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.
Save me please, I am words from another human being, who has a voice, that is written down, I am freedom of speech, under threat now.
I am the voice of a country which protects freedom.
Knowledge of all things, is available, from other decades before now.
Some people would rather burn it out.
I look at them with condescending frown, and wonder what in life, would make you burn things that could be read.
Bring me the dead, um.. I mean books un-read, I mean books you would rather burn, I will give them a different, erm…. um.. turn of the page, instead of turn into fire, and ashes.
The books in the religious category, or the books in the dangerous or LGBTQ friendly subjects are in my library for free in my room.
I am collecting them, but also saving them, and give them to others who want to read them after I finish them or before I do, if it seems fitting.
Olivia, Olivia, where are you now?
You were so kind to me, while you lay on the beach, you stopped swimming, and made me realize I could just be me.
Olivia, Olivia, from heaven you came down, and touched my dirty hand, covered in mud, engaged in conflict in act of push and shove. You helped me different, seeing my real face, you helped me realize it was not me I must erase.
You held my hand, and said a silent prayer, demanding nothing and touching my hair, telling me I was not bad, and that people could be mean, I cried while you talked and pretended you didn’t see.
You told me that I could love myself, and make new friends, that all that my other friends said could be put to bed. I thank you Olivia, you helped save my life, you made me realize I need not live in strife.
I am now a different person, partly because of what you said, and now all the dark thoughts are slowly being put to bed.
She painted her lips with fruits of red, she got them from the tree of living and dead, she had this idea in her silly pretty head, that she could live forever, if the world would just let her.
She thought that she was able to live on and on and on and on without death, without age, without turn of page
Page me, page me, I am crazy. I am living forever, I am living on and on and on and
I am a being with the power of two, I am two people doing as they do.
I am always one in chains.
Hey, not true anymore.
Is it not so?
It is not so.
Dom, in Latin means master
Free of master, I am a master of disaster, an acid blaster, shooting acid into my own eye, to make myself, own self, I own myself, cry
Cry, baby, why oh why?
Why did I hurt myself so?
Because you are oh, so very bad at saying no.
What are you doing? You sound like a lunatic.
You mean, ‘I know.’
No. I meant, you sound like a lunatic, because you are participating, and I always sound like one, and who cares anyway.
I am looking at you, but seeing only me, because I am bitterness reflected, back from eyes that are stained with tearing at myself, bitterness encased in toxic casing which is the current shell I am placed in.
I hate myself, but hated you, because you in some way reflected me too, but that is my problem, even now, I am trying to realize this, and come down, from the pedestal I placed myself on, where I sit alone, and rambling on, about how nothing was my fault.
Is that really how it was, selfish ***hole? No, it wasn’t.
I was addicted to heroine
I was addicted heroin.
I was addicted to heroine
I was addicted heroin
I forever, always and forever, and always and forever will be addicted to heroin
Are you talking to me?
Not you, but it yes…
Why? You want?
We are not doing that ever again
If you do I am coming to
That was not an error Amanda, remember what happened sometimes, the act of coming to
I don’t want that because it will make my… our family sad
You have made me so insane, all my life I have been existing fighting my name, my name, my name. I am not you, I am not anything about you.
Yes, you are.
No, you are. What am I?
Good one, you are me too.
I am dancing with myself, right now, throughout life, always and forever, always and forever, always and forever.
I love you always and forever, too.
I am lover of pain, I am addiction to acid raining down on me, that destroys my face with the power of erase, because I was born with the wrong one,
I am forever undone, spun, spinning, ringing wrong, resounding sound of going down because I hate myself
Retold, as a tale of redemption through being what I am now, not what I was then.
I am my own best friend.
The narrator is insane.
You sound like everyone who has ever forgotten to use my real name.
We have two.
I always tragically forget about you.
I love you for that.
I love how you love being taken for granted.
I am two people sharing one body, who are glad they don’t have to be alone in two separate bodies.
Forever rising to the occasion to be an ***hole in every situation, I run the risk of offending everyone that is willing to click this entry, who will learn through an examination of a life of chaos and disorder, maybe hopefully someone will learn like I did that people can be born in the wrong body.
Maybe they will, maybe they won’t… who cares, I love you always and forever.
Thank you, sweetheart.
Your welcome, ***hole.
