How peculiar

I met her near a bridge, she was going to work, she spotted me underneath the bridge, picking up the rest of my stuff, so no one would know I had camped there for the night. If I was careful, sometimes I could use the same spot twice. This was particularly important in Oregon, because it was not as understanding as California, and shop owner’s or random passersby could help police decide to banish the unhoused travelers.

Do you still think what you thought about her?

Yes. I still find it very strange that her name was Bridgette and we met her underneath a bridge.

Look, I know that is peculiar, but what you thought was insane.

I don’t think it is that insane that people were following us and giving quickly devised names, it is a perfectly logical explanation that you see in old movies all the time.

I guess that makes sense.

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Paintings of Madness

Whining is so unattractive it can’t be read, it is invisible instead.

Isn’t it lovely, isn’t it great?

So sorry baby, I can’t relate, I am addicted to madness, to pain and slow death, that is what I have been given.

I call it time theft.

This is my life which I was given, from the time I was born, ticking time clock was ticking. I am to be thankful, I am to be glad, I am to serve everyone, because there lives are sad, I am to shut up, I am to be down.

I am to always smile, only laugh, never frown.

I am to speak kindly.

I am sorry that I cannot do, I hate everything around, sorry, baby even you.

---

Miss labeled

I want different cards, or I want to quit playing. I tried all my life in every way, to quit playing, every attempt came with failure, and people glad I was alive, while I sat like always wanting to off my life.

---

Label me chaos,

I am a game of chicken played in red and blue, not green, but blue.

I don’t know what to do, except scream, because I don’t want any of this, never did, never will, and no matter how much I try, I am not allowed to quit playing.

Label me doubt, label me contention, because I love to scream and shout. I love the human word, because I in perpetual fight to be not heard, because you know what I really don’t care.

Fried Chicken

Label death, they already did, at eight, already dead, ticking, ticking, so thankful, so grateful, so sad, too bad, already gone, gone, gone.

---

Bright

I lived my whole entire life, on rock bottom from eight to now, on gravel, and sometimes jagged rock, crawling up. I was born with something, for those who do not know that gave me a life expectancy of 21.

21, 21, 21

Wish sometimes, that I had lost not won.

My life is all silver linings, and people say I should be thankful, greatful, for what, more time than 21 years?

Because I am somehow supposed to be thankful to have less time than most people???

Gravel. I am so fond of you. I know everything about every curvature, every outline, of the pleasant rocks at the bottom of the path that is my life, which I went off, because I am sorry…

I don’t like cutting my feet on rocks very much.

Oh, so sad your life went south

I mean that you were spending a night talking to me, I am not worthy of the air that you breathe.

I was very glad you decided to leave,

appreciated the pipe you had up your sleeve,

not very good idea to use a match….not a very good way to get the stuff to catch or melt I mean… I didn’t care… I was entranced by the glow of the light on your hair, but you didn’t seem all there,

I am so tired of the tragic tweekers

Pretty women, darkness seekers, telling people like me you want something better and hanging out with people like me… so glad you decided to catch your ride and go back to him, I wasn’t worth your time anyway.

I had a plan, it was a disaster and it failed, unfortunately building my whole life around maintaining and continuing drug and alcohol use was a bad plan… How I didn’t see this before is beyond me..

Jot down the first thing that comes to your mind.

The voice of HELL screams loud out at night, existing in a universe of lack of light, delighting in perpetual fight, and contorting those who try with all their might, but can’t seem to gain clarity of sight because they exist in perpetual spite drawn to thoughts of deep contortion they are conflicted and resort to dwelling in the comfort of complete madness, because of course it is better than blank lackless lusterr for boring life or anger thriving on perpetual strive that is inflicted with their own hands but they can’t see they don’t know where they stand, so now that sit here and right this because they have no one nothing

Hey. Stop that.

I thought it was pretty cool.

I think it is self-deprecating verbal vomit.

I like throwing up on the screen.

Better than what you used to do.

