I was walking through the woods, not sure how I got there, or why, just remember waking up walking, I am alone in this memory, and walking careful not to alert animals to my presence, and I am scared, not sure of what, but I know it is not human…

You come up to me, I do not know who you are, or what you are, I mean to say….

I just know that, the instant I see you

I know I am safe.

You tell me you feel it too, a pulling in the air, as if we…

Are in the ocean, and there is an undertow.

You talk to me, and I feel like you are keeping us above water.

I am in the woods, so it doesn’t make much sense, because it is the woods, not the ocean, but I feel the sense that we are always on the verge of sinking, as if we are treading water. She keeps her head close to mine, and every so often, I can feel her breath. She whispers in Spanish in my ear, I am not fluent, so I don’t know what she is saying, but I feel safer with every word she says, knowing only that as I continue, i am getting safer.

I wake up sweat drenched and alone, but not anywhere I started. I am in the woods, alone, there is no one around. I look for the woman, and no one is to be seen. To this day, I am convinced I met a ghost in those woods that saved me from drowning in a swamp. My name means from swamp, I wonder to this day, if this was some sort of vision of a relative.

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Do you see?

I am staring at a mirror, and seeing something that most people would argue is not there, and having a conversation, that most people would argue is with no one, but it is someone I know very well, who is not myself.

She tells me she loves me, and asks me to follow her, she is an idiot. I cannot walk through glass, well not in this way anyway, I can walk on it, not through it. I tell her this and she tells me

“If you step on me, you will surely die”.

I am aware of the problems that come with stepping on shattered glass with two feet, thank you for the reminder.

I come closer, and she kisses me, and my mouth starts bleeding, but she tastes good, like lavender and vanilla.

I walk out of the room, and hear a crash, I go back in the room and the mirror is broken.

How many times have I made this bed?

I am room 39.

I am ironic because I am very eeriely close to 36.

I am a room in a motel, but I am also a number close to 36.

I am a number with a 3 and a 6 flipped upside down, which is the same as the hands that write this on a computer.

I am a room where there is a ghost that locked these hands in a closet for an hour.

I am deathly quiet

She is staring at a candle that is underneath a sheet. The candle is on the wall of a house that has been abandoned by its owner’s long ago. She tells me that she feels the pain of the walls, and I ask what she means, she says she too has been abandoned long ago. I tell her that human beings should not have owners, she laughs, and tells me she does not understand why I am telling her this.

I am fading into the walls.

I explain that she is not like the house, which has been abandoned because the house was owned by humans, she tells me she knows how that feels, and I ask her why, this time not bothering to remind her about her humanity. She tells me that since she could remember she always had the company of a male stranger, and now has no one. I tell her we should leave this house, getting an eerie feeling by all that she has revealed, she says she does not think she can, and I tell her she can do whatever she likes. She asks me if I mind if she stays in this house because it has always been her home. I tell her I am leaving, she refuses to come with me.

I left the house in the middle of the night, and the woman followed me, despite her claims that she intended to do the opposite, when we were about 50 feet from the house, I turned my head, and saw her running back towards the dreadful house, I did not follow her, afraid of what drew her back to it’s unearthly darkness.

There was a shadow behind you, that I did not recognize every time I looked at you, and I never thought about it before, and even though this is obviously not you, because I would never put a picture of you on the internet, and you were born a guy, so you looked like a guy, the shadow is there, so I used this.

I altered this so I put the shadow there, obviously. I am talking to myself anyway, who cares.

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Serve me, please, get on your knees, I am addiction, you are my servant, and I am behind all addicts who fake a smile

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I am holographic, and I glow, with your inability to admit that you are the same as someone who used to love, who became addicted to the act of push and shove

She hurt you so badly, did she really, was it really Rei Clearly?

That’s not even her real name, you dirty liar.

I came for her because I come for all addicts too, I am addiction and I am what lives in you all, she didn’t screw you over, she screwed herself, in a worship act of bottle on shelf, needle and spoon, all for myself.

Sound familiar, it really should, you are a hypocrite with nose of wood.

Looks wonderfully comfortable doesn’t it?