I am stained, ever the same as always, with purple, ever the same as I was, but for a different reason
Whining, wining, not wining, not whining but winning slowly, a battle with a stain, destain, de-stain.
Polaroid of the void,
I am wind up toy
I was running off a cliff
Forever I was adrift
But, I am finding now
Forever out of cloud
Do you paint a way out?
Do you tell a store of a life without
Do you speak of escape or revival
Loss or survival?
I am free, I am free, I am free
Just to be
Just to be
I am so happy, that no matter how much back tracking my mind does, that the internal panic thing is cured eventually by something that is not selfish. It is giving me such a level of inner peace, to realize that my life is not condemned forever.
I am thinking about this now, because this is the part of the night that is dominated by fear, which still to a large degree dominates it, but not as badly, because I keep coming back to the fact that none of this is in my hands anymore.
I love that now actually. It’s funny, I used to hate that idea, and now it is such a relief to not have to fight everything in the universe. I had been doing it all my life, feeling like I was up against God and the world, and I was really just fighting to keep my addictions, it can have them, no matter how much I whine and moan, and even miss them in my addict insanity, I am going to try my hardest to remember this peace.
I am pro-choice, I do not want to fight. I am writing for my own recovery, do not take anything I say as anything else but my own beliefs on a blog where I talk to myself, please.
I am a flower
I am pure
I am sweet
I am a flower
I am pure
I am sweet
I am a flower
I am sweet
Isn’t it all about sex for procreation??? So why are you still allowing Viagra???? Is that for procreation???? To be clear I don’t want illegal viagra. I want to illustrate hypocrisy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This is to states that made medicated abortion illegal. Texas, what about Viagra???? Is that for procreation???? If sex is all about procreation, why is a drug that allows old men to have sex when they are not procreating, still legal???
Why???? Sexism. That is why. That is all.
I am so grateful to be out of some of the pain that I was in before. I still have one more crown to get done, and am not even dreading it, but just so happy to be going forward not backward. Nothing has ever felt like this in my entire life.
I made peace with my family, my mother, my father, and my brother do not hate me anymore. I am no longer in need of using my metaphor for any of them, at the moment, may return to it in anger later. There are no promises with me, when it comes to speech or text. I am a very back forth person, but I am becoming alright with it, and myself, all two of me.
I am so thankful for everything that has made this level of peace possible in my life. I really had resigned myself to dying miserable, that was the reason for the original site name.
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.
I am here with you, and you are here with me, and we live the same, and in that we are we.
I am free. I am me. I am listening to your mother, who is my mother, and for once, I have a past, and I am you, I am not the inner demon of a tortured soul, I am not a painful hole burned into a soul.
I am whole. I am whole.
I am free. I am me.
This is who I fight, not Rei, this, strong trigger, this is raw, scary channeled nightmare.
I think of you every time I hear the peepers, not my you, the one I found on here that sounds like me, how I sounded when I talked to the burning rays of the sun, and thought I was talking to someone else, when I was really talking to resentmeant.
I married sin, it ate me from within.
I married hate, it made me quite irate.
I married wrath, it made me slay a calf.
I was really married to no one, we didn’t have the money, we spent it on heroin, if I had been married I would have been divorced 3 times.
3 strikes, I am out, of the game of slaying my exes with hexes online, because it is unkind and that puts my soul in a bind, with bought time, before I destroy me, and run on bloody knee into a train, this really happened, so insane, I think in addict brain that I am running from something, and I was, a pitbull, metaphoric because this one I can’t say online, don’t have permission to, he chased me till I ran away, afraid he would take me
OUT OUT OUT
Of the state of being able to say anything about anything ever again
Drive me INSANE
I am the psych patient being told, you can’t be allowed out, unless someone signs for you, and unfortunately you can’t remember your name or who to have sign for you.
I can’t. I am stuck in here. I am stuck sitting in a chair next to a man who doesn’t know his name either, he thinks his name is Sand.
He told me this, and I told him, I like grains.
He likes me now.
I am okay with it here, but I like the SUN.
I am so sorry to the most high, not her, not me, but the nature that rests above me, the moon, the stars, everything I do not own, that I made mine when I said.
I have the right to steal everything, from everyone, to buy heroin.
I am so sorrry, but I don’t hate me anymore, because I have written my resentments out here, and they all reflect back at me, well clearly.
