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.
So sorry, that is just where I dwell, sometimes, not all the time, really, I am fine, just thinking about you sometimes, not all the time.
You are on my
BRAIN BRAIN BRAIN
In meditative state I reflect on the rain, and think of drowing, a duck with my head up, not breathing, just sucking in the water, and choking on it.
Burn me sweetie, make it hot, burn it so it cures my soul rot. Make it seering, make it jarring, make it burning, make it scarring.
She wore my coat, and I left it with her, because she smelled like lavender, and I wanted to forget her.
You reminded me of the rays of the sun, and that reminded me of someone I would rather
FORGET
Let me go. Let me go. Let me go.
I am so sorry, wedded to disdain, been with her such a long time, grown so used to being bound to decline, it is always on my mind.
She talks so sweetly sometimes, really, voice sounding so simular, to my ex Rei Clearly,
She tells me she loves me, and sometimes I believe the lie, it is so hard, she is a good spy, has such a good hand, good at act of torture, she is a word sorcerer.
Her face was kissed by the light, bathed in sun, so bright
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.
The chase is on, I am running in front, running in front of cars and running in the light of day, I am addicted to being chased by death, I am running right and left, I am playing with the idea of time theft. They are plunging towards me as I get high on the idea of roll the die.
Roll the dice, baby, color by number,
I am running towards the idea of death, I am chasing after the idea of theft of life, I am chasing the idea of dying, I am leaving the idea of trying.
Nihilism, nihilism, nihilism, I love you so,
Oh, nihilism, I will never let you go.
I am the act of rolling under, roll the die, baby, I am the act of die, die, die.
I am chaos incarnate..
Do you chase death?
In the blink of an eye, I make the woman in the passenger seat cry, she is looking at the driver’s seat cry, what are they doing…. I have no idea why?????
I am the act of dog in a human being.
Surrounded on both sides, by the all consumingness of you, I look out into nothing, and see only lack, my soul in perpetual attack, under the spell of don’t look back, and look down and vomit with sound of
ACK. Cough. Cough. I am human eating from chaos’ trough, I eat drugs and don’t come down, I star out into the lurking nothing, reflecting back on pain that I stuff into
The gaping hole, that I have inside my soul, it rips and tears and eats the idea of me whole. I am reality bought and sold, I am bell of death ringing, I am a toll,
Unpaid, unpaid, unpaid.
I am gate to HELL,
You are the idea of HELL
Idea of being UNWELL
OF PAIN THAT IS SWELL
AND SWELLING AROUND MY SOUL
OF DEATH CONSUMED BY UNPAID TOLL
Laid, laid, laid, and
Opening, opening, opening, and staying
Extended into the opening, opening,
Blue, and black nothing, I am the idea of you stuffing stuffing, into the the whole hole of your soul, the teddy bear full of NOTHING.
Explanation: This is a journal style entry full of negativity or negative self-talk that I am trying to write out of my head, read with that in mind, do not read if you cannot handle dark horror dramatized fiction.
This is for you baby, you make me insane, you live in my brain, oh voice of disdain, making fun of voice of complain, you are mean, but succeed in drain, drain, drain, all pain from me, so I guess I can thank ya, right? Yeah, right…
My hands hurt, my head hurt, and my brain hurts, so I have spent the entire day in bed feeling sorry for myself ansd watching television, and just got sick of my relentless whining enough to make jokes about it on the internet, because it makes my own resentment, or the voice of every person I have dated, shut the **** up, if I do it to myself instead.
That is the explanation for the plot of the story that is my life, talking at myself or to myself to stop the screaming of my brain at myself.
That good enough for you, *****???
Hope so, maybe then I will be able to chill the **** out.
Hahaha, it is kind of funny now though, the relentless pile of verbal trash I hurl at my own face…
Her face a garden of perfection, she was picturesque, with anything negative beyond my detection, she was beauty incarnate, completely divine, she was picturesque to me, but who do I know, I am half blind.
Everything about her, appeared divine, she was beauty, she was divinity, for her I would lose my mind.
Your mind is already gone, long ago, you fool, said my inner child, for this beautiful woman, my soul went slightly wild.
Slightly? Questioned the child within me, fully completely, was my sanity.
She was a painting, a mosaic, she was divine, but what do I know, I am insane, my mind is not kind.
I am in love, I am in love, with voices that shove me, anyone really, who makes me feel dreary, because I am addicted to pain not with painkillers but with pain, addicted is not the right word, maybe
LOVE would be more appropriate.
I love you baby, so much, so very much.
BURN ME
I go round and round in circles, I am the pain of mind that won’t turn off, I am addicted to the cycle of up and down, can’t get off.
I go round and round in circles, I am the pain of mind that won’t turn off, I am addicted to the cycle of up and down, can’t get off.
Why? And what do you mean?
I mean be mean to me, make me cry, I like to be poked in the eye.
Um… dude…
I know, this is weird, I am going to stop embarrassing myself online…
I colored you like your two loves.
She was a monster, my sweet turtle dove, she was so crazy, and loved black and white, she was a monster, with him she did fight.
Still life
I live the still life, I lay around and do drugs all night.
Your boyfriend was so dull, though you were so great, he just layed around, you two couldn’t relate, I don’t know what you saw in him, that’s a lie yes I did, he was your dealer, and you two had a kid.
I wish I could have had you, and so did, so you say, but because you refused to leave him, I had to go away, now you remain in all likelihood, still doing the same thing, not getting out, but instead giving in.
The addicted live in misery, they live in pain, the lurk in the shadows, they stand in the rain, the litter the streets with garbage and pain, they scream in the night, their lives down the drain, they have no hope, they are told they should die, and looking back it just makes me cry.
Color me with re-touch, paint it on thick.
I am so happy, I am elated, I am hapiness, I am instated.
You amuse me, baby. You make it all clear, in the continuous light, there is the death of fear.
In the darkness, there is the smallness of men, in the light men can pretend.
I am the act of courage defended.
I am happening, I am walking, I am talking, I am man experiencing joy.
I am selfishness, I am madness, I am a toy.
Darkness, darkness, I am mad, darkness, darkness makes me sad.
Cry for me baby, make me go crazy.
I am the toy of madness.
Madness. Madness. Mad nest
Nesting, nesting, nesting
Doll
All the birds
Big and small
The arrogance of man destroys nature to make a land of joyous elation.
