroin.
That’s all I can think of right now…
Peace
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.
I am finally beginning to know what the word peace even means. I used to not experience the feelings of calm at all. On that note. Peace. Tired.
With love,
Damien
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.
I played this in real life, with no wagon, sometimes no clothes- don’t ask it rains there a lot. I dried them while naked and unafraid, because all the people on that show are ****** and I would totally win, but probably go to prison afterwards, so obviously they are not going to let me on that show. I think they probably have to do a psych eval before the thing and schizophrenic addict, alcoholic, PTSD narcissists with anger issues and histories of violent arrests don’t pass psych evals.
I would totally win that show though because seriously, I lived in the Oregon dunes during the rainy season for the whole thing, 8 months in total, with nothing during the **** pandemic.
Okay, done with this now. Moving on.
Oh, and all my materials were scavenged and I walked from western to Southern Oregon, and have done the same thing walking from Oregon to Cali. Bam.
Done ego stroking. I am a **** sorry.
Damien and Amanda Fact not fiction.
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
There is a line
He’s losing his mind, and I’m reaping all the benefits.
The wedding singer
That makes me laugh, for a horrible reason, I love to watch people become like me, and any time someone loses their mind in the movies I hear Nelson from The Simpsons and think welcome to Misery, ****, we love your company, we being me, myself and I… or the royal we, according to Walter on The Big Lebowski, who is basically me at any diner in the area I live in, and the reason why I can’t go to a lot of them now, **** it. It kind of *****, but is hilarious at the same time. One of the times they threw my drunk *** out I took my friends full plate of fries outside and threw it at the glass door which cracked, and then ran into the bushes and stood their talking myself down for thirty minutes while drinking fire ball to calm down.
Insanity and why I needed to get sober, because I no longer have friends due to all this. They grew tired of the **** as funny as it may have been, it is not safe for those who want to have a life, I guess.
I think I am funny, although I am continuing to try to be less of an ***.
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 wasn’t going to do it, but I have just spent the last however long, rocking back and forth about to freaking vomit. This sucks. I am so glad it will be over soon, if anyone is wondering this is happening because I compromised my kidneys, liver, bladder and had to get my gall bladder removed because of drugs and alcohol.
I can’t feel my hands that well because of lack of circulation due to drug use, and I am missing three finger tips. I feel like trash.
I get the infections from chronic MRSA which I have because of being an IV drug user for 8 years or so.
I have stomach damage from bad vodka, and whiskey, so I have acid reflux a lot, and I have a tooth that is killing me because I ripped someone off and they punched me in the face and split an already split in half tooth all the way to the root, which I left like that for 6 months.
Sorry
Damien.
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.
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
I love you too, honey. You are an amazing girl, my lack of ability to interact with you has nothing to do with you, I have never had anyone who needed me in my entire life, I was selfish to not even think about the possibility of you existing, there were periods of time when Rei, your mother and I, I am sorry, I am new at this whole thing….
There were periods we did not speak, and even though you came out perfectly, I know that during this period of time your mother was using and was not of clear mind. I knew nothing of your existence before I met you. I still know very little about it. I think your mother knows more because she doesn’t think I can handle it. I am so happy you exist, you are the light of my life and I wouldn’t be able to see past my own hands on this keyboard if it weren’t for the existence of you. You made me see what I was doing, how I was destroying your mother, and have taught me so much more about forgiveness than I have ever thought possible. I love you, sweetie. I am terrible at showing it. I am avoidant because I am having a hard time.
This has nothing to do with you. I am hoping I can get your mother to show you this because I don’t want to ask you to read something on here. I am extremely ashamed of the hard life we gave you because of our horrible choices. I am working my hardest to progressively fix all the havoc, I am just very bad at this.
I will do anything I can to make it up to you every day of my life going forward. I do not want to fail you ever again in the way we did before or any other way.
I love you hunny.
Please forgive me.
What is the last thing you learned?
I am sorry for answering this again, feel free to ignore me if you would like, as I am using this mostly to talk myself through what I am going to do with my life. I have learned from the whole thing I have been public displaying on this site, that I need to not dwell so much on the past, but learn from it and move forward, striving to be better than yesterday. I was better yesterday than today, but I think I have mentally turned a corner for the second and I am going to start trying to plan out what I am going to do with the future of my life, which I have been granted by the powers that be, whatever you want to call it to still have.
I realized a little bit ago, that while it is good to feel bad about what I have done, what I was doing was basically feeling sorry for myself, even though it did not feel like it because I was beating myself up. I thought this was what I was supposed to do, that somehow it was something I was required to do, given what I have done in my life, being a user of human beings to get high and not serving any purpose other than self seeking and destruction of self and others. That is why I turned on myself and sought to destroy me, which is just a different way of doing what I was doing before. I am going to try to do whatever it takes to change this.