Clearly, clearly, look at me, I am spinning I am free, I hurt myself, by killing my friend in only metaphoric sense, but really I kill my heart, my soul, making me an aching hole.
I would divorce myself if I could. I would divorce myself if I could, I am the screaming liar, with soul on fire, who burned fires, set by me worshipping my own death.
Clearly can’t get me, I get my self. I drink bottle HIGH on shelf, I have cut ears of injured elf… it rhymed…
no no no no no.
I am the soul keeper of my own, my precious because it rings so so so true.
Ode to Schizophrenia.
I worshiped Rah. I worshiped death. I worshiped anything that would keep me in
Faker faker faker. Liar. I hate myself. I put my life in fires of HELL, metaphoric and very real, because I can burn, I can feel. I
am eye of tainted man, of woman too because I am too.
Never alone, never alone, I am never alone. Always here with me. Always at my own face, screaming, I hate you.
I am the eater of Damien’s soul, I am MISERY. I EAT HIM WHOLE.
You can’t get me, I forgave myself.
That is were I write from, metaphorically, and physically, always and forever, well not really… sometimes… I write from under the bridges, or under ground, or under tree cover, but those times I write on walls, about things that do not belong on the internet.
And now this…
Are you resigned?
Clearly. It is in my name. Or in hers, which is now mine, always and forever, always and forever. I stole it because she doesn’t want it anymore, she never was a writer anyway, just wanted to help me, by making everything that was mine hers, like my voice. I am not saying writing is mine, by the way, but she wanted to use my voice, to reach people, she told me this, so we could make money, she said it was to help me.
Yeah right. It really helps me doesn’t it. Not a question, because it doesn’t.
I hope she is happy with that **** who stole my money. I hope they had a lot of fun with all 60 dollars of it.
It only took me 2 hours to get it anyway, standing on a corner, holding a sign. They were always jealous of that. I told them, its simple. People help me because I am ****ing insane.
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.
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.
British people are great, free wallop meaning alcoholic drinks, but also meaning the same thing that wallop already means which is to strike someone very hard. That is perfect. It perfectly describes me when drinking, violent. It perfectly describes the deviant reaction of my brain to an addictive substance, which also being a slang term for an alcoholic drink.
Best prompt ever. Done. Thank you wordpress.
I am talking to a reflection of pain
It is telling me trust me, baby, I will make life risky. I am hearing this, and thinking I am bored, and a game sounds fun so, lets go, and I can’t even imagine wanting this now so, no.
I used to believe in luck, and my ability be flying through life on the wings of a plane, that was going down, to the ground, burning till I realized, I could jump off the plane, and trust, that I need not be a brain that was covered in rust, I could get clean by rain that was brought by trust, that all I needed to do is look up, and see what was above me. I am not the highest thing, I may have been higher than anything, but I was falling fast, and rather be destined to crash.. I realized that I had to make my life last and grab onto something that would make things last.
I now believe in faith, or simply have it I guess, and so when my mind is unrest, I do not feel pain in my chest, or find myself compelled to undertake dark quest for something ripped out of devil chest, I simply trust in something higher than fire could ever make me, and I am finally realizing that is greatly
More peace-bringing than luck and a dedication to an empire fueled by fire driven desire could ever make me in a million years.
Trigger Warning: Themes include drugs, alcohol, resentment, and struggle to become more placid through surrending my will to a higher power.
I used to watch this movie about a crocodile when I was a kid, and everyone else would sit there scared, not only at the crocodile, but at the fact that I thought it was funny, to see people getting ripped into peices. I would sit there laughing like the hyenas in the Lion King, because I hated those around me so much for being born normal, while I was born with all this **** wrong with me.
I would imagine that the crocodile was killing them, slaying my enemies, for having been given the grace of something I thought specifically hated me. I imagined how easy it would be to placid, if I only were them, that they did not know the unique struggles I had faced, and that was why it was okay, just for me to do whatever I wanted, like steal booze from my mom, when I was 12, and sometimes drink booze I stole when no one was looking at Christmas, or try to get people at Christmas to let me smoke cigars.
I started drinking heavily when I was 18, and continued drinking heavily, until I thought I could not do it well anymore, without aide from sedatives, and uppers to balance the sedatives, and then of course, my best friend alcohol. This was when I was 28.