The birds are displace, squirrel’s home are erased, and perpetual light is found.
I am children screaming loud.
Click. whir, clack, bang, boom, vroom.
I am a magic act.
Entertain me, please.
I am so entertaining.
I am arrogance.
Look at me. Look at me. Look at me.
The sun is down, so I am alone again, alone with me, and my best friend, myself, me, and I, so I think about things that make me cry, and afraid of the dark, things I saw while awake, that make me afraid to shut my eyes.
I used to stay up to watch my back, while outside, where animals could attack, and now although I am inside, I am awake still, with eyes that cannot shut, because they look back, and see the woods, glowing with lack of light, and things that bite, I am afraid, in fear I stay, and sleep it does, keep away.
That is why I am glad, of me there are two, because I would die, if not without you.
Thank you, sweetheart, for being there.
Thank you too, I am afraid of the dark too.
It is the end of the day, and I am looking for a place to stay.
I am running, I am not sure what I am running from, but I come upon this house, and begin pounding on the door, there are women inside and I start speaking, not even sure what is going to come out of my mouth, just knowing that I am hungry and tired, and can’t walk anymore, because it feels like I have been walking for a really long time.
They invite me to sit down.
I am a house in the middle of nowhere, I am owned by an adult child, and populated with the unfortunates, who travel through the night and day, and come and stay sometimes, and sometimes run away, and never return.
I am not paid for, because I was abandoned a long time ago, and to the eyes of the owner, no one ever comes in and no one ever leaves.
I am covered with lack of care, which is great because on these stairs, no one is there, no one and everyone really, every one and any one who is in need…
She glowed with radiance she glowed with dark, she glowed with shadow, she glowed with the power of heart, she was so sad, her face was marked with tragedy and abandoned heart, her dog had no name, she knew no call, she followed her owner anyway, girl who was tall, both in stature and in tale, she was a liar, who was prone to fail, addicted to fiction and tall tales,
I am Shelia, that is my name, I am a Shelia, a girl, a dame.
A man of soot told me a lie, and now wolf, do I cry.
I played with fire, and he hurt me bad, stole my dog, now I am sad.
I will follow you
Follow you wherever you may go
Except that storage unit, anywhere but there, anywhere but there, I am going up the stairs, I want to be anywhere but there.
It tells me it knows what I think, that I am going to Hell, and that it will be okay, that I have nothing to fear, because the devil, a man who lived, is just like me, and everything will be alright, that I can have whatever I want, once I get there, and that I should just swear allegiance now.
I laugh, if I have to swear allegiance, that is all horse ****.
Feed me your bull****
Feed me your lies
Tell me your stories of deep dark cries
To heads that love you, so very much, that trap you and keep you like an animal stuffed
and suffering in a deep dark hole
They don’t want your friendship, just you sullied soul.
I am standing in a room alone, talking to my best friend, myself or whatever, same thing, and we are laughing.
The wind blows, and we hear this song, that sounds like everything in the universe connecting, all the sounds into a song, a song where all the sounds in the universe make a song, connecting in a way that is sounds like that, and it is so loud, I can no longer hear anything else. For anyone wondering this is a side effect of brain damage from having been up two weeks at time. It is not pleasant, and not desired, and very uncomfotable.
I am in your kitchen, and have your sole, of your shoe, because I have one of those too, and there is nothing you can do, because you can’t run, you have no legs to stand on, and I look at my legs and they are slowly turning the color of the fridge, white, white, white, with death with lack of blood, and……
TBC
I was walking past them, and she stoppped me.
I don’t know why, she was dressed up for an elegant outside meal. I was scrounging around looking for spare change, from more fortunate people that happened to pass by. The area I was in was frequented by well off travelers, which is why I chose to walk through there at dinner time, they were more likely to help you after getting all boozed up and sleepy from eating too much, as is customary in America when out to eat on vacation at a much too expensive restaurant.
I would not even noticed their table, she was too attractive for me to notice her completely. I tend to skim past women of a higher class than available to people like me, mostly due to my inability to deal with rejection, which is highly likely with women like her.
She called out to me, offering up the rest of a plate of asparugus, and inviting me to sit down, she was extremely drunk, to her husband’s dismay. He was not very happy to see her sitting with someone when he returned to the table, so she offered to show me to the laundary mat, and we left, leaving him confused and behind.
TBC
Isn’t life lovely, isn’t life grand, how wonderful it is, lacking the courage to stand, in the darkness I am, in the dark lack of day, I am always forever, and fated to stay.
I am above you, but so very below, I am the person with whom you should not go. You don’t believe me, you think I am a liar, you think that was my brother, who you wished to set on fire.
Isn’t it nice?
Isn’t it great?
Such a pleasant re-do, now we can relate. I am not the person I was, now I am new, I am girl re-colored for you.
There is no difference, between me and him, no rhyme or reason for your lie wearing thin.
You slowly realize I was telling the truth.
Isn’t it tragic, now I am removed.
You removed yourself, sweetie.
I know I did.
You met me once, too bad you forgot
She thinks we are two different people, so very convenient.
You met me once and hated my guts, I am a girl now, and watch me re-do.
Tell me how much you do not believe me, I adore you, and told you sweetly, that I am not what you want, not a lesbian experience, but I can be whatever you desire, if that is what you want….
I can be whatever you want, I am two people, I am your want, I am whatever label you read on me, I am misread by you, for you, all about you.
I am yours to interpret, I am yours to know, I am clearly what I told you so very clearly, but you would rather hear this, so interpret the lie….
I am the opposite of everything you thought you knew, because I am a do-over, because you like women, and I can be whatever you want me to be, baby.
So very
Perplexing
Isn’t it?
Angel
I am sight from different site.
She looked like a vampire, or what you would think a vampire looked like anyway, which was probably the point. I met her in New Orleans.
I imagined the whole time, every instant I was with you, what it would be like
To hold you, to touch every inch of you, to be next to you, but I was afraid to touch you, to hold your hand, to be touched by hands.
I built you up in my head, your painted skin and made-up face.
You laughed at me, and I could smell your mint-scented breath in the air, dancing towards my face.
He tells me that he can change his shape, and I think of my friend, who I think I have thought about on this blog before. My friend who believes that something happens and he blanks out and becomes someone else. This reminds me of that. He tells me that he does it through mental focus and meditation on something else, not the person or animal which he is becoming. He also tells me he has no power over what he becomes.