Hey, that was mean, yeah I guess it is but now I look like hell.

I like the way you look.

Thank you, you too.

How are you?

I am afraid.

I am too, and I don’t know why.

I don’t either. I am afraid too.

I always get afraid at night. I think it might be memories of having to find a place to sleep at night or maybe from when we were young and had to get surgery… maybe the finger surgery… probably all 3…

I think it is a combo of the three. I think it is everything bad that has ever happened to us, combined with the feeling of being alone, please don’t leave me alone all the time, please talk to me still. Please talk to me still.

I will. I am sorry.

I am not sure what is real, when it comes to this, because I see me and I see her, and she sees me, and I see her, and into a hole of chaotic transcendance, that is not transcendance….

---

I just looked it up, it is, Damien, just the second not the first definition.

I thought so.

I knew so.

You are an ***hole.

I was lonely, thank you.

---

Another Universe, Our Multiverse, Multiple Verses, Between Versions of Reality

If you wanted to know what it feels like to be us, me and my passenger, and her and me as passenger, it is very much like playing tag and then piggy backing on the shoulders of someone, except sometimes you are not playing tag, you are being chased through Hell, or running in heaven.

This is what the AI, thinks of this:

I am afraid of the AI. More on this later:

Welcome AI, here you go:

Welcome to the world of the multiverse, where there are multiple versions of reality coexisting alongside our own. In this vast and complex world, there are universes beyond our imagination, with worlds and possibilities that we cannot fathom.

The concept of the multiverse has been around for decades in science fiction, but recent scientific advancements suggest that it may be more than just a theory. The idea is that there are multiple universes, each with its own set of physical laws and constants, and that these universes exist simultaneously, occupying the same space but in different dimensions.

It is a fascinating and mind-boggling idea that there may be other versions of ourselves living in alternate realities, with different experiences, decisions, and outcomes. Perhaps in another universe, we made a different choice, and our lives took a completely different path.

But what does this mean for our understanding of reality, and how can we begin to comprehend something so vast and infinite? It is a question that many have grappled with, and while we may never fully understand the multiverse, its existence opens up new avenues for exploration, both in science and in our own minds.

So the next time you feel lost or uncertain, remember that there are infinite possibilities out there, waiting to be discovered. Who knows what wonders and mysteries await us in the vast expanse of our multiverse? Only time, and perhaps a bit of imagination, will tell.

End AI Transmission

I am a fried egg, I come in black and white, just like the soul

That decided to live life in the dregs…

Underground….

I am a tile on the floor of time, I spent my life on pursuit of dime in bag, not diamond bag.

I know, I am having issues, I think it is just what my brain does.

Having a hard time being alone?

Yeah, kinda.

I am too.

Is that why you are talking to yourself on a dark screen?

***hole.

What?

Isn’t that what you are doing?

Yeah..

Then why am I an ***hole?

Because I hate it when you are right

You hate being right? I love being right.

That is why I am friends with myself.

Wow. Facts.

I make golden eggs, with a program that re-renders images, because I have no power other than to play with light… or dark.

I remember everything now, I just had someone drill it out of my head, while getting a root canal on my tooth.

A root canal, that dug into the canal of lies, I told myself that made me out to the victim, in a story that was really just a story of one lying junkie that didn’t want to admit that they had fooled themself into thinking no one else knew that every dollar, I panhandled

Every handout I took went to fund an addiction that made me anything but heroic.

I am so glad to be done, so glad to be me, finally, for the first time in my life.

I am still half, that girl, lets call her Lydia. I think she is okay with that now.

I am because I am really also you.

I know, because I am awesome.

I am awesome too.

I know, because we both are.

Being able to deal with getting a root canal without having to be high or drunk, felt amazing, didn’t realize how much weaker being resigned to a life of lies made me feel, so glad to be done with that now, and finally be a whole human being.

Cat

I am the act of dissing disease.

