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?

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“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.

This is Rei. I saw there is someone else writing on here now, other than me and Damien. I do not know who it is, and the emphasis remains on my use of the word it, because I know whatever it is, it uses Damien’s hands exclusively to write on here. He won’t talk to me during the periods of time when he does this, and has this vacant look in his eyes, like a person that is taken over by something. I am assuming it is the thing he talks to him in the dark or when I am not there. I haven’t really talked to him about it.

I am okay with what we are doing, we are putting tortured souls out of their misery is my rationalization of the fact that I just want their possessions and some sort of change that spares me a weird sort of misplaced feeling I have always felt, until now. I feel strangely, like I am supposed to be here right now typing to you about this, because I am supposed to do this.

I know that is insane, but this is the first time I have ever felt at home in my life. I don’t know why he doesn’t feel this.