This is slightly terrifying, and suggests that there is another party to this process, or that my new friend, has somehow tapped into the consciousness accessable to beings who meditate, which is strange, because he speaks of this as a sort of body snatching, which is precipitated by a moment of panic, the lack of calm. I don’t know what to think about it, when he is telling me this. To be continued.
I am so negative.
I am in white.
I am so negative.
I lack light.
We grow down and up, we scream in color, we scream with hands, we grasp the sky, drink the air, breath in water, we are corrupt.
In the middle of the night, we speak in lack of light in waves, with hands that reach to the sky, we are forever spies, with eyes to skies, who despise those who walk on our roots, stepping as they do on our history without notice.
We drink light, exist the same in the day and dark night.
We grow down and up.
I am alone, I am alone, Eye am alone.
No need for anyone, or for phone, or sound, I exist in the resounding sound of down, of put down, deep underground.
I am the act of burrow, I am brow furrowed.
In a cave kind of like this, an abysmal abyss of pure dark bliss, kissed with grey of the act of away, she existed just in this, like this, in bliss.
The dark expanses of this place, painted her face with darkness, with space, with the act of erase, of space, of just exist, in this, pure bliss, death’s kiss.
In a cave that was painted with the power of the abyss,
She lived out her days of swimming in dark waters, and filling her mouth with their mucky dirt, in her world of hurt.
She was a sorrow filled creature, with a deep dark soul, that was like the painted cave, and with misery taking it’s toll.
She was devoted to sadness, it was her favorite drink, and with every sip, she would sit and she would think.
How peculiar
I met her near a bridge, she was going to work, she spotted me underneath the bridge, picking up the rest of my stuff, so no one would know I had camped there for the night. If I was careful, sometimes I could use the same spot twice. This was particularly important in Oregon, because it was not as understanding as California, and shop owner’s or random passersby could help police decide to banish the unhoused travelers.
Do you still think what you thought about her?
Yes. I still find it very strange that her name was Bridgette and we met her underneath a bridge.
Look, I know that is peculiar, but what you thought was insane.
I don’t think it is that insane that people were following us and giving quickly devised names, it is a perfectly logical explanation that you see in old movies all the time.
I remember standing there with you, but alone, I am not a human being, but one who walks with herd, and cannot answer telephone. I remember walking with herd of sheep, and one unknown. I am not an answerer of call, but a mouth that is sewn, tragically shut, by needle.
I was once a maker of dark colored quilt, sown onto pained skin. I am looking back now, at scarred skin, not speaking of new pain, just of that used to live within, it is no longer, but there is nothing new dwelling in the skin I am wearing.
That is not true.
I know that is not true, but go with me, here.
Okay.
I am not sure where I am going with this actually, thank you for interrupting me.
You’re welcome.
Such tragic skies
I love you baby, you make me complete, you so fare, you are so wonderful, and you are so neat. You are so wonder filled, so lovely, with your grace, I am replete. I would build you an altar, but my love is strewn across the street.
I am so sorry, for how it must end, you were such a wonderous, lovely, trend, for my life to take…. so dreadfully sorry, I made such a tragic and unfashionable mistake.
You were so right, my angel, about me, and my life, me, such a dark creature, addicted to night.
I am so sorry, baby, I loved you so much. I am so sorry, that I lost all your trust. I couldn’t do what you asked me, I see through blind eyes, so sorry sweetie, I am a creature of despise.
Pole or I’d
What you thought
What you did
What you thought
What I did
He is a liar
I am away
Forever and ever forgotten forgetter
I hate you Just in time
I am no longer addicted to dimes
I am a lie, I am the truth, I found a way, I am so ruthless, you are a liar, you tried to remove me.
Mother****er.
You are still once in awhile trying to contact me.
HAHAHAHAHAHA
I win. I won. I win.
I am vengence, I am rage. I was in a cage, now I am always on a path away from you.
You make me so happy, you make me so… actually, I forgot… I am no longer that way…
Which?
I am battered, I am fried, I am toasted, I am dyed, I am chasing after I, I am screaming after guy, I am chaos of nearly died, I am seering poke in eye.
You are insane, and lying now.
I know, but at least I made you smile, so whatever.
It’s all for you, Damien.
The Omen
I am allergic to cookies, which is really my way of saying I am allergic to feelings.
You have such pretty eyes
Oh, pretty flower.
I like woman’s hands, staring at them makes me happy, so happy that I forget where I am and dream about things that make me feel like I am somewhere else.
She makes cookies, that taste so sweet, she makes cookies, she is neat, she makes cookies, and I am not there, because I am an ***hole.
I am busy, I am outside, I am too busy, not trying to hide, I simply like to be outside, and find things that make me high.
I am about the past. I am about the past. **** it. I am about the past. I am writing this instead of getting high, because I love my family, so instead of getting high I decided to…………………write this insane… whatever you call it.. satirical roast of myself, do you like roast chicken, here is a roast of a chicken, written by a chicken, for a chicken, for me, it’s all for you, self.
I am the omen. I am the omen. I am the omen.
just hanging out
I think I would be happier like this, completely alone, talking to myself as my partner.
Hey, isn’t that what we are doing now, and doesn’t it ****?
Yes.
Than what the **** are you talking about???
I am the flower of devour.
That I am insane, and don’t know what else to say, and I am trying to make someone laugh, even if it is just you?
So you are talking to yourself on a blank screen, trying to type things that make you feel good about yourself?
Yeah, isn’t that what the book of faces is???
I don’t think anyone on that thing is looking in a mirror talking to their own face as if it is another person?
They aren’t? That is what it looks like to me.
That is because we are insane, and it is not what they are doing, because they are not insane.
That sucks.
For us or them.
Well, mostly them.
Why?? Not what I expected to hear…
Because, we never have to be truly alone.
Or, we are always more alone than anyone ever.
Other than maybe Gollum on Lord of the rings.
My whole is not my fault. I was scre… can’t even sarcastically say this, this is insane, not true, ****.
I had nothing to do with this, I had nothing to do with this. I had nothing to do with this, my whole life is very short, I had nothing to do with this.
I am blame.
I am not at fault.
It was fate from the very start, I have done nothing wrong, my whole life, Hell’s theme song.
I am such a bad liar.
My hand! My hand!
I am laughter, I am contention, I am a soul with no potential for redemption.It’s all because of you, not anything I do, I got dealt such **** cards, look at me, my life was hard.