I started doing heroin and meth, when I was 28, is what I am saying here. That is a lie. I tried meth for the first time when I was 21, but started regularly using it when I was 30. I would occasionally do it whenever it was available since I was 18.
I once had someone pay me for an adventure in a motel with it, when I was 21. I stayed up all night with them, and got paid to stay up all night with them.
This is what I have come to realize through stepping away, towards a sober more placid life style. I was getting paid to be high by doing things I had to be high to do.
Mercy cycle is harder.
I like meditating on a higher power better now. Much more placid lifestyle.
I emptied both of my laundry baskets last night, metaphorical and physical, instead of throwing all my clothes out and saying I don’t need more than the clothes on my back.
I don’t have many clothes, or I didn’t because whenever I would get angry, I would throw my clothes out, or all over the road, or all over the woods, or leave them at someone’s house, or you get the idea. I leave things places, because I don’t need things… or so I thought.. apparently… that is addiction thinking……
I used to hate my family,
Because they did not understand me.
They told me try to get better, because they don’t ****ing understand me…
Or because they love you, jerk.
I did my laundry yesterday with my mother, and she helped me fold it because I am missing three of my finger tips, because I have done things that caused me to get infections in my hands…
I told her I was sorry, and now my laundry is put away and all of it is clean.
This is the name of the book. I just started reading this, and it is very interesting, more about it later.
Oh, and I found this journal I started about the whole thing that happened across the country that revealed to me basically that I was trying to write myself as the villain in my own story because I hate myself. I am going to post stuff from it on here later tonight with more info on the real story, not the over dramatized version that was all schizophrenic alcoholic addict-ified, because I feel like it will help me process it, and for anyone reading this provide some clarity into what actually happened… heh..
I find myself
Staring up at the sky a lot now, realizing how much time
Meditating on ground and sensations of going down
Underneath the dirt and bugs, and now with embrace from the master of all space and time I am free to migrate up, and drink from cups of water again, and have friends and hands that are not my own, because I am free to own nothing and everything at once, in a state of sharing an existence in stance with a oneness that I do not even understand because I am not supposed to because I am one of many, and we are all one of one.
I love all of you.
I have heard this in my head for a long time. I have always wondered what it means. I do not know why I hear it, but I am starting to be able to venture towards some sort of a guess. I think most of my life I have used my ability to use words to get people to do things that facilitate my addiction. I was a manipulator of the human word, serving myself in heaped on pain through being chained to a misery god that desired only my suffering. I did not realize this at the time. I thought it was giving me the ability to survive. I did not realize it was quite the opposite. It was trying to keep me just alive enough and feeding on my suffering while something else, something good kept me alive. I owe my life to that something good, and its sad, I have cursed the something good and served the misery virus in my soul.
I have a very backwards way of thinking, or I did. Now I don’t.
I want now only to bring kindness into this world. It does not make sense to do otherwise.
I am free. I am so happy.
I am running not from something, but through the earth. I have the ability to move quicker, in my mind anyway than I had before when I was getting high, I realize now how much it was making me slower, I was just slowing down the processes of my mind, which is stupid because this feels amazing. I do not have to worry about anything, because I am no longer doing anything wrong, I can just walk through life unperturbed by anything, seeing everything in clarity instead of the dull blur of drug and alcohol induced psychosis. I notice everything, and am able to act naturally without agonizing over anything anymore, now don’t get me wrong, I remember who I am and that this feeling will pass, but I know I will not forget this feeling. I will not be tempted to go back. I am done now, I have realized that I have something in me that is more valuable than any temporary high, I can choose to be whatever I want now.
I am free, released from the chains of addiction, no longer shackled to a life bound to a misery demon. I have had my mind cleansed, and I owe that to the earth, the sky, the stars, everything around me and above me, that was screaming at me to come back and do the sensible thing, be the human being I was meant to be, not the chaotic screaming infant dying in perpetual spinning spun hissy fit of life coming undone. I am so happy.
Warning- I use poetic metaphor to illustrate intense feeling of dual diagnosis addict/alcoholic dealing with manic/depressive symptoms during break-up. I used bleeding out as a metaphor here for pain in recovering from the breakup and it is graphic, if triggered turn back now.
