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.
She was kissed by sun, and tattooed by shade, her skin bathed in light, and graced by its going away, she was covered with mist in times of rain, never feeling human pain.
I danced with her once, under the moon, her face made me cry, her love a monsoon, the deepness of her eyes, feeling like madness, bringing out my inner sadness, like caverns to the soul, her eyes were so deep, staring into your face, baby, made me weep.
I loved her for a minute, a second, but then, I was thrown back to the shore, by the wave of defense.
I was so glad to meet you.
I will not write ya, other than sarcastically.
I am aside, because I hide behind narcissism, a deadly schizm, made by fear, I am not able to hear anything critical at all, I will cut my ****ing ears off…
I hate myself enough…
What happened to you that day, when I didn’t care enough to come find you in New York, I was your phone a friend, and I am afraid, always, when I think of you, that you went back home, because of me, because I didn’t care.
We were each others only friends, for a time, albeit short, like my other friends
INABILITY TO MAINTAIN LONG-TERM RELATIONSHIPS
That goes for you too, ****.
I wasn’t the one talking.
I re-colored and re-drew you with another human being colored in grey and white, like the reason we would fight, or my lack of light… You are no longer around me, I miss you sometimes, but sleep soundly, knowing it was you who was insane, not me plagued with brain drain, although that is true as well, could not live with you in Hell, which is why you wanted me to begin with……..
Tell me baby, what you wanted, in a voice not so haunted, by all the guys that ever hurt you, because no matter what you say, sorry baby, can’t be the girl you craved, and I wonder now if that was the problem, so maybe I could not have solved it, because in every way, every single one, you were one of the only ones who I do not much negative to say about……..
Glamourized insanity, painted over with pure vanity, in colors holographic, like the daggers that you stab with, cutting below, at my rib and going slow, you are everything you said you were not, hate so cold, and love so not existant at all, like an icy barbie doll, not capable of love, because you were
I don’t remember really.
I think that was the biggest dig at my non-existant self-pride I have gotten all day……..
Yeah……I feel the same way……
I don’t even have anything to say, see the above… **** this…
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.
You were not who I painted you out to be, obviously, clearly, painted, seen through tainted lens, made obvious to everyone but me.
Lens painted by lack of clarity.
The real story is that you did not trust me. You were up my ***, confidence in me, rusted, by lack of knowledge of what I was like, which was fair, heroin addict, addicted to strife.
I forgot what it was like to be you, was unable to lift myself out of my lack of shoes.
I forgot what you had done because I hated myself.
Forgot how you had found me
Forgot who I used to be
Forgot the pulling, and the lifting from the street……
I am so sorry……….
I hate admitting that you helped me……….
I hate admitting that I failed…
I hate admitting that I needed anyone at all……….
I hate admitting that I couldn’t do ANYTHING on my own………….
I still resent myself for being an addict
I still resent myself for being an alcoholic
I am working on this
But I know now
I love you for what you did for me
I am so sorry for what I did all these years to you
You are also not who I painted you to be
That was a reflection of my own weakness
And unwillingness to accept that I can’t handle my own ****
I used to have this hate for this one cat, that poops in the bedroom I sleep in, that is not mine, so I had no right to be mad at the cat, but I used to think he was doing it to me or at me, because I am ****ing insane and everything is at me or to me.
I now remember something hilarious.
I have vomitted in almost every state in the US, in front of people in broad day light, when I was homeless we used the whole world as our toilet because we did not have inside bathrooms.
I am literally this cat, and have metaphorically done what he is doing, I just have to clean it up because I am metaphorically cleaning up the bed I made.
I am sorry, I am insane, I am in pain, I am acid rain, I am soul disdain of my own making and continuous breaking, taking liberties.
I once told someone something very strange. They were complaining to me about their ex ALL THE TIME…..
Yeah, just realized that too..
I am sorry by the way, to anyone reading this, who still hasn’t decided to not read it, because you can, because I am annoying.
Why do they need your permission?
This post is now about something else. Moving on.
There is someone there, who has bad intentions, because they are simply there, and everyone has bad intentions.
There is someone there, and I don’t like them, because they have bad intentions, because everyone has bad intentions.