It’s got to be my hand, my hand, because I am missing my finger tips on three fingers, my thumb, my right one, the right one, the one I used to write with, not I type with… that has to be the reason that I failed, lived a life of ship has sailed, clearly not that I jumped off, long ago.
Your hand happened, our hand happened when we were 32, you are 36, four years was not all the ruining we did…
You said we, not just you…
I know, I feel sorry for you sometimes.
Yourself, stupid.
I know stupid, I am good at that.
Wow, that is disgusting don’t type that…
Oh I know, I thought that too, I am always right behind you.
That is creepy as all Hell.
Guess, what it got us.
It is just as well.
Silly girl, silly girl, you are my world, you are my world, you turn me up and down, round and round, and into the water.
She tells me, she thinking this area, looks like drinking elephants, I wasn’t thinking about drinking at that moment, but instantly began thinking about drinking when she mentions the elephants, we both start laughing, we are sitting on the ledge, hanging upside down, and looking at this, hanging over the edge, my head hurts from blood rushing to it, my head hurts easier than most peoples.
I laugh and lean forward to kiss her, she pushes me, I am good at falling backwards, for about 30 minutes she thinks I am dead, and for about 30 minutes I am searching for people with booze or drugs under the bridge. She screams down for me, and I come back, some guy gave me something, and I make some stupid joke about drinking like the elephants.
She forgives me.
She looks really good in my shoes, she lost hers looking for me.
I am forever reminded of you Ruby, whenever I think about elephants, which is right now, and yesterday when I saw some earings that looked like the one you lost that day.
Silly girl, silly girl, you are my world, you are my world, you turn me up and down, round and round, and into the water.
She tells me, she thinking this area, looks like drinking elephants, I wasn’t thinking about drinking at that moment, but instantly began thinking about drinking when she mentions the elephants, we both start laughing, we are sitting on the ledge, hanging upside down, and looking at this, hanging over the edge, my head hurts from blood rushing to it, my head hurts easier than most peoples.
I laugh and lean forward to kiss her, she pushes me, I am good at falling backwards, for about 30 minutes she thinks I am dead, and for about 30 minutes I am searching for people with booze or drugs under the bridge. She screams down for me, and I come back, some guy gave me something, and I make some stupid joke about drinking like the elephants.
She forgives me.
She looks really good in my shoes, she lost hers looking for me.
I am forever reminded of you Ruby, whenever I think about elephants, which is right now, and yesterday when I saw some earings that looked like the one you lost that day.
She is not like you, so she is going down, I love you sweetheart and your friend would rather lay down.
She stole your money, and I’ll give it back, little do you know, this is all an act. We tricked you, baby, but you don’t know. I wanted your attention and your friend did know. Now you are sitting thinking she left you here, she is buying something of which you won’t here. I covered for her, because without her, I would never have met you, and after today won’t see you again, and this I bet you, so right now, I will tell you anything you want to hear, and yes have anything you want, I have it here.
I don’t know when she will be back, she did not tell me, and yes she will be back of this I assure, I implore you please relax, your insanity and anxiety is such a tax, I love your voice honey, and love your face, I have something that I am sure will make your pain slow pace.
Okay, she is back no go away, and if you are ever in need you know where I stay.
I am watching you
And it makes me so very sad, to see you standing in a place so bad… painted as it is with death of day, a place I am sure from which you should stay far away, given such a pretty face, so tragic it would be for it to be stuck in this space, the place where we have come to haunt, to murmur curses and sadly taunt, the beings that come from above ground land, where I am sure your sweet form must be from and stand on the lands that are populated by better folk, not us my dear, who down here sulk.
There is still time, you can still turn around, you don’t have to be a lurker on this tragic ground, you need not listen to my partner’s voice, just run away, you have a choice.
She’s got cash, you fool, let’s help her out, she might help us, if we don’t make her go without, so shut your mouth, don’t make her run, come on, dumb ****, let’s have some fun.
Now I am sorry baby, but to get out of here, you are going to need a guide and she is right here, my friend, my friend, she is great, a true sweetheart, with such a pretty face, I’ll be right back, and you will laugh, she looks like me, she is my other half, she will make sure you will be fine and away you’ll go. I am someone you would rather not know, I am sure you will be just fine, look here don’t cry, sweet one, take a beer, go away, baby I am not good with your kind, I am resigned to live in life of decline, so no I don’t have what you thought you need………..
I don’t think they were talking about nightmares, idiot, that is why it says dreams not nightmares.
I live in a world of my creation, that is not subject to anyone’s dictation, I am not bothered by any situation because all you are lying and I am
ALWAYS RIGHT.
I know that my dreams which I have all day long every day all day, would never lie to me, because I never give upp on them, they are never ever to be given up, never in a
MILLION YEARS
Even if it brings me
TO MY KNEES
I would never give up on them, that is why I wrote it on my fridge with scrabble letters from a box I stole from a store while I was trying to find things to steal to buy things I didn’t need anyway.
I had a plan, it was a disaster and it failed, unfortunately building my whole life around maintaining and continuing drug and alcohol use was a bad plan… How I didn’t see this before is beyond me..
Jot down the first thing that comes to your mind.
The voice of HELL screams loud out at night, existing in a universe of lack of light, delighting in perpetual fight, and contorting those who try with all their might, but can’t seem to gain clarity of sight because they exist in perpetual spite drawn to thoughts of deep contortion they are conflicted and resort to dwelling in the comfort of complete madness, because of course it is better than blank lackless lusterr for boring life or anger thriving on perpetual strive that is inflicted with their own hands but they can’t see they don’t know where they stand, so now that sit here and right this because they have no one nothing
Hey. Stop that.
I thought it was pretty cool.
I think it is self-deprecating verbal vomit.
I like throwing up on the screen.
Better than what you used to do.
Hey, that was mean, yeah I guess it is but now I look like hell.
I like the way you look.
Thank you, you too.
I am sitting staring at the ground, in this memory with lack of sound, lack of presence of anyone around, simply staring down not up at the plain old ground. I am thinking about nothing, that is a lie, I am thinking about
Her, as I am usually thinking about her, but not the her that I usually am thinking about a different one….
I heard this voice…. a strange voice, long ago…. this is a memory… this whole thing… not just this part of it…
THE NARRATOR IS INSANE
You don’t even use my name now…. that’s kind of ****ed up
You have too many names to keep using one or the other.