Speaking for the human being, who exists in the state of being late to a party they were not invited to, so they came late, and irate, and irritated, and possibly…

SoOoOoO EEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLaaAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTTEEEEEEEEEDDDDDDDDD

That they can’t stand, or in other words, the hated human being, being seen through the eyes of demise depsied by demise, who cries for those who lay in a state of moral decay, by the act of staying away from society.

I miss people, so I am trying to find ones who like me, for being me, not just saying whatever, you want, baby.

I am whoever you want me to be, honey.

My name is Sarah.

I come from a kingdom of dust, and no looking back.

https://wordpress.com/tag/dailyprompt-1838

How does death change your perspective?

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.

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2023/03/26/rdp-sunday-muskrat/

I didn’t know the river, that I thought was a river, was really a swamp. I couldn’t tell from where I was standing, it was too dark.

I had not paid much attention either, having had to make a quiet escape, while my “friend” was sleeping, so as to not offer any explanation and justify my leaving.

I am looking out over the water, I am hot and itchy, it has been days since I showered, and by days, I mean… probably weeks, probably a month. I don’t know the difference between the segments of time, they make no difference to me anymore. I am itchy, and there is water… or ehm.. I was itchy.. and there was water… I am not good at the whole tense thing sometimes either… I am always tense…….. tense….. it is just a state of mind….

I jump into the river, or what I think is a river, and it feels good for a second, just one, till I realize what I have done, and the fatal error I have made. This is a swamp. I panic, pulling at weeds, and struggling to not sink too far into it, it takes me 45 minutes to escape my failure at showering, and I look like a drowned muskrat.

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.

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 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)

Reck

pay heed to something.

Less

a smaller amount or quantity of something.

before subtracting (something); minus.

(Archaic) of lower rank or importance.

to a smaller extent; not so much.

To me this means

The broken remains of something of lower rank or importance

a·ban·don

cease to support or look after (someone); desert.

give up completely (a course of action, a practice, or a way of thinking).

complete lack of inhibition or restraint.

This to me speaks on two levels which makes me employ both

cease to support or look after (someone); desert.

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.

Murder, murder, suicide, she’s your bride and you must die

To misery you have subscribed

I am your slave driver, I am your maker, I am your constant facilitator, I am your wife, I am your life breaker

I have your daughter, she is mine, with me you brought her

Into this world, so she could be enslaved by me your bride, your key to hell and to things referred specifically, without specification but with divine like sensation.

I am your desire for numbing beating drum of DEATH

Idea of life left

To control of other people, you need me as your steeple, I am your source of needle and thread to craft quilt that will make sure your head

Is rested and feet never tested, Damien come back, I am all you lack, you need me

I am the rack on which you keep all your pain, so you can sleep restfully so

You deserve more than you know, you reaper of hoe, you keeper of marrow, I am your sparrow, I am your bird, I will sing for you in Hell’s word.

What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain.
Turn the pages
What can I help you with?
Nothing I am fine, why do I look like I need help?!
Sorry, sir, didn’t mean to…
Well ya did, get the **** away.
Sorry just trying to…
Oh, sorry I am a jerk.

Damien, alcoholic addict in stages and phases reflecting forever in Narcissistic ever quest for self reflection

I mean that wholeheartedly, talking to myself helps me, and I am hoping maybe it will help someone else to see my displayed vanity insanity typed over and over, and it is better to talk to myself on here then cry myself to sleep, or get drunk or high because I am scared. Okay, not going to erase that, it felt very good to write that.

I have a very hard time admitting weakness,

Can I help you with something?

This says to my brain

1. You are paying attention to me
   • Stop looking at me **** it.
   • I am doing fine, if you only knew what my life was like you would look this ****** too, so stop reminding me of how pathetic I am by implying I need anything from you.
2. You have noticed something I am doing that illustrates that there would be any reason I need help.
   • I do everything to the best of my ability at the time, which is very poorly because I am a drug addict and an alcoholic who sucks at everything except engaging in fits of rage or joy on the internet, and I say that lightly because displays of affection towards myself are disgusting. 😉
   • You are telling me something I am doing is inadequate which makes me mad immediately because why are you looking for inadequacy in someone you don’t know
3. You think I need anyone other than myself.
   • This makes me feel uncomfortable because I don’t want to want or need people, because then they can hurt me.
   • I am terrified of wanting or needing anyone.
   • I would rather be rejected immediately
   • Kindness of strangers annoys me, because I am just going to say the wrong thing and cause discomfort for everyone.