I am afraid of myself.
I am afraid of being back in padded rooms, which I have been in before.
I am afraid that whenever you help me, it is one step away from the constraints on my arms to help myself.
Control myself, accept the things I can’t change…
I ruined my own life, and I am trying to fix it, and people are trying to help me, stop ripping their heads off with words.
I think everyone is out to get me, because I am an idiot, or that is what it feels like sometimes… both of those things alternating not simultaneous, never simultaneous, unfortunately…. not yet at least. I can never remember when under insane delusion, that I am prone to insane delusions and that as much as it seems like people are out to get me…. just realized why my ex’s hated that wording… they are not out to get me..
That kind of sucks.. because now I have to admit I was ***hole fighting the universe my whole life. I did the right thing and apologized, and it was very humiliating.
I am still so afraid of jumping off a cliff, and saying to something I don’t know that I completely trust it, my own inner darkness, fear resentment, paints my every movement, with the dark shadows that haunt my nightmares, why I don’t know, I am riddled with the questioning that comes from hating my own self, because I can’t completely trust things..
I am so afraid of you.
I know you say you love me
I don’t understand how you could know that
I don’t understand it, at all
I don’t get why something so good would make something so bad
I know all I am is an addict, but that is worse because I am the most selfish person I know.
I don’t get you.
I don’t understand why anything would make me, I am awful.
I believe you did, I just don’t get why.
If nothing else, I at least admit now, I suck at this, please guide my hands.
I am green with envy
I am green with sickness
I am green
I am mean
I am coming undone
I am no fun
I am sickness
I am addict.
I relate humility and humiliation, a lot because I always did. The root words are similar, and for me, until today actually they appeared to be the same thing, forced bowing, like someone had conquered me, or something… the spirit of the Spanish Conquerer, someone said something to me about my name and that. It hurt… but so does someone saying I have brown eyes, because everything hurts my feelings.
I was listening to someone say that I have to do a fearless moral inventory, and the thing is… I don’t know what the **** that even means because for me morality has always been enforced with fear, Spanish Catholic superstition.
It is funny, I was cleaning with Diane when the spider incident happened, and she got mad, and I think it was partly because she believed the spider to not be real, and even if it wasn’t what different does it make? I saw it, so even if it was unreal or real, is it any more okay or not okay if it is or isnt? I made a loud sound because I was genuinely afraid in that moment, of something I thought I saw.
Ow, you bite me, so I hate you.
You are not a flower, but a tragic reminder, of how much, I said I wasn’t going to do this anymore.
Remember, Ms. Re. I said when I started this, which I did, that this was going to be about the power of memory to harm the human soul, a resentment journal, illustrated by the decay of a human soul, mine, an illustration of the decay of a human soul, mine.
I realize now, how insane that is.
Do you see me in black and white?
Were you really?
Yes, I was.
Then why are you writing this?
Because I was wrong, and I want to prove to myself I was right.
You were right about me, I was, angry, and am still that you told everyone something that was true, I am a drug addict, and I behaved like one, because I am one, and you said this before I said it, and then I behaved like one because you said it, to prove you wrong, and proved you right.
I am sin, I am sin, let me in, let me in, I will knock down your doors, I will eat at your floors, I am corrosive, I am erasing, I am maddening and saddening, I am resigned to be lurking in the minds of the damned man, who sadly
CAN’T STAND ON HIS OWN TWO FEET
Isn’t it neat? Isn’t it fine? The decline of the decaying mind? It i is great, isn’t it?
No. You are wrong, death’s song, playing on and on, and on and on, ryhming madness, soul sadness, see you caught me doing it.
But, this is ****, this is stupid, I don’t want to listen to you anymore.
I am not quite sure if “normal” people worry as much as I do, or even if other addicts or other mentally ill people do, I worry every second I am awake, but I hate sleep because I am afraid of death, I didn’t know that, and just figured it out writing this. That is a lot of why I am doing this, I wanted to know who I even was. I was so caught up in defending myself against the attacks of my exes, I forgot who I even was, or maybe was never anyone to begin with. I have never been alone for longer than a month, always partners in crime with another drinker/user and always co-dependent on that person vice versa, we always existed in a symbiotic way, fueling eachother’s addiction. The worst was with Rei/Justin. The entire relationship centered around drugs, at least for me, I think they hate me as much as they do because of that, because at one point they really loved me, and the more that I think about it, while I emulated love… I never loved them as much as I loved the person I left to be with them, whose name I won’t say online because she asked me not to.