I have two, and one of them is yours.
Point taken.
Are you going to finish your story?
No…… I think I will just leave it with this……..
You provide the only light I see, I am nothing, you are free to leave, I live in Hell, and that’s okay, I am nothing, go away
I am ranting and raving about how it is the only thing, that makes everything allllll riiiiiiiiiiight…………..she is crying hard, I can hear it, but I can’t see clearly……… I think she is telling me to stop because she thinks I am going to die or something……. I don’t think I am going to die…. the two drugs negate eachother… I tell her I’ll be fine, that she can leave if I am disturbing her.
I can’t see you very well
Please get down and go away
I am really not equiped to deal with this
You don’t even know me, and I can assure you I won’t be……missed…….
She tells me she is not getting down, until I get up off the ground. I tell her no and that I will be fine, she doesn’t know me, my life is mine……..I can ruin it if I want…….
Please leave me alone
I am fine
I am resigned to this
This is my space
of
Errrrrrrrrrrraaaaassssssseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
I hate myself…. I lived in Hell…… and can’t get past….. the past in which I dwell….
You were so kind to try to help me, and I pushed you and everyone else away…..
Memory, memory, of things that were not important enough to me to stop………… making people cry when they only wished I wouldn’t die…
I am so sorry, I never even bothered to learn your name, you saved my life, and I never even bothered to learn your name.
I am walking by myself, like always every night, possessed by bottle on the shelf of a wall that is abandoned, by all who do not stand in the wreck that my life has landed in
I am darkness, I am pain, I am embodied disdain.
I am dark acid rain
Reigning down on soul of nothing
I have taken up to living. here… my home is here..
Yes, my dear, I have beer, and nothing… I have nothing to…
This is my home.. this is alone.. my home…
If that’s what you call this …in this building… she thinks this is interesting… drunken creature… following me…
Calls me brave, saying I made some stand against something…that I am standing up for something…. myself I assume.. I stand in my own tomb….possessed by the fire of chaotic desire to consume….
I am glamorization of Hell
I am woman’s desire to dispell everything her parent’s told her not to do
I am where you shouldn’t be
I am do not envy me
She helps me light a fire, tells me she wants to be like me.. free….
She does not see what is really there, illuminated godess… standing at the corner of a dark cliff, wanting to jump
Wanting this….
What is it you want
You want this?
Why?
She talks to me for an hour, and for an hour everything is alright, she has to leave in the morning promises to come back, promises she actually meant everything she said.. I know she is lying…… I am nothing but a night of adventure.. I am nothing but the desire to deny potential…
I am the glamorization of a life of loss..
I am the glamorization of the freedom that is the chains of addiction..
I never see her again because heroine’s do not save heroin addicts…
I have to save myself……
Maybe if I do… one day I will see someone like you again.
Addict Hell, it’s just a spell, but it is just the same as being there, lurking in the reign of perpetual disdain.
I thought I was sitting alone, ranting and raving about things I thought only I had known, existing I thought in tragic fracture, seperate from all, a perpetual lacker.
I spoke in a state of distanced extension, from a place where I am stuck in muck that I rest in,
Thinking forever I am stuck, in the tragic clawing and ripping, my soul caked with mud, and sopping and dripping, consumed as I was with thought of my sinking,
Lower and lower, I thought I was plunging, backwards and forwards, I sat tragically lunging, sitting alone, but also with friends, but in my sick head, thought I could pretend
To be somewhere else, though I know not why I desire so constantly to poke my own eye, or to sit there back and forth rocking wishing to die, slowly, so slowly making myself cry, but you saw me and helped me
And now I feel better, thank you so dearly, from the ever forgetter.
Untitled
I found this painting of this woman outside a random house awhile ago. It was a throw away piece stained and damaged by water or something, but I liked it. It almost looked intentional the staining looking like it had been an effect that was deliberately done to the painting, like it was always supposed to look like that. It almost looked as though it was a painting that was painted to look like it had been found in a wrecked ship, that had been uncovered and the art had been salvaged.
I hung it in my friends house, where I was staying at the time, the place was a glorified squat house that we used as a venue to throw shows and to drink and hang out with other individuals who had nowhere better to be. It was frequently party to a bunch of people who had never made it in life, but were good enough at writing poetry, songs, or painting or drawing that they could draw a crowd of maybe at max fifty people. We would have gatherings where we would keep the sound to enough of a minimum as to not attract enough attention to bother the neighbors.
It was at one of these gatherings that I found the strange coin, it was extremely odd… it looked almost as if the same woman from the painting was on the coin. It was so odd that I showed it to a bunch of the guests and they had never seen it before. We looked the coin up on the internet which made me extremely paranoid, because I am odd like that…. and came up wieth nothing, my friends even looked it up on a bunch of the image match software search things, and nothing.
The search never went anywhere, and we forgot about it, after that night…. or they did… it always bothered me.. especially after the gathering because the coin dissappeared.. almost like it was never there to begin with.. and shortly after the coin dissappeared.. the strangest thing started to happen to the painting… the mouth and only the mouth began to fade, rapidly, as if it were aging hundreds over years in a couple days.
The strangest things
I was walking once, in the middle of the night. It was about three in the morning. I had been drinking after hours with a group of people that I had met at the bar that seemed interesting enough to be worth talking with a little longer, so I went back to their place and stuck around till about 4 in the morning. I like to watch the sun rise, so I left with enough time to be able to catch the sunrise.
I began walking from the house, unfamiliar with where I was and trying to get my bearings, I was beginning to return to hated sobriety, and had the very beginnings of that having slept in a whiskey bottle feeling, like the mouse in Dumbo.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a vehicle come up alongside me, or so I thought. I looked to my side, having sworn I saw it move. The strangest thing, was the car alongside me, that I swore had just parked next to me, looked unoperational. It had two flat tires and a bunch of tickets tucked under the windsheild wipers that were soaking wet, looking like they had been there long enough that the car was recognized to be abandoned.
I still wonder to this day, why had I seen the car driving… was I in some alternate dimension for a second…
I did this weird meditation thing, so this reads like hypnotic thought:
This partially PTSD flashbacks that happened during a thunder storm.