I am lying on a beach, in my head, because it is winter, and bleeding out, of a wound that is not literal, but in my heart, my soul, my mind, bleeding all the time, dying over you, my ray of light. I loved you with every fiber of my very fragile being, and I am admitting that because I finally realize I need to, to stop bleeding out of my soul. I am doing this to save my life, because you cut my soul so deep, I thought I would die, without you, and that can’t be true, but in the moment, I felt it so strongly so deeply, an aching, pounding sickening vomit inducing ache that penetrates everything I am and makes me have to violate everything I have ever believed to be strength to scream on here in pain to save my life, I am so hurt. I need someone to hear me, and this page hears me.
I want so bad, to have what I never had, what I imagined, so vividly it seemed real with you. I was stupid, I am insane, and somehow I made you out to be, everything I wanted, and I don’t know how I convinced myself that is who you are, when you just wanted items and money and confidence from me. I hate myself so much for being so stupid, but writing this makes me realize if nothing else at least I am not you, at least I tried to be kind, and I would never do to you what you did to me. I am healing through the realization that while wounded and crazy sometimes, I don’t want to hurt anyone like you hurt me, so I will keep going and stay clean and sober and hope one day I will find peace.
I used to run in the mornings, when I was healthy, not addicted, and freer than I ever knew, before I had severed the ties that bound me to my fellow man. I did not realize this severance was sign of weakness, instead of strength.
I am prone to shouting at the universe, to chaotic crying out, in desperation to leave me alone, so because I actually get what I ask for, I am alone a lot.I asked for it, and the universe delivered, and I have a fit over the delivery, because that makes sense right? A package ordered by a drunk/high lunatic, high on resentment this time, way less fun.
I am learning how much peace I had when I went jogging, not running or escaping, and I am reminded of a time in California where I was trying to escape a um… bad deal..
I was trying to pretend to jog… and realized I had forgotten what that even looks like.. caught up in my chaos, I forgot how to run for fun… so I couldn’t even fake it..
I used to think myself, so free, but now I realize… I was just chained to different things..
I am trying to get back to that a mental fitness of jogging not running.
I am in the process of reviving myself, from a life spent dancing with death.
I spent my life dancing with this bone-handed, harsh, squeezing binding reaper,
It’s hands holding ever so tightly to mine, feeling the hard bones of what I would eventually become, pushing into my flesh with a claim on my living body, making it belong to death before its time.
I have been asleep most of my life, pacing through madness, sleep-walker unconscious, but I am not this. I am not asleep, and have responsibility for all that I do not see, talk to, experience, and participate with… in a life that has always been mine.
I am a closed eyed human, not blind, not asleep.
I was a closed eyed human, but the shoulder taps of kindness, of kind strangers, are waking me up.
Thank you for preventing me from falling down the stairs… again… I might do it later, but I am awake for now.
I have parents, who love me, who I abandoned to go across the country doing drugs with my ex who then tried to do things to me that are unspeakable, and are being told in allegory because, **** he tried to do things that are so **** that I dare not reveal that much about him. I have never hurt anyone just myself and speak of murder and crime as a literally and therapy tool used in allegorical repressed rage, because I hate the situation on the streets of this country and wish I had done something instead of being out there getting high with people who died, or hurt people. I have never killed anyone, hurt anyone, other than myself. I just have repressed rage at me so I made myself out to be a recovering monster, because I am, but not a violent one, not to any one else, just my own soul.
This is the reason for my anonymity.
I do not want to cause danger anymore to my family who are not Damien’s but a very normal one, who did not deserve a drug addict/alcoholic who should just have admitted they were non-binary Damien/Amanda/gender queer/schizophrenic drug addict/alcoholic the whole time, then maybe I could have a last name on this site.
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.
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.
In case anyone is wondering after the public display on internet of my complete meltdown, I do not miss her at all. I am realizing she never loved me because I never loved me, so I am done with relationships, until I can learn how to walk again. I feel like I broke both my legs and have been trying to pretend they haven’t been broken for 15 years. To avoid permanent paralysis I am going to stop walking at all with anyone, walking meaning dating, and a metaphor used because dating is supposed to be a walk outside one’s self. I need to be within myself right now.