I am still partially in love with her as well, but she is still using, and I am so done, and she is done with me. She was always able to pay for her habits legally, she has her ways, and didn’t like my less conventional ways, so when she would kick me out I would go get high with Rei, and one day we decided to go to Cali together.
All the music I post on this site is thanks to my ex, the one before Rei. I loved her, stil do so much. She is the most beautiful person I ever met in my whole life, and she doesn’t even know it.
Rei was just as self involved as I am, which was great at first, because it made me feel better, but we were always ego sparing, except she was not willing to walk away at first, I am.
I always was, and it drove her nuts.
I miss California a lot, which is pathetic because what I am saying is I miss my lifestyle in California, I have an adrenaline issue, without something causing adrenaline release , I create problems on purpose to cause adrenaline release, another thing Rei/Justin hated and my other ex loved.
We used to throw glass bottles against our doors at our house, just to have something to clean when we were bored, and wanted to get rid of them before anyone saw them. Oh my god, I miss her.
When I say I miss California what I am really saying is I miss living on the streets and not caring about anything, because I am weak and this is hard.
Even if you don’t believe what I believe, the whole God or god thing, what I will say is this.. for me the reason it helps me is because in the Christian tradition the use of the character or real person Jesus, makes it possible for me to meditate on the idea of someone doing the right thing no matter what when faced with adversity, which is the opposite of what I do, and as much as I say I don’t care, that is the source of all my self-hatred the fact that I know what I should do, and do what I want anyway. That is one of the driving forces behind why I am doing any of this, I got tired of justifying being a bad person. I thought it might be simpler to just do the right thing.
I was always arguing with my higher power about if they only knew they would have done it my way, until it hit me that if I believe what I believe, and I do, then they know what to do because the outcomes have been weighed and the right thing produces the most desirable consequences.
That really bugs me out, and made me have a hissy fit about it, about the lack of the point of everything for decades. I figured that one out at 8. I almost died during nuerosurgery at 8, and grapled with the meaning of life from then onward.
I am tired of myself.
I was happy with her, with a different girl, she accepted me, she was the same as I was…. we both had paranoid schizophrenia. I loved her truly and deeply, I was just insanely ****ing stupid, and got pissed one day because she ripped me off…and that obviously matters more than anything right? Stupid…….. I left and went over to Rei’s or whatever she calls herself…….
I left because she offered to get high with me…****ing great reason… to leave someone right? Some else has free ****. I didn’t want to admit this to myself… that it was all about that. We had two dogs. I left my dog and my girlfriend for another person who said they had always loved me, but more importantly offered to help me on a day when my ex had ripped me off. So I slept with someone else because they gave me free ****. So I deserve this… I deserve her leaving me for someone else, because I did the same thing.
That is what made me turn my **** around. I am out. I am disgusted with myself, with my choices, my life and everything I did to myself and those around me. She even offered to take me back, and Rei offered me **** to stay. So I stayed, like a dog, then we ripped off every single one of our friends and left the area and lived on the streets for 4 years until we almost died out there of freezing to death, and I will leave the rest of that one for later.
I am so tired of the whole thing. I am finding peace in being away from all of this, I think it is ironic that a drug named for a misspelling female hero makes people the opposite of heroic. I am such a piece of ****.
I am looking at you, and wonder how you do that?
That standing upside down thing? That standing inverted thing?
How did you make the world flip over?
I don’t get it…
Please come closer..
I also would like to know…
Why my legs hurt and feel like they may go
Out from under me….
I can see you know by your grimace…
You seem to know something I do not…
Now please tell me….
My face is hot with…
I can’t feel…
Let go, your hanging upside down from a tree. The ground is right below you, let go, and it will catch you, you can even touch it, just open your eyes, you have your eyes shut, you are seeing things not there, your eyes are shut, open them, and get down from hanging upside down.