I am here, but I am not, I am here, but I am caught, I hear you, but I don’t, I exist, but I won’t ever be quite as exactly here, as you, whatever I do, I am not exactly where you are. I exist very far, far away, and also always right next to whoever I am next to. I am next to you, but I am not, I exist, but I can’t exist the way you think I can, we are never exactly in the same place.
I am right where I am, sort of, kind of, but I also exist distantly extended throughout space, drifting faceless, over many different times, many different places, that I have been throughout time. I see them all simultaneously.
I am drifting, drifting, drifting.
I am over and over split between places, parts of me, everywhere I have ever been, spread thin, spread out, far from each other, peices lost throughout the universe.
Foreshadowing: He asks me if I believe exactly what he believes, and I say no.
After spending the night in jail for public disturbance charges, a man gives me a ride to Galveston Texas. I have no idea before getting there what the story is behind this town, only that I vaguely remember hearing a Glen Cambell song about it back when I was still riding around in the back of my mother’s mini van.
He asks me what I am doing in Houston on the way there. I tell him I am trying to get out of Houston, he laughs and says he understands why. I tell him he doesn’t know the half of it, and he laughs, saying he does too, and that he used to be a security gaurd somewhere around here. He asks me if I am carrying anything he needs to know about in the car. I don’t.
We drive and right now I don’t remember how long it took, because I probably passed out from exhaustion while this story was occuring.
The next thing I remember occurs months later, because I was not driving my body, Amanda was.
The person I am with at the time, whom I am no longer with…. and I are walking on the highway… she is screaming at me about something.. in this memory I am not sure what she is screaming about… I know now she is angry because I was extremely drunk and got arrested and she had to comen get me out of jail again.
We are walking to get out of Galveston, and to go somewhere called Crystal Beach, which sounds…. nice… for idiotic reasons.
More on this later.
Swimming in the middle of the night, diver dives into pools of lack of light, chaotic swimming without putting up fight.
Chaotic in that there is no sight, site is absent, site is absent, dancing in the black expanse, swimmer exists in life beyond a trance.
Darting hands stretch out in front of no face, melting into outer space.
The nose dive undertaken without knowledge of nose, it is so cold, no feel to toes, swimming in the dark black night, existing only in the cold delight.
How have you adapted to the changes brought on by the Covid-19 pandemic?
I am more careful with my words now, because I never know who I am going to offend. I say this in response to the pandemic because whenever I speak about it, I wonder if I am talking to someone who lost someone during it, it has made me more conscious of others grief, and where they are in the process of grief.
Ever since the pandemic, I realize that I exist in a world with people who are also suffering at time, we all suffer on and off together, and I am more careful about what I say. That being said, I am learning, as of late, to be more conscious of what I say even than before, because I have been prone to rage on this very site. I am learning that I damage me by sending myself into fits of paranoia.
Finding the middle is key, honesty, without the hate, just critique minus the threat to belief or right to be.
I did a brief inquiry into the history of this house, and found nothing. So I don’t think the ghost has to do with the house, and what is strange is the same thing happened when I came back downstairs, so I am done as of now, talking about anything negative on this site. I will do my best to make this site a positive place, going forward, as I think this is something that is directed at me specifically and wants to me to be angry and miserable. I am no longer going to be serving whatever it is.
That is all for now, in this post anyway.
Peace and love
Damien.
I am self-assertion, I am ego insertion, I am screaming, I am forcing, I am driving, I am shoving, I am burning, don’t care if you are crying.
I am forcing.
I am forcing.
I am enforcing.
I am understanding.
I am under standing
I am demanding.
I am telling
I am forcing.
I am your soul’s theft.
I am every reason you remember this house you left.
speaking of her bird, named Hope, poor choice telling me this.
I have been thinking of killing that parrot ever since she told me it’s name, not because of what she said about it, but because the **** thing listens to me talk to myself. I hate that damn bird, it needed exactly what happened to it. It still looks exactly the same as it did before, except for one crucial detail, now hope is dead and stuffed, wonder how long it will take her to figure out she now has a stuffed parrot. Probably as long as it is going to take for me to figure out how to get the **** out of her before she kills me, which is not going to happen, she is not a good fighter.
Oh, look, a window, that was simple enough, looks like your hope is just like me, out the window, or yours is behind it.
Having to live my life, I am constantly confronted with thousands of things, that no one even notices, because I notice EVERYTHING. It is insane. Kind of like this jumble of images, this is a visual representation of the dizzying process that is my every day life, an intense focus on anything paid attention to, but otherwise complete blur of intensity, that makes you want to vomit, because it make you dizzy, like these images, this is close to how I see the world, when I am not calm. Close, but not as bad.
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.
You did?
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.
Daily writing prompt
When you were five, what did you want to be when you grew up?
I wanted to be free from being in the back of my own head, living a life of falsehood, bad faith pretending to be something I was not just because I thought society would not accept me, us, both of us. I am two people. I don’t care how insane that sounds. I have the thoughts and opinions of two people, and can give two completely separate sets of reactions. I am also me, and trapped in a girls body, but she needed me, she hates herself, because she doesn’t want to be a girl either. Neither of us did. I think we were sentenced to this, because we are both supposed to do something together, but I am crazy and have an overinflated sense of self-importance, so don’t listen to me.
I have no idea what question… oh yeah… when I grew up… I don’t know alive? I will settle for alive… not being dead is good.
Yeah, I am awake too, dork, I wake up when you wake up because I am your inner child.
Not everyone has an inner child that wakes up when they wake up.
Meh. Meh. Meh.
That’s really mature.
I know, I learned from you.
Do you like being alive again?
I saw that, you put a period at the end of that before putting the question, you forget I can do it too.
No I just wasn’t typing so I didn’t forget.. I was letting you talk.
Oh, wow, sweet.
So what do you have to say?
Nothing.
Thought so.
You thought so?
Yeah, I thought you weren’t going to talk to me for more than a couple seconds, actually. I am pretty psyched you are talking to me for more than five seconds.
Is it fun being in my body?
It’s way better than being nobody.
Then stop having a hissy fit about it on the internet?
True, I learned that from you though.
True, point taken.
Not even going to say it.
Good, I was thinking the same thing, and no one needs to hear that ****.
Hey, why don’t I have a last name again?
Because you have paranoid schizophrenia.
Then why do you have one?
Because I don’t give a flying **** if anyone messes with me.