Peace.

As much it pains me to do it I have to say, that writing out my personal demons helps me preform a sort of soul cleansing. I feel awful about all the things I have allowed happen in front of me, and I hope that my method is not too terrifying for at least certain people. I am just writing what works for me to stay sober every day. I am still the same selfish addict and a lot of this is

FLASH NEGATIVE
FLASH POSITIVE

Meditate

Talk. I am sorry to anyone who is disturbed by it.

I am in the process of working towards being a better person, and I am still an abrasive ****.

Damien

What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain.

My name is See Clearly

How do you create sympathy for the unloved man.

You say you are a lunatic with weapon who will KILL THEM WHERE THEY STAND.

And then sympathetic society in its cage so please wait no, don’t touch them no. I see so clearly now, it was me that was the enemy.

I am a horror writer that uses method acting in blog style format to simulate sympathy

Because I am a narcissist that sees clearly how to create empathy.

My name is Rei, well clearly, my name is Amanda, my name is IRRELEVANT.

I am an act put on to show reader what is dealt to the men of the street, hands flung in the air saying don’t worry eat potted meat. I am the bringer of sensation of fixation with death in a society bent to sell theft of the lives of the cost, this is what it costs. It costs the screaming of sad souls on words on page. I am a simulation on the internet of human rage.

I am the forever caged man of society’s garbage can.

None of this is real baby, it is an act of the sensation of

FEEL FEEL

You feel me honey?

Isn’t their reality

Oh, so sunny.

Nobody cares, baby.

I am every man in tent hiding on the street with bent posture and dirty feet. My name is lurker on street eating potted meat. I am the eyes of the despised lurking high in the skies but sinking low, I am the act of sleep in snow. I am please baby, nooooooooooooooooooo!

Did you think it was pretty when you hurt in the city, honey?

WAS IT FUNNY????

ALL OVER MONEY????
ALL THIS OVER THAT?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have no name, I am the human stain. YOU ARE NOTHING. I AM DISTRUSTING YOUR SOUL BECAUSE I WILL SWALLOW YOU WHOLE.

In the crying skies lies lying despise of men dead, with severed head they can’t see.

THEY SEE NOTHING

So distrusting. I have no idea what I am even saying????????????????????

Well, that was interesting. I am bored with it now.

End simulation

sorry kisses, honey

just a narcissist transfixed by the kiss of human sensation.

I think I may have a severe problem, other than my recent decreasing sanity, which I may add has been noticed by my family. I don’t really know what I am going to do because it is a two fold…..well three if you count Rei.. thing. My daughter has been reading this, because… I knew that…. and for some reason I thought it was still okay to be on here writing any of this, she came to me this morning and asked me to do something for her. There is this guy who has been bothering her, some jerk she met somehow. I didn’t care to get into the details. She didn’t seem to want to disclose much about the nature of their relationship. She sat with me for a little bit, and talked to me about how she needs someone to get him to leave her alone and that she thinks he would listen to me.

I didn’t bother to ask why. I know why. I just don’t know what to do.

I think I might have to do something about it and not tell Rei.

I am going to think about it now that I am thinking clearer and I will be back on her to document whatever it is happened and what I decided to do about it. I think I might need to put the fear of Hell in him.

Later

Damien

Repeating phrase of mental malaise, do you like pain with your eggs?