I am Swiss cheese…..
Except I am not Swiss, and not cheese…
Just a real person… or
Full of metaphysical holes in my
Self or the idea of everything I am.
I dug them myself because she told me she would help me, and I am stupid and gullible and believed her/him when he/she told me she loved me. I don’t know why that gives her/him the right to put holes in me.. okay? I don’t even know what love is, and no one had ever told me they loved me, not like that… so I listened to everything he/she said…. I would have jumped off a….Not really…. I would have done almost anything they asked me to, even if it hurt me, and he/she used that to make me do whatever they wanted on a mission for drugs,
And it was so obvious to everyone except me, even those who hated me, would tell me
You realize you are just her source right?
I was just her source of elation and she was everything to me.
I want to….
I could cry, if I wasn’t so numb because my soul hurts.
Please God, can I find something real, please God, please God,,, I don’t want to be alone…I am so sorry for everything I did.. please don’t…. I don’t want to be alone anymore…
Writing that really helped me. The last part, which means prayer just helped me. Thank you to my higher power, I am not crying anymore, numb. sad. but stopped crying.
Re-vision- Soul re-stitching, threads of misery replaced with kindness.
I used to lie, cheat, and steal
In Misery, only would I deal.
Suffering was my main course meal.
I did not eat, I lived on the street, and in pain and suffering I did deal.
I was a cheater, a liar, a thief, if you met me I would make sure you fell beneath…
Me in every endeavor thinking, I was so clever, but really only
Now, I am trying to be different.
ER ER ER __________________________________________________
ER ER ER _________________________________________
I love those around me, it makes me uncomfortable and I use horror to deal with it, because it scares people and makes me feel better because
STAY AWAY I AM SENSITIVE LIAR LIAR
Who do you think you are?
An addict trying to redeem themselves.
NO ONE CARES.
I do, so I am posting this.
My dog left me, she stayed with my ex, not my last ex, but the one before. She had a sister, and they never had been separated, so I let my ex not the last one, but the other one. The one before.
I tell myself she left me, forgetting the drive to drop her off at my ex’s house, and how dogs can’t drive, but neither can I. I did not choose that and neither did she. She was too wild and free for where I stay currently, and it is metaphoric in a way my choice to stay away, chained as I was to addiction, locking myself in a metaphoric hotel that represented the real hell of once being in a real hotel with the devil who is really my ex-boyfriend who wanted me to be everything I was not so much so, I realized everything I was not.
The dog who sits next to me now, knows all this, somehow or I feel she does. I came here, and was initially… I am ashamed to say bothered by her.. a tragic reminder of what I lost, as if it was something I owned.
I own no dog, but no one ever does, and the souls of the dogs of this world are very much the same in all their subtle differences, radiating love, unable to be felt by human beings because of their innate trust that only goes away if you are bad to them.
Reflecting on this makes me realize I did the right thing for you, my dear Fiona, and I love my mother’s dog the same way now that I still love you.
I went to the doctor and got the rest of my shots, hep a and b and am still taking my meds for staph infection, I am going to make a psych doctor appointment and get the rest of my health things in order, I have to see a nuerologist, because I have not done that since California. I am feeling so much better since I started living in reality, and not projecting my life into some strange fantasy where I feel so guilty about being a drug addict that I equate it to actually being the one responsible for hurting anyone. I did not realize till recently, how sad and messed up that is, and how it has ruined so many things for me, by my own self sabotage. I think I felt like being some violent social deviant was some how better than saying I was who I was because it made me feel like I had control over my life.
I have control over my life now without having to pretend I was hurting anyone. I was only hurting myself by putting all of that, the weight of all of that on my own shoulders, and making myself out to be some social deviant when I was just a sad addict who couldn’t handle admitting mistakes made because I felt that saying I messed up made me weak. Hurting people would not have made me strong. I am stronger admitting weakness, than living in some sick twisted Misery world where I hurt unsuspecting people who had nothing to do with my inability to accept myself.
I love all you guys who helped me see this. I am so sorry for anything I said out of lack of knowledge about what was really going on with me. I am trying to be better.