The most terrifying thing, I have been thinking about all night is what if I am actually normal now that I have realized my paranoid delusions are what were killing me, making me live in a separate reality cast as a madman when that is not who I ever was, riddled by guilt of not saying no to drugs… what if this is a higher power talking to me, telling me it is my delusions, and the drugs and alcohol that perpetuated them, making me into something I am not… and now.. now I hear something higher… and I am just listening, actively, to the voice of something that loves me. What if it is just trying to save my life, by telling me to stay away from toxic things like drugs and alcohol, what if it is trying to change my fate through compelling my broken soul to change?
I have been casting my eyes to the stars at night, looking for a star that is different, anything that will say that something is speaking to me, that this is not all in my head. That is some sort trial that is supposed to bind my handto something that is tied to something that is much higher than I could ever have been in my whole life of vagrancy.
I am compelled to meditate in my room, in any room I am in, on this strange call I hear sometimes. It comes to me when I am shaking, or crying in the dark black of night, and the only thing that seems to cure it is church or the powers of over drugs and alcohol that I gain through recovery meetings.
I have always heard this strange music, in my head, when thinking about all this, a chaotic piecing together of sounds, when I think about all this. It sounds like the universe talking to me through sound, but I think I am just insane. I don’t know…
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 see no end, to your voice, see no end to no choice,
I hear you in my head, over and over,
Saying things you said, that I ignored, shut you out.
I would at the time rather have lived without
Hearing that you hated me, wished me to know with impunity, but now I wonder, and I fear,
Whether you were right and so my dear,
I am so sorry for shutting out
All words you said, because I live in doubt, had I listened, had I changed, would I still be in such pain??
Would we both be better now? If I stopped using then, had put it down, if I had agreed, done what you said, would I still be alone and dead inside
I am right now. I wish I had something not life without.
I was stupid. I was wrong, and now I wish I just had gone
Along with anything you did or said and maybe I would not wish I was dead.
See there was nothing to save, I was right, you were wrong, and you saved yourself from watching me slowly rip myself into a thousand pieces. I didn’t want to do anything with my **** life anyway.
I am getting better, and I don’t need you, anyway. I can do this without your help, because you never understood… I kept saying over and over I am done, and you would want to go out and have a drink with me. I can’t ****ing do that responsibly, and I told you that. OVER and OVER and OVER and you insisted you could teach me how to drink the right way????
I don’t want to drink anymore **** it. I am doing this now, and you are still saying you are worried about me, and you are still using????? HOW AM I THE BAD PERSON????? STOP CALLING ME.
THIS happened two weeks ago, de Soto.
No one calls you anymore.
That is not true, I have friends…. just not her. Just not her.
I used to quell spells from Hell, with spells from Hell, and I lived to tell, and it just as well, because I am thinking well, now, that I have learned something I am not trying to sell or tell to anyone really, just keeping it close, even though I am leary, and in perpetual queery, queerly thinking that I am doing something wrong, like a bad song, or a book too long.
I am still resisting, insisting, as I do, to trudge, on on and on.
I am of unsound mind and body still existing on moving forward, as I do because I am consumed with idea of tomb, punish me, baby.
I am crazy, but maybe I am not. Maybe my mind just runs hot, with dissing ease of soul displeased, and teased by my self, and I need to take my life off the shelf, away from the bottles and the sowing needles, of just as well, a life bound to life in eternal Hell.
That is what my friends say is the end to this wicked spell of perpetual defend and cry and die, and lie, and spy with the ever holding eye of crying dying mad and sad. Maybe I am not that bad after all. Maybe I can do this whole living thing, and maybe I am just punishing those around me, by sentencing sentences to the sound of my complaining, does that ring true to you,
I am trying to get somewhere, where I don’t know, but I am going to somewhere, which is not where I want to go. I have one objective, objection to where this mother****er thinks we are going, to object through exit part of the way there, so I don’t end up there, just close to there which is where I was going, the man driving just doesn’t know that, he can’t or else I would be going somewhere else which is not where I want to go. He wants to follow me, so he can hurt me, it seems anyway.
How many hours a day would you estimate you spent on your blog, including writing, reading, and commenting? If you didn’t blog, what would you do with the time you currently spend on your blog?
You are asking me how I item-ize my time. How long do I spend on here? Why? There is no distinction between the things that I do during the day. I do not have the ability to space things individually. In other words, I do not know and this question makes me uncomfortable.
If I didn’t blog, I would be doing the same thing I do on here, out loud outside. I talk to myself on here, because I have something wrong with me, and I don’t have an inner monologue. The things I think come out of my mouth, unless I am writing, then I get some sort of semblance of peace for a second, because the things I think about, which are often unorganized fear driven nightmares, are projected onto this screen instead.
I write on here, so that I don’t walk around my house talking to myself anymore. If I didn’t write on here, I would walk around somewhere talking to myself, all day, every day, on repeat for the rest of my **** life.
It does not get better if I quit doing anything. This is my life un-medicated forever.
Which is why I need to get back on medication, which I am going to do. Soon.
My perspective is dead itself, or the idea that I have the ability to even have perspective is dead. It died for me when I was eight years old, when I realized I do not live in reality.
Block of Wood
You happened a long time ago, and every day, because you are a metaphor for mental decay.
I am staring at a block of wood, I do not know how I came to be staring at a block of wood, I do not have any knowledge of how long I have been standing here, I do not know what time I started staring at the block of wood, or where it is placed in the universe, or if I am even in the universe at all right now. I am simply staring at a block of wood in the dark, and can’t tell what time it is. It is that rare time of day or night when it is indistinguishable whether it is in fact day or night. I am not sure, I have no perspective anymore. I long ago gave that up because I am constant propelled into a reality that I am not sure of the reality of, so I relate to nothing, which means I have no perspective. This is beginning to change, but goes right back when this happens, and I have to fight my way out of the dark cavern that is the Hell of my mind.
I do not know why I was staring at the block of wood. I just know that I swear, I swear on everything in me, that I began to see the atoms if I focused enough, that made up the wood itself. I know I am insane, that this is all just hallucination, and indication that I am doing something right, because my mind does this to me whenever I make any sort of progress, sends me forwards, backwards, longways, short ways, and to a position of staring at a block of wood and wondering if I can communicate with my cat better orally or through telepathy.
I am standing at the window, staring outside, and I see something strange.
I am drawn to it, and do not know why. It is a light in the distance, a blue light.
The light flickers on and off, in a strange pattern. It flickers three times, and seems to change when I stare at it.