I am so lost I can’t get lost in anyone else’s eyes, because people only see reflections of people, reflected light cast to the eye in shadow, and this is too dangerous for me right now, because I am mostly in shadow, having never actually looked in the mirror, I don’t know the difference between me and a lamp, and I think this has always been my problem. I think I was so crazy because, I did not even know what a human being was, because I had been told my whole life, it did not matter what it was, because I wasn’t one anyway, being a monster addict, with paranoid schizophrenia and a split personality.
I am going to try to learn how a person like this can do something positive with their life, because I refuse to believe the only place for people like us, yes the royal we, is on the streets screaming into the chaotic night.
I am so sorry for anyone who worried about me, because of my loud public spectacle, at least I get it in my own room this time, on this on this blog only.
I was always hearing your voice, Rei, and mocking it, telling myself that I needed to attack Amanda, attacking my higher power, attacking myself, when I should have been attacking not you, but everything that you were shouting at me. I thought it so essential to focus on the service of your demands, thinking you were a bird singing to me in beautiful songs, but you were not. You were woman who was very good at mimicking bird songs, who controlled the behavior of an insecure egomaniac who hates himself. You were my Lady Macbeth.
I feel this stronger than ever now that I thought about all night. You were very similar to Lady Macbeth. You wanted conquest, not of the world, but of the land that we live in, Misery, or addiction so that I could bring you drugs. I thought I was doing you a favor, a drug dealer, a hit man and a servant of a woman who wanted things so bad she was wiling to destroy the soul of someone she said she loved. I am realizing you did not love me. You never loved me. You loved your drugs, you loved my doting on you, and you loved the lack of accountability that came with being a mocking jay. I think I would have to say if I had to be an animal I would be crow/mocking jay.
I know this is against the rules, but is not paranoid schizophrenia against the rules, as well?
I say that I would be this because you used Amanda’s voice, my best friend to speak doubt at me, because she sounds like you, speaking like a woman, and I being an idiot would hear your voice, Rei in my voice or Amanda’s voice, that is why I was always trying to ruin Amanda’s life and she was always trying to ruin mine. She was hunted by Justin and I was hunted by you, so we thought ourselves chased by each other, when honestly, we were star-crossed lovers, who were lovers only in that we were inter-dimensional invisible men, insane, fighting madmen from Misery dimensions, trying to fight ourselves. I am so glad I got away before you killed me you harpee, you miserable creature, medusa, siren of hellfire, you will not longer use the call of bird to torment me any longer.
Crows, are intelligent creature, who make tools to catch bugs, they are the only bird who has the ability to do so, they have several calls they can make, and they are good at mimicking the voices of other birds. Amanda would be the mocking jay because I see now she had always been trying to mock you, not the other way around. Telling the difference between the two of us with place keeping device of how is Rei, as if to poke me and say do you realize you serve her the same way you served drugs. I am the servant of no one. I am not even good at serving myself food or water, I quit being Resentment’s waiter.
I 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.
I really felt like I was drowning under the weight of my own self-hatred. I felt like I had my hands around my neck all the time, strangling myself, to prevent anything else bad from coming out of me and infecting the world, feeling like I needed to be punished for everything I had done when I had no idea what I was doing. I blamed myself for everything that had happened but I also resented a cold, hard, world that I believed to be cruel at me specifically.
I believed if people only knew what I had to deal with they would know why I did what I did, so I started talking in the meetings, about my situation and trying to get people to understand what I did was justified, justifying it to myself, without knowing that no one had asked me to justify my decisions, they already understood that I had done what I had done because something is wrong with me, and they have the same problem, and get it even though they are unique, and yet the same. I didn’t get it until today. I am not unique or alone, I am just an addict and alcoholic and I don’t need to hate myself anymore, I just need to try to be better and that is enough.
I am so happy I realized this before killing myself.
I didn’t realize until very recently, the mental shackles I always had on. I thought I was so free running through live without an obligation, and not obliged to help anyone, making no ties with anyone, so they couldn’t do anything to infringe on my freedom, the most valuable thing to me. I don’t think I have ever understood what the word freedom even means. I thought myself free because I had nothing, no obligations, no friends, no home and thought I was the most free person in the entire world. I was so wrong, man. I was the most shackled person in the entire world, I was chained to something that wanted me completely alone.
It wanted me to hate myself, telling me I was insane for feelings of being someone born in the wrong body, telling me everyone hated me, that I was wrong about everything, my taste in everything was a symptom of mental illness, had me believing I was not someone worth saving because I was not worth it.