I run from an eight ball, or a ball of drugs on a pool table, that is also symbolic for how afraid I am of myself, that I sought death and intoxication above being ****ing human.
Make me human.
I am running, which is not true, I am doing better
Look at me! Look at me!
I am so insecure, and I am sure that it will eventually go away, but I don’t know what to do about now, when I don’t want to drink or get high but I am so afraid of people poking me in the eye, that I do it to myself over and over because it feels so much better than you doing it, which inherently I know you don’t want to do anyway, but I like to show dominance through pain, because it makes me feel special and important and so very unique.
You reek of selfishness Millennial.
Oh, good one cheap shooting ****
You are an idiot.
I am a flat line, drawn in the sand, killing insecurity with an imaginary massive attack of stop doing this now, forgive yourself **** it.
I felt better as an internet serial killer, that was my version of The Punisher,
I live in fear of being happy, because I don’t want anything good because having things you want makes it so you can take them away from me. I don’t even want it to begin with damn it. Take it!!!!!!!!!!!
I’ll show you how much I don’t want it. I will make you all get away from me!
That is why I act the way I do. I am literally a child having a hissy fit, and I realized this today.
I never learned how to deal with things like an adult, so I am going through it now.
Sorry for the continuous explanation, I am explaining it to myself, really.
Finally looking in the mirror.
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 just realized how much I constantly squash myself under my own thumb. I blame others, and make excuses for the reasons I have failed, I create stories that justify my behavior and tell you in crafted lies, why I had to do what I did because if you only knew how hard it was to be me you would have done the same thing. I just saw clearly for the first time in my life that the only thing behind my suffering has been my own personal choices, and continuous hissy fits at a universe that has been nothing but kind to me, letting me continue to live, when in truth I have done nothing to deserve this. I am a bad person, I know this now, I say this not because of what I have done, but because of the fact that I continued to do things, whatever they were when I knew they were hurting people and I did not care because I am selfish, self centered, egotistical and drawn to the delusion that I can somehow make up for all of my bad behavior through ridiculous justification. I can’t, I am what I am and the only thing I can do is make up for it now, by actively trying to change my life, which I will start trying to do by not feeling sorry for myself because I am lucky enough to still be here for whatever reason, and I am going to make it a good one.
I see that it does not matter who I was, that was a justification for a bad man’s life, but I am failing to move on. I will begin doing that going forward, bear with me, I have no idea what I am doing.
WARNING: THIS IS FICTION DO NOT INTERPRET LITERALLY
No, because now it is flying around my house in front of my face. I hate myself.
Okay, I am done, I am feeling better now. I am sorry for upsetting you, Amanda.
I don’t hate my name that much when you say it, Damien.
I hate my name, my face… I am sorry…
I just can’t believe I remembered killing my family……..
You didn’t burn it down either, you just happened to experience something similar and are drawing false comparisons due to paranoid schizophrenia.
I love you Damien.
Please don’t. Hey, Amanda! Please help me, please don’t let us ruin this. I am done with everything please support me in this. Please support me in this, I need you now, more then ever. Please help me, and help yourself. I will support you too.
I will, support you and me I mean… not like that… I am not helping you with money…
I don’t mean… I am so sorry.
I am so sorry, I exist. I am trying to… I admire your brother, Amanda, he is everything I should have been. I am listening to him speak as you write this.
I am too.
I love you, and it will be alright, we will be alright.
I know, you will too.
Thank you, that means the world.
To me too.
Hey, that is mean..
I know, but I thought it would get you to talk to me.
Jerk. Fine, here.
I am fine.. I am fine. I am fine. Everything is just ******* peachy. I can’t even feel things anymore lest I resurrect demon. Everything is my ******* fault. I can’t have a genuine response. I am not allowed to.
Geez. You can, just think of the effect on the other people.
I am. That is all I am thinking about right now, I am just going to not do anything, anymore. I am the… I sound like such..
Yeah, I know.
Thanks, I need that.
This is right before this story began, and gives more back story into character origins.
Enter Resentment before it becomes full blown Misery.
I am the seed of man’s fall, I am the call to end all, I am the lack of feet to stand on, I am falling with nothing to land on. I wish I was dead, I wish someone would cut off my head.