I stare at it.
It switches on and of three times, separated my 30 seconds each time. This has been going on all night, I noticed it when I got up to go see what my cat was doing, he made a noise and stood by the door, and appeared to be transfixed by this light as well. We stood staring at it, sometimes I think my cat can hear what I think… I looked down at him to see what he thought. He looked back at me, making eye contact with me, three times. We would look at the light, watch it do its thing, and then make eye contact, until the whole thing had happened nine times.
I asked my cat what he thought about it, and he replied, it is taunts me.
I thought back to him, and he replied audibly this time. Taunt. It is taunting me. I am not sure whether he thought this because he was a cat, or because the light itself is taunting us. It stopped about 15 minutes ago. I don’t know if any of this was real.
Today is going to be strange.
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….
Any minute…
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…
Worry…
Please…
I can’t feel…
My.. knees…
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.
But, if I did it would be this blog, and helping my friend sell her items, helping my family start a re-sale business, so…
I guess it gave me a job?
Employer-self
Enabled by the world wide web of
Uncrossing the webs of lies of a liar.
Thank you internet, I appreciate it.
I wake up, hearing a street sweeper, my head rested against the glass door of a convenience store, I have 30 minutes, to get my stuff out of here, before the cops come and tell me it is illegal to sleep outside, and then make me leave, which I was doing anyway, and they make it take longer.
It is extremely hard to roll a sleeping bag up with a police officer asking you why you can’t do it faster, and trying to explain how you are missing the tips of three fingers, while listening to him laugh about how
“Well maybe, you shouldn’t have done drugs then!”
I know that now, didn’t know that then…
This lady comes up and asks me what I am doing, she is making this harder.
She tells me I need to get a job. I am somewhere else in my head thinking about how I wish I was a turtle, so I say,
“Do you know how long turtles live?”
She thinks this is some sort of veiled threat, so now I have ten minutes to get out of here, before the it takes one and a half hours and a ticket to get out of here instead of 20 minutes.
If I kick this chair, over and over till it breaks, and then say I am sorry over and over, then I did not make a mistake. I am not good at give and take, because it is all your fault, because you take, take, take. So I am going to have to break, break, break
This chair, right now.
SMASH.
I am not a fan of chairs anyway, they are stupid. I don’t like something telling me how to sit. I will sit, however I want. I don’t need a stupid chair.
Look at you, stupid chair, lying in the floor? Who is sitting up now?? Neither of us. I am sorry, by the way, someone nice probably made you, and I ruined it.
****.
I used to wash my hands a lot, when I was so elated, that I could have been instated to a psych ward for lack of a pillow because I hadn’t slept in days, because I was so happy
To pace around looking for a place to sleep where no one could
Steal everything I own, hurt me, kill me, or follow me for the rest of my life, so I decided to cause my own strive instead, sitting and consuming my own caustic poisons in dark rooms with friends in that shrouded themselves in clothing that hide their face, like I hid my face, because we hated ourselves so much we desired only to be not there at all, so high above you all… but not really….
How low can I go… I don’t know.. have you ever slept in 30 degree weather in New Mexico in the rain or sleet because you spent all your money on things that were not food or shelter?
Do you know what I felt there?
Over the line…
In decline…
Life resigned…
To a mind…..
In pain..
Life down..
The drain….. A human stain on the brain of a person who is now so different.. I am trying to forget, but have not yet, and maybe I shouldn’t, but I don’t know how to move on, and least for today.. I am singing different song..
“If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it.”
Willy wonka
Seventh Circle: Middle ring: In this ring are the suicides, who are transformed into gnarled thorny bushes and trees.
I am the time breaker of minds, the dealer of time in items, for the price of penny for your thoughts-
YOUR THOUGHTS ARE NOW MINE
How does it feel baby? Is it making you a little… crazy?
No, it’s not…..
I am……..
I like dimes… dimes are neat… I make dimes on the street… I don’t eat because meat is toxic… I like consuming……
METH
From them
Funny spelling, does it speak to you sweetheart?
You are so clever speaking to me with MY voice.
It’s his voice, you are nothing.
It’s my voice.
Sweet. A 20… I make more money when I sound funny… hahahahahahahah..
Look at me, I can run through life so free, no need of sleep or fear of pain, no wonder my life is
DOWN THE DRAIN
End transmission.
I am so excited to tell you that that Louise Swanson’s debut thriller End of Story is out today. It is published by Hodder & Stoughton. The year is 2035 and novels have been banned. However Eve is a writer, so for her it is impossible not to write, and to want to share fiction. […]
I used to be chained and bound, to tree with roots on poison ground, soiled with years of heroic consumption of heroin, meth alcohol, and death, and destruction.
I used to fire fire in vain effort to inject in vein with deathly effort, now instead I have developed a new addiction, a mesmerization with words and fiction, instead of misery mercy through diction. Thank you wordpress for keeping me sane, for saving my life, and keeping from destruction in vein in vain.
Mercy is found when, reflections are made, that bring the eye from ground to sky, that cast the eyes to that which is hire than anything I can fire in vain effort, to fill my blood that is so vital to my survival, with poison instead of being what it is, a gift of life to a soul in diseased strive.
Merci, Merci,
Mercy, Mercy.
I thank you from the misery of addicted souls everywhere
Damien.
Check out this kick ass, blog and recipe.
We eat very seasonally. In the spring we eat asparagus as often as we can, which is at least 3 or 4 times a week with spinach or green salad on the other days. During the summer it’s green beans and summer squash every day for months. For fall and most of the winter we… Chicken, […]
Photo by Jordan Benton on Pexels.com Clock’s movements quietly advance Calendar pages keep turning Realizing now, time so precious Yesterday, never returning Today, now galloping away Each moment quickly discarded Vanishing minutes tearing up Uncertain time left unguarded Tomorrow arrives much too soon Yesterday feeling incomplete Searching for one more treasured hour Empty […]
Thank you for your inspiring words, they keep me going, I was having a hard time over the last few days, and you keep me going in the right direction. This post is the only way I know to say thank you.
“Keep in mind that I’m crazy, won’t you?”
Girl with the dragon tattoo, Stieg Larsson
Daily writing prompt
What tattoo do you want and where would you put it?
Something like this, in tattoo form, right on the opposing side of my elbow, on both arms, because it reminds me why I don’t want to do drugs anymore.