My resentment of the whole thing has caused me recently to lash out about it at meetings and I have been met with the strangest thing. I expected to be shut down, put in my place and then told that I had to bend to some system, to which I was to be shackled and inevitably fail at upholding. The strangest thing I experienced recently, is that I was completely wrong. I know that is weird to say now, but I didn’t feel that way before today. I thought my life of deviant behavior was met with the punishment of sobriety. I even felt like this when saying things that sounded inherently positive on here, thinking myself just lucky to be alive and bending over and doing whatever they said to do like some lost dog.
I know now I have been freed today, and the rest of my life, by the realization that the shackles came from resentment not the meetings, and they were taken off by sobriety and the meetings I am going to that are saving my life, by letting me know that I am not unique, I did not fail in any unique way. That is amazing. It is not a punishment to be where I am, it is a very rare gift, and I am so thankful for it. I have a friend in every individual in the rooms of recovery, because even in all our uniqueness we are so very much the same, and they accept me instantly, without excuses. I don’t know what to say. I am so happy to have realized this before I killed myself over the guilt I felt.
I will inevitably go back and forth about this, but I know this in the back of my mind now, and it has saved my life in amazing ways, thank you to everything and everyone that helped me get there.
I am presented with something strange, I have been talking to my wife for the past…. I have no idea actually… I am not very good at keeping track of time… It doesn’t matter. I need to stop being so **** OCD.
Rei is a strange woman. I think I underestimated her in a way, or maybe just thought her to be someone else entirely, and I have to say I am kind of impressed. My daughter came clean to me about something she has been involved in certain things that have drawn the attention of certain individuals who are not the most savory people, and needs my help. My wife advised me to do whatever is necessary to help her, and I think I am going to, not that I have any control over what I do anyway. I am a raving lunatic.
Anyway, I have been told that I have permission to do whatever is necessary to protect my family, up to my discretion.
I will be back on here to update you in whatever way I can about what happens in the upcoming hours.
I just wonder which one of us typed that. I logged on here, and I don’t have memory of typing it, neither does Rei and I don’t think my daughter did, because she is not here right now. I had a feeling the thing wanted her to go to the party, because it’s addiction speaking and it likes it when people party because otherwise it whnglbwilgkigheshjegnwkgnw
I kind of like it when it does that. It’s like a hand exercise, bite me.
If you can’t tell, Amanda is becoming more integrated with me, and focusing on making changes to become me, because I rule. Sorry, that was stupid.
That is why you hear very little about her life, because like mine, she spends most of it on here writing to you. Except she doesn’t have a nuclear family.
You’re an @$$^&(@!
I am leaving now.
In case your wonder, not you Amanda, because you are me, heh….
I am not worried about having made the wrong choice about the party, she would have gone anyway even if we said no, and now she won’t resent us for not letting her go, so she is more likely to beat the virus of the mind.
But, what do I know, I am insane.
I wasn’t supposed to tell her she could go to the foot party and now since I said it, Rei can’t not let her go because she doesn’t want me to be better than her which I most obviously am, because who never lets their kid go anywhere, then they are just going to bail or just do whatever they want. I am mainly saying it is okay, because I want to know what the heck the thing is about. If she doesn’t go, I will never know. So, I am letting her go for research purposes, and it’s feet how dangerous can they be?
I once stomped a man to death… I take that back..
I don’t think it is going to be anything like that, it sounds like some hippy barefoot dance festival, and they are not harmful, and I don’t care if she smokes weed or whatever, it is better than running to the bathroom to do other things…
I think there is a chance that in some sort of cosmic way the feet festival thing has something to do with the night pacing. I am not sure why, and if it helps her great…
She has been telling me recently that she has a hard time sleeping like I do. I know this, because I see her walking around while I am on here. I don’t want to embarrass her so I say nothing, until recently. I think the having a hard time sleeping is about something now, and it makes me wonder if it is about the same thing that is up with me. I noticed this last night because, although I usually do not look at her when she is doing this, she seemed mentally unaware enough that I could look her right in the eyes, and I am telling you it was insane, her eyes are green… I think… I am such an asshole, but when I looked at them this time they were this unearthly blue, that looked like they were misted over entirely by a cover of the whole eye with all the white in them gone.