I am standing on a bridge, looking over the water, I am lucid, because I got ripped off, this is when I was still in my most callous form. A complete wreck of reckless abandonment of my human soul. I am looking down into the water, I can see her body down there, she is the fifth one I have seen today, they litter the ground, as if someone is following me, something or someone stalking me, and consuming my friends, eating their souls and leaving them tossed for me to see. I feel this, and I know my feelings are not to be trusted, but this I feel differently this is at me, taunting it stalks me and confronts me. I am forced to face, every time I didn’t say no we should just do something else, every time I carried forth a plan to get high and they met my tragic keepers, those I serve and the erected death idol that they have cast like a statue to worship in the sky.
I am not a bad person, I just don’t pay attention, I pay for things I give to other people in exchange for part of the things I pay for, my best friend pays for things with things she has because she is she. I don’t have this ability so I pay with delivery like a pizza man from Hell.
We are quite the miserable duo. I don’t like doing this anymore, I talk sometimes like I doing it because the thing possesses me, I am propelled by a voice that gives me no choice but to sound like this and speak in style that rhymes for miles to mock the speech of human beings beyond teaching.
I am perpetually looking down, not seeing faces, because then I don’t have to remember them, and it makes it a little bit easier, to serve a demon to eat dragon fire. I hate my life, this has never been fun, but this is a new low, and I want out, but they will arrest me if they see me writhing in drug addicted agony on the ground, and I am too crazy to survive five seconds if apprehended. I hate myself, but I can’t stop easily because I don’t have the ability to stop moving long enough to be able to deal with the physical debilitation of withdrawal. I started doing all of this when I first started hearing voices, and it used to make them better, now it is the voices, and I don’t know what to do anymore, because I don’t want to take my life, but it so hard not to. I am so unhappy.
I have been a basket case all day, up and down and up and down. I am so exhausted, that I just can’t do this anymore. I am resolving now to try and move on. I am accountable for everything I did. I know this, but I don’t think suicide is the answer, or rather I know it is not. I can’t do that to those around me, and I have been driving myself in the opposite direction today. A lot of what I have posted today, has to do with me flipping out because there are no meetings today, so even though I have my family… I am very much alone in my own head until Sunday, church helps me. I don’t know why I have to do this to myself. I am driving myself crazy, and I don’t have to, but my brain does it anyway. I am really starting to think I need professional help. I am getting my other affairs in order and then I think I am going to start going to therapy.
I have finally reached a point where I can safely admit I am no longer able to do this with the resources I have, as helpful as they have been. I can’t keep doing this to myself because it is painful for those around me to watch. I keep trying but then my bipolar defunct brain keeps sending me back and forth and it is maddening. I am a lot of the time incapacitated by my own inner demons. I wish I could stop, but I think it may be time for me to admit I need professional help.
I just hope I can do this.
I am so tired of the back and forth hellish roller coaster I have been on.
I don’t want to do this like this anymore. I am sorry to anyone who worries about me. I am trying really hard.
Trigger warning, strong caution. Not literal, if you are upset by this kind of thing do not view. I am writing to process repressed self-hatred due to being born in the wrong body, this post is directed at my female form.
Isn’t that neat?
Sorry **** you ripped me off, I don’t care that your face is soft, like mine
BECAUSE MINE IS NOT.
Look, how my fist got caught on yours, my fist not his, you wanted to play a little game didn’t you baby, calling your crazy friend, and then telling your girlfriend will deal with it.
I am not your girl friend honey.
Sorry, baby just wanted your money, well and your cocaine, oh the disdain of the female brain that is now in such pain. You think I care?
I told you who I was and you called me a liar. Now look your soul is on fire, is it too good for you baby? Making you a little itchy and a little crazy, welcome to my world, my sweet little liar.
Your soul is now on fire. I loved you but you never loved me, you told me you did, but never really, I was your toy when your boyfriend hit you.
Now you scream on the corner screaming look what you let him do?
You did this to yourself, you think I did this to you????
I loved you.
You hated me and used me, and you want to talk to me about humiliation?
You only wanted me for derived sensation.