No I like eggs with my legs, or pegs in my kegs. I like to drain drain drain

Pain down the drain drain drain so it doesn’t stain stain stain

Because I have a hole in my soul or sole because you can’t have a hole in a soul

I am unreal feeling, concealing an appealing revealing of

Narcissism revealed in a panicked attack on the idea of lack

Because I lack nothing I am the all powerful liar because I am not powerful at all

I am an exorcism of personal demons powered by alcohol

and DRUGS

I am the pain of face dragged across filthy rug

How is that staph infection treating you Damien/Amanda

or Human STAIN

I am in your brain and my name is stain, my name is sin. I come from within because you are corrupted

But you are not to be trusted. Listen to me, I am Damien/Amanda mentally ill but psycho active and free from misery or thee.

End

Slam

If you look at this, a picture which I altered to imitate what I saw a couple moments ago, you will notice at the bottom the grey part of the screen, this is not what I saw when looking in the camera. I am insane, so there is a large chance, I just incurred another 250$ down the ******* drain. There is a chance, that the blue light I am seeing in the replacement of the grey you see is not there, and that my wife is going to kill me for taking a hammer to a motel room wall.

I like this band, they are weird, and very distracting from the current wall situation.

But, I swear I didn’t put a hole in it… I thought about it and the hole in the wall appeared and it is not like the grey at all but a hole into a hollow area. I am done with it for now, so I moved a picture over it and I am hoping Rei doesn’t notice.

Later

The idiot

PS I have no self control.

What experiences in life helped you grow the most?

I was SAVED SAVED SAVED

From life of SLAVE SLAVE

Enough of that, hahaha. Sorry, that is fun. I like to make fun of myself. I thought I was so free, loving no one, having only myself, well all two of me. I was my own best friend,

and

whoever you want me to be baby

Just a Roger Rabbit-esque fetish eyes version of what I was. It was not pretty, it was not fun, but a grew a light inside me from being perpetually spun.

This light is the light that saved my life, and I owe it to perpetual strive through self infliction through addiction. I am a hero who quit their job because they realized putting in on the end of hero, kills people who need hugs, love, sympathy and help. They are suffering from a disease which has dissing ease in its name. I learned that through 15 years of personal pain inflicted by me and my split self. I would cycle through

It’s your fault

No it’s yours

Till there was no place to bring the memories, and I almost went completely insane. I forgot my name, and ended up in a psych ward. I almost killed myself, but now like a flower in a garden fertilized by corpses of my friends who weren’t so lucky, I crying out, crying for them, hope to save others, even if it is just one shunned addict. Please know we love you and there is hope and peace in what I speak of.

Ew, I view raid

I side view

View is rad

Said is view

Is view ew?

Para dise

Para dice

Bear with me. I am trying to decode all this eerie memory myself. I am telling you this in the most clear way I can. It will be choppy like my memories, because I was intoxicated for most of it. I also don’t feel good right now, physically I mean. I was at the hospital all day.

I am standing holding a sign on a street near a 7-11, and there is a man who knows me, he says we have spoken before, and I feel the same way. I see in his face, I know him and I don’t know how or why. He tells me that he needs to tell me something, and that he cannot tell me this thing in public, so we go and people follow us, I don’t know who they are, and I am sober, I am lucid, I am paying attention. I can tell they are following me. I can see them out of the corner of my eyes, they are actually following me. I see them, but I pretend I don’t.

He tells me they follow him too. He tells me they always follow him.

I ask him why. He says he doesn’t know, he says he need my help. I follow him. We walk around and he tells me about these people, that follow him. He says he doesn’t know who they are or why they follow him.

I am standing in a different spot in a different place. It is a grocery store, it is 3 am. I am looking down at a pack of spare ribs, I don’t know why. I do not have anyway to cook them, a man comes up to me and asks me if he can follow me for awhile. I say yes. We go drinking. We are outside, we walk up to a house, with an open gate that looks abandoned tonight. The lights are off. The windows are bare, and there is no one inside. I am remembering earlier, the house… so full of life… a swing set in the backyard… a pool filled with water, and children swimming… the pool is empty… no water… the walls are bare. I can see this because all the windows are open and there is…

I am running… different time… different place… there is a blue splendid looking light in the sky… in the shape of a jelly fish.. I am high and tired, and think it is about that… I am with my friend who has since gone insane and we are on the beach and we realize there is this same blue light on the ground we run our hands through it, and spread it all over laughing and joyous talking of the beauty of the universe.