Sticking to what I have been doing and making progress so I am less dependent on my family and more dependable for them instead
Making progress every day writing things that spread a message of hope to recovering addicts.
Trying to establish a network of friends that I can do things with other than drink and use
Continue going to meetings
Seek professional help/medication
Get my financial situation under control
Get my health under control
Start doing positive instead of negative things
Be a better person
Start trying to have fun again
I feel like the decision to seek professional help is going to help me going forward. I am learning through getting to know her better that my daughter is a lot like me and I can’t bring myself to keep doing this to her, because whether or not I like it she is watching me do this to myself. I know I have a right to feel anything I want about this, but sitting on the floor wallowing in self-pity propelled by self-loathing is not the answer either. I am thinking this might actually make it possible for me to maintain some kind of progress and move on with my life.
I might be able to finally do something that way that is not so entirely self focused. I am going to make an effort to try to be less selfish in any way I can, which means I am going to have to give up on the excuse of it being just the way my brain works, because if that is true I would have to say I don’t want it to be this way and I would try to fix it anyway. I don’t want to be a source of worry for my family anymore. I want to try to be someone they can turn to, as well as someone who turns to them. I owe them that if anything.
I am so sorry for my outbursts and for making anyone watch this, if you were watching it. I forget I am not alone on here sometimes.
With love,
Damien
So now you know a little more about our parallel universe, Misery, a Hell for those damned to be here, to account for their sins, while in the purging process of their souls. I am being held here for the time being, torturing myself because I did not have my memory entirely before. I was a man possessed by the demonic force of resentment. I am not in any way saying this releases me from responsibility. I am accountable for everything I did. It was me acting under the possession of an inner demon. I think that is why my name is what it is.
I am supposed to learn to get out of my Cain kingdom of Misery and walk back to the Garden of Eden, with Rei, my ray of light, the mercy of my soul from a higher power of forgiveness and mercy. I get it now, that I was buying and selling hellish fire and being a grim reaper for the forces of Hell, that live within the souls of addicts or those damned to a life of addiction to their own pain.
I am speaking out this way, because in the throws of the driving force of desire, I was a passenger in my own body, very much similar to demonic possession.
I hope you understand,
With sincere apologies,
Forever guilty
Damien
(THIS POST IS INTENSELY GRAPHIC AND MEANT TO ILLUSTRATE DRUG ADDICT MENTALITY AND DESPERATE DESIRE TO GET A FIX) IT IS INTENSE AND GRAPHIC DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO SERIAL KILLER, AMERICAN PSYCHO HORROR DAMIEN REPRESENT RESENTMENT AND THE SERIAL KILLER LIKE STYLE, THIS IS AN ILLUSTRATION OF THE HELL LIKE SITUATION ADDICTS FACE WHEN FACING DEMONS INNER AND OUTER LIKE DAMIEN
I am personifying addiction, but also making an illusion to Christian demonic possession with Damien as the possessed like the character in The Omen, except he is possessed by addiction and heroines are his victims.
DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE.
ENTER ADDICT HELL
SIMULATED MISERY
WE LOVE YOUR COMPANY
This is done this way because words speak louder than pictures.
Listen, sweetie don’t make a sound, wait stop screaming baby, it’s okay, I will make it go away.
Prick, I like to play with sowing tools. They seem to make this so much easier you
FOOLS
It’s funny, now that I have your money, I wonder if your day should be more sunny, but I like color of your skin so much, I think I want to
BEEP BEEP OH… that’s right we are near that bridge, I wonder if you would wake up if I do this,
You are dangling over the edge of a bridge, your body loosely flapping like a chicken over the side, heroin addicts are so light when they get this deep in, too bad you wanted better shit baby, or maybe you would have
Smack.
****
Didn’t mean to drop the ****.
**** This is not going to be easy.
Your leg looks broken, and you seem like you might still be breathing, wonder what would happen if I did this,
I stab you in the throat, and you start choking, as if your overdosing but you are not, you slowly release this and panic, and I think it would be funny and worth the waste of drugs if this looked like panicked SUICIDE.
I stab you in the stomach, in a way that it looks like you did it yourself, which I don’t remember because I black out shortly after doing some of you in the form of injecting
HEROIN I like my girls dead and in black and white.
I throw your used up body over the guard rail, this is that area that everyone dumps the bodies of the damned anyway, and I figure by the time they find you they will not be able to tell you from any of the other street junkies no one cares about.
Click, oh your dealer called baby, too bad your dead, went to the wrong guy.
Now, I have 40 bucks and you’re dead, too bad so sad, maybe if you had 100 you would have been worth my time.
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?
Daily writing promptHow often do you say “no” to things that would interfere with your goals?