Which is great for me, because the building I was living in at the time was not dark, but was abandoned, which I told her…

she said it was edgy, whatever the **** that means, apparently being a junkie is edgy? I don’t think she knows what edgy means. I don’t really have much of a choice of whether or not she is coming with me because she kind of just started following me to my edgy ****hole of an, “I sleep here till I am told to vacate…”.

I am the glamour of the unknown.

I am so free, you do not even know.

I spend every day and every night in a continuous race to erase my whole **** life.

I am talking to her, and I realize she is not even listening to me…..

The oddest thing about the whole thing, was that eventually at some point during the whole thing she just walked away, I tried to ask her where she was going, and she just kept walking, saying nothing, just left…. to this day, I wonder what she wanted, and there is a part of me that still thinks she was a ghost.

I moved my spot the next day, I wonder sometimes if she was a sad junkie that lived in that building who thought it was edgy at first and then died there… or if she was just my brain telling me to stop doing drugs through hallucinations.

I am looking into a clear glass window, and shudder, and everyone around thinks I am crazy, they don’t see what I see, they see clear glass looking into a very ordinary room.

Not this.

The glass reflects everything past, not just present, reflecting the light of times had, and present, multilayered and all at once, reflected through clear glass.

Staring into Glass, Not looking at the same thing

What do you see in the light?

I see things that no one else does, things that no one else would want, reflections of the past, reflections of pure feeling, that are happening now, that happened then, that will happen, and I do not know the difference.

I just see them, without wanting to.

I see everything, without wanting to.

The universe paints in color, mostly, but there are beings in black and white, shadow people who do not get the colors of reflected light

Colored beings dance throughout the world, reflecting light on shadow men, who do not participate just observe and defend something that I do not know yet, I am not sure, think I forget… and I have been wondering lately what I forgot, sitting and thinking about what remains to be sought.

I am thinking so, and sitting alone, as I do because I know that I am a shadow of the people I can see, I see them, they can’t see me. I am a shadow of their reflections of light. I am not real, just a lack of light.

I hear a sound from behind and turn around, it is not a light beaming but the sound of down.

I am taken back, but I am not scared, some how it feels like I always knew this was there, speaking to me in shades I get, anger, pain and deep regret

I look to it, and it sees me, makes eye contact and warns me, do not be like me, please.

What do you mean? I say, and then it simply walks away.

Can’t repeat the past?” he cried incredulously. “Why of course you can!” He looked around him wildly, as if the past were lurking here in the shadow of his house, just out of reach of his hand. 

F. Scott Fitzgerald

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.

Love,

Damien

How has a failure, or apparent failure, set you up for later success?

Then you tell me to go away, and I won’t I will watch you, as you tell her you know what’s best for us, her, you say weak demon that you are… you tell her I am every person whoever hurt her.

I don’t even have hands, and why would I kill myself? I live in her mind, that makes

NO SENSE

And she believes because

HEROIN

GO AWAY DAMIEN
Did it save you honey, is it making all of this funny instead of being what it is, with your nose runny with blood from his kiss of

FIST

You don’t punch back because he is ****

That lacks soul, or a reeking soul caged lack of man manifesting in a soul not whole.

YOU WILL NOT TOUCH ME
I WILL
GO AWAY
GET AWAY FROM US
DON’T TOUCH HER

She doesn’t belong to you, Damien you are the devil, it is in your name.

My name means tame.

She belongs to me now.

She is a human being sir, not an answer to the cancer that is your chaotic soul.

I AM HER TOO. DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME TO GET OUT OF A BODY THAT IS HALF MINE

Sorry, Amanda.

I get it.

DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH ME

She is not you, Damien, you are the devil.

THAT WAS A MOVIE DUMMY
YOU ONLY WANT HER MONEY FOR

HEROIN

I am saving the heroine.

I hear you. I hear, you. Now leave ME THE FUCK ALONE!!! If I type this will you stop screaming at me. I am putting you on here so you leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. You will not hurt her. I am training her so you stay away from her. She is like me, you will stay away from her. You will not touch Rei. You will not touch Rei! You will leave her the fuck alone. You will leave her the fuck alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone.

It talks to me, and it is silent for the seconds, so I put this up here to explain. I am losing my mind. I am losing my mind.