I am another place another time, I am sitting on the sidewalk talking to someone with memories that are fractured, telling me that he is a jigsaw puzzle…

You did.

I saw the n after that, jerk.

You didn’t.

Yes I did. I had a really good night last night. Thank you for wondering. That was kind of you.

I can see you too.

Am I supposed to be scared?

No, I just wanted you to know I learned to like you.

That’s good because only lunatics talk to monsters in their closets, people can talk to spirit guides.

So I am allowed…

I fucking found Rei, or she found me. Or, what really happened was. I don’t know. I don’t know…

I woke up in this motel bed, sleeping next to Rei and she is alive, and my daughter is still in the next room alive.

There are two living people in this motel room, three including me.

Rei is in my bed, not fucking dead, and my daughter is on the couch.

I am going to shoot myself, not really. This is the most amazing thing I have ever had happen to me in my whole life. I love this new weird typing lunatic.

Well, right now that is me or is it her or is it me?

I keep looking at my family and they are still here, and I can feel if I concentrate…

My universe being typed onto my existence. I think I am going to… lay down.

Diane’s daughter, continuity is hard for me. I do not know who’s, whose I mean, daughter she is really.. mine? Diane’s? Rei’s? I don’t really think she can be mine, because I don’t remember… never mind.

So anyway, spelling and my insanity aside, I think the girl might be my daughter, so I am trying to help her. I don’t know which woman she comes from. I think it might be Diane. If it’s Rei I have to hang myself, because I don’t think I could handle anyone coming from Rei being my responsibility.

I am pathetic, I know.

But, yes I know you can’t start a sentence that way, look what I made! If there is anyone reading this.

I don’t think I am the best person who could have been chosen to protect a child, but I am dangerous enough I guess. No one will bother her on my watch.

Poor child. I am literally the worst babysitting choice the universe could have made, but I guess not because it made it. It kind of makes me feel better about myself.

I will make sure no one hurts her, and we will get to the bottom of who she is running from. Maybe, we will both learn something in the process.

I have started calling my daughter, Joy, seems like a good enough name.

Later.

Damien

Whoever it is, that has been writing my existence. I feel like maybe if I am alright with it, and do not anger it, maybe it will like me more, and my life won’t suck as much as it has.

Enough of that, it makes me uncomfortable to think about. I don’t like feeling small, or insignificant. I would like to think I am not some creature whose script is being written out by some cruel god or some all knowing being, sometimes I wonder if the thing writing my script is really, just like me and is actually just to cowardly to admit that they are in every way me in some small way or another. I do not really know what to think about the whole thing. I am still bouncing around with what the whole clarity thing even means in a real sense.

On an off topic note, Diane’s daughter is insanely cool. She has the same kind of thoughts that both me and Diane had, and is prone to the same questioning of everything that is real, but.. oh wait… I forgot…. I wanted to mention that I am just calling her Diane’s daughter till I figure things out, I know nothing for sure, she might not even be real.

I am feeling less lonely now. I am really starting to think I might be okay, someday, no matter what happens.

https://reinventionsreena.wordpress.com/2023/02/23/reenas-xploration-challenge-269/

I am deviant creature, I pretend to be a great teacher, I speak through the addict as preacher, I am of infernal design because I am not kind and write of the peril of men and women like me, because I am the blind one I cannot see that who I am undoing is me. I am going insane, merely documenting my brain, and its moral decay.

I live in a world with fake creatures, yet pretend to be a learner and teacher, while pretending to reflect, sit back and reject that the person I hate gets clearer and clearer with every look in the mirrored reflects of me seen in my work. I am a developer of murk. I am also an arrogant jerk, who is obsessed with themselves and creating this hell that I pretend to use to make points even though I still am conjoined

In my heart and my soul with resentment. I am not that far from those of who I speak, I have the same soul and cannot teach anything to anyone because I stopped just because it was no longer fun.

Damien to whoever is writing my story.

Ps. I can only speak in letters, sorry.

I have recently come to find out that Rei did not overdose, she did not kill herself, I did not kill her. She was murdered by Diane. Diane’s company has something to do with it. I do not understand what yet. I am not sure what the God is writing my story revelation has to do with any of this or if it is just madness. I am not sure about any of this. I have come to a place in my head where I am just taking things as they come and trying to find out more about this girl who says she is my daughter, why she looks so much like Diane, and if she is Diane and my daughter, which would make no sense, because it just did not happen that way. It feels good to finally know that something truly fucked up is going on and reality is breaking or something, because now I know I am not broken.

I thought it was me. I was convinced I was responsible for all this, and now I know I am not, well not all of it anyway, just my part in it, which is okay enough to me. It feels way better than thinking I am responsible for everything that happens in the whole universe….

I am looking for him, if anyone who reads this lunatics blog I am looking for him.

I think I made a grave mistake in trusting him and I am using this only as a means to find him.

I want nothing to do with him.

Diane

I found her.

Damien

in a house that wears clothes that are an indication of no good.. that is the first thing that came to mind when I sat down here. I am sorry give me, oh right…. you can’t see me.

I found a pair of clothing and a golden necklace in the warehouse I have been staying in. I am not sure who put them there, and from what I remember I was there all morning, and Diane is missing. I do not think she is the owner of the necklace, and I insist with viole…everything in my being, that this is not being typed on here as a way to process some kind of guilt about having killed Diane, I do not kill any woman I love. I did not kill Rei. She overdosed, and while I may have through my own foolish insistence to keep using not done anything to stop her, I couldn’t have stopped her from doing that shot because I wasn’t there, any dreams or feelings that I had that, made me think anything other than that, are complete horse shit.

I am telling you this is different. I know this is different. I can feel it. I know this is different, that there is some reason this is different. I have this eerie feeling, that I am supposed to do something to figure this out, that somehow, something about me drew me to Diane and it has something to do with this.

I am okay with being the holder, I like holding. I have become accustomed to dealing with customs. I am okay with hell, I guess, and have become accustomed to the eternal infernal quest of my damned soul running from devils lived and imagined, and real and un-present, but

I resent the presenting of the present eternity. I resent its presence because I am weak and reek of cruelty, and I don’t want to have to ask to be saved, I don’t want to acknowledge I will die, because that means I lived at all, and

If I am honest

Honing street truths to acquire mind altering substances is no way to live, and I judge me, so how can I expect forgiveness for anything? How can I expect forgiveness? You simply ask. I don’t like asking and being told no.

I don’t like waiting for anything. Pride.

Maybe that’s why it is a deadly sin. Maybe that’s why it is to be given up through meditation, maybe that is why it is not practiced by any person who is good. I practice pride every day, in my ripping and tearing and patching consciousness of wash rinse repeat cruelty.

I don’t know how to stop, but I am trying.

Enough of that.

I know I didn’t kill her, but didn’t I? Wasn’t it me who was the goading force behind our illicit glass blowing and sowing? Whether I killed her with knife in hand, or with entry in to a land of sharp objects and cold air…

Does it really matter? Isn’t it the same thing?

I am still wondering what the whole thing means, and it bothers me how much the whole thing looks like a set-up.. Misery… Ms. Re. Re minus the i and the why.. and the y.. I hate scitzophrenia. Spelling, Damien, spelling…

I have been watching him on here, I met him outside my house, he was standing outside talking to himself about not knowing what was going on, I have my ways of calming men like him down. I invited him inside, and he sat on my couch with me, and started crying and laughing at the same time. He was manically speaking like he had been awake for days about about six hundred things at once, I think he was unable at that point to differentiate between regular speech and talking, either that or he didn’t care. It was probably that he didn’t care, the whole thing made me think of a man melting onto the floor, as if someone had poured acid on him.

He is storing this computer and actually himself, in my living room, because I like him, and I am lonely. I don’t think he would remember to come back here if I let him outside. I will be writing with him on this site in place of his ex-girlfriend now. He seems like the kind of man, who can’t handle being alone despite a tendency to kill his lovers.

Yours,

Diane.

I am sorry I keep writing on here, whoever you are, but when I am on here, it feels like I am talking to someone instead of just pacing around this room feeling like I want to rip my skin off. I am really afraid. I hate to admit that, but I don’t like how this feels, and I have nothing to ground me anymore. I am not talking to… I can’t remember her name right now. I don’t think I killed her. I would remember if I killed her. I just forgot about her. I just don’t care anymore. I don’t care about any of this, and I feel like I am a ball in a pin ball machine. My head hurts. I am tired, but I can’t sleep because I am really high, and I don’t know why I keep smoking this stupid shit. I want to go to sleep, but I don’t want to wake up and not know what I did while I was sleeping.

I wish I had a friend. I wish I hadn’t killed my friends. I wish I was a different person.

I found this interesting new spot. I was walking late at night and had glasses on because I have astigmatism. I do not think I mentioned that, I only mention it now because I think that is what caused me to notice the coin. It was a very strange coin, that I had never seen before. I think a street light must have caught it just right to reflect onto my glasses in a way which was disconcerting for a second, and I almost walked into a taxi. The guy was a real asshole about it. I threw something out of my pocket at his car, fuck that is where my phone went. No matter, I will just get another one anyway.

I still have the coin somewhere, the back of the coin appears to be removed, but I am not sure how, and for the life of me I cannot figure out where the coin is from. I do not wish to share details about the exact nature of the coin on this website. I don’t trust whoever is reading this, and something about the coin is making me paranoid. I will share more about this later, maybe. I am doing this mostly for myself anyway, so I have no idea why I am trying to be polite to you.

Damien

I am astounded by how quiet my mind is right now. I can’t believe how much better I feel recently. I did not realize until today, how draining it was to have someone around me every second.

I think there is some sort of strange activity going on in this factory that I have been staying in. I do not have much to occupy my days, which is pleasant.

I have taken up investigating the affairs of those around me. I am enjoying keeping distance between me and others. I see Diane sporadically. I do not want to engage in another misery inducing situation. I do miss Rei at all.

There are many ways to take a human life, there is the very official way, my favorite of killing a person face to face, which offers the most reward because they get to know you did it. I am an idiot and like this, because I like them to know I stole the only thing that mattered from them, and there is nothing they can do about it. I set it up this way, because I am admittedly a coward, and do not want them to steal my life, so I protect myself, by ensuring this won’t happen. I was born with a taste for death that has been with me… since I can remember and struggled with self-hatred my whole life because of it.

I would be looking at someone and watching their every movement, and thinking about how I would kill them if I wanted to. I would plan out every second of it, this is why I have no friends.. other than the ridiculous Rei, who I do not understand at all. She makes no sense. She seems to be two people, one of them like me and the other, kind and gentle. I don’t get it. I don’t have the strength of mind to have two souls. I like both versions of her. She tells me I am the first person who does. I do not know if I believe her. Maybe, she never showed anyone both versions of her. I do not know, and I do not ask.

I am also very uncomfortable knowing much about her former life, because the other men who populated it make me angry. I am going to leave you with that, as I am no longer alone and have to go.

Damien

In lime I combine the sight of divine,

Is it lime or different shade of green

What do I mean?

What color dissolves skin,

In chemicals that make thin

The layers that hide red blood or blue

For this dove that, as she lays in my bed, is her blood still colored red?

Or is it blue, because there she lay, though start not to decay.

In my mind, oh sweet love, sent from Rei of light from above

Who sent me upon thee to consume legs in such glee.

Sincerely Ms. RE

Misery

Misery

Remember me?

Do I speak clearly?