If you like opera and metal, this band is great. The lead singer is an ex-opera singer. They have very weird lyrical themes. I like them because they are strange and a lot of their songs talk about insanity. They are ****ing excellent live too.
I am learning that admitting there is something higher than me, which isn’t hard because I am not ever high anymore is bringing me peace, no offense to anyone offended which is ridiculous for me to say because this whole thing reads like a caged man lamenting insanity anyway. Religion is bringing me peace and I am insecure so take it or leave it. There is a saying in AA, eat the meat and spit out the bones. I like the bones. Obviously, and me thinking there is something else in this world than this world, keeps my inner darkness in check. Shot to self-pride, taken. Okay I feel better now.
How weak I was while I was a lying ***. I am so happy I finally got that I was running to the mouth of a storm that was really inside myself, the chaos I chased was the chaos that attacked me. Amanda is realizing this too, that we both existed as a dance with death and wondered why our friends kept dying, and we kept being haunted by reapers that are the characters in the lives of an addict that is why we speak the way we do, through poetic analogy.
My wife and Joy are hanging out in the room talking, and it is nice, because I am remembering that I used to hear voices differently than I do now, I would hear people say things they weren’t saying and be compelled by paranoia about things that were not even things that happened to ruin my life myself. Like I said before, this is Amanda’s backstory too, and her life was the same, we would talk in dark moments, through people. She would see me in their eyes, because for awhile I didn’t have the spirited strength I have now. I was half a person as was she, but I lacked physical form because I lacked… I don’t know the ability to admit I was even a human being?
Enough of this.
I identified myself with my name because that is a thing people do right, this is an indication that it will be only me speaking not Amanda. Unless she interjects, but mostly me.
I am starting to understand the same things she is about the whole positive outlet for rage thing. I think I get why my family doesn’t mind me sitting all day on the internet typing. I am trying to find little things I can do every day to improve, so I become less ashamed of my life of failure.
My leg is getting better, which means my friend’s leg is getting better. She is having the same sensations of failure as me, but due to a lack of what I have currently, because while existing with her, I am her future life, because we are all power I feeling I’s in the sky of lies.
I am such a jerk, at least I am being a jerk on here in an outlet sort of way.
I am sorry for the disturbing outbursts.
Usually. Maybe, if she listens to herself, she can like who she likes and I can like my family without killing them.
I don’t know what those two things have to do with each other, but it’s something that I thought to write down so it’s obviously real because I have been so trustworthy so far. Why does my daughter think I am so pathetic I need assistance staying warm?
Why is that my reaction to someone asking if I need a blanket.
Do you need help should not be followed by no, fuck you. I hate this. Life was so much easier before I had feelings, this must be how five year olds feel. Why didn’t I do this when I was five so I don’t have to deal with it now. olds is spelled wrong because I won’t admit I own my own feelings, because screw accountability. I’m shaking because I’m cold and blankets are a sign of weakness.
Do you have any idea what it feels like to make a complete $%^ of yourself, while thinking no one is watching and then realize they are? I do. Damn, it. I am living with Diane, and feel better albeit a little like I have been kicked in the nuts. I like her, and she is like me, so it’s not as insulting having someone tell me what to do. She is a step ahead of me most of the time, and is more like the sugar in my coffee than Rei was the hand dragging me to the dentist. I know that is not a good metaphor. I feel like an idiot. I really believed my brain was broken, and that screaming and freaking out was going to somehow cause the universe to implode on me. It didn’t. I’m glad. I think, or maybe it did, and that is how I got here. I don’t really understand this whole thing yet.
I just thought I was stealing time from people to gain more time myself… that and other things. I am going to try after this to do less ranting and more story-telling of things that happen, so I feel like less of a lunatic.
I… hate myself. I can’t stop crying. I feel like I want to rip off my own skin. I have this horrible vibrating sensation running throughout my whole body, and I can’t stop crying. I am su.. stuck…. here……. and I… killed her…….. I….. Rei…. What am I going to do, with myself? I am just going to keep jumping from person to person, a vacuous death magnet consuming all that comes close to me, until there is nothing of me left… I wish there was nothing of me left. I just…… I am so…. lonely. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t why…… I don’t know what I wanted……why did I want……..