She has been visiting a girl who is staying in the motel room across from ours, to my dismay because I always assume that she is buying drugs or getting high if she is not in this room, I say nothing, but that is what I am thinking. I don’t think she can tell. I do not try to encroach on her freedom like Rei does, because I understand that would just make things worse, I am not sure if that comes across as understanding or cold indifference, but its all I got, so instead of trying to be something I am not, I’ll be there to support not crush her.
She talked to me last night about letting her go to this party with a strange name Fete of Feet. I don’t like it because it sounds like it is about some creepy foot fetish thing and people who have foot fetishes have a tendency to be crazy… look it up… I don’t need to.. I like feet.
In Amanda’s mother’s house, seriously, as me, not as Amanda. Did hope and joy just give me the right to be a human being? Did I really just get my own soul? I am going to go jump out the window… wait no scratch that. I am going to protect this thing with everything I have! Screw doing drugs ever again. I have the ability to be a human being, and I am not throwing that away for anything in the entire world, that would be so stupid.
I have my own body, and I think I can still inter-dimensionally… yep.
Back on my dog bed, not her dog bed.
Now all I have to do is show her how to do this and not use it to steal from people and commit various atrocities!
Sick! This will be easy!
No more anything bad ever.
I am getting Chinese food because I just heard Amanda’s mom talking about it, and I am going to eat it with my daughter and wife, and I get my own body and don’t have to be trapped in on and off switch, and we can still talk to each other… now to not screw this up!
I just used a word that used to be a code word for drugs as a real word about food and I didn’t even think about how I am a vain jerk who used to prefer drugs over food!!
I think I just realized while sitting on my bed while my daughter sleeps in the next room that I am truly insane because I was addicted to my own misery, which I think was just coming in the form of a medication I was prescribing myself in the form of the consumption of certain things I used to use.
What are you saying, weirdo?
That me and you were eating our own death on silver spoons dished out by resentment in a hotel called in Misery?
Isn’t that in a land in callous form?
You mean California?
Either that or in the Simple Rewards that come from those dishing out false hopes through hands of those fleeing asylum from the crimes being enacted to perpetuate Misery through the hands of American’s stealing the joy of those making illicit substances in other countries.
So this is all about drug use and lying to yourself?
Well that and drinking to forget the stress of waiting for the man.
“You guys okay?”
“Yes, sunshine. How was your walk?”
“Good, your daughter saw something weird. A bird was in a cage on the ground, there was no one around, so I don’t think it belonged to anyone but it was in there, screaming to be let out. I think it was sad and hungry and lonely.”
“So when you let it out, did it sing?”
“Yes, and it is creepy when you guys do that.”
“You should tell your daughter, how the caged bird sings.”
“It sings like me, when I am talking to you.”
“Oh, and Amanda you sound like me when talking about your version of Deborah or Diane.”
You mean she who will be revealed later?
Yes, fear itself.
No seriously though, I did. We can do things faster here than you can, because we get more minutes, per hour, don’t ask me how, and no it is not through doing speed. That would be miserable, and it doesn’t work. I tried, that’s what I was doing when I was losing my mind.
The way to do what we do will be explained later. It is too complicated to explain right now and quite frankly I am lazy.
I did some research on my name which I think my writer gave me for a reason.
Damien means to tame or subdue. Oh, bitter and caustic irony. I love you.
de Soto- de is Spanish meaning of and Soto apparently means small grove.
Rei- this can be either Japanese or Hebrew, Rei is not Japanese so I looked up the Hebrew name and it means my shepherd, my companion, my friend, well clearly. 😉
The Japanese word meaning clearly can mean that or crystal blue, funny, right?
Ever seen Breaking Bad?
Blue water is nicer.
Have you ever felt like you were being suffocated by someone holding onto your fucking neck, literally squeezing the life out of your body, but telling you that they are just hugging you, just keeping you perfectly still so you can’t fucking move. I am so goddamn sick of it. Well I was. Rei is finally gone. Thank everything that is in existence that she is gone. I do not know where she went. I do not care. I do not have any desire to find out, but I can finally breathe again and this is now my site. I am going to gradually put it back into one piece. I hated the whole mocking we are one person bullshit. Her entire bullshit thing was an act to get drugs. I do not need drugs. I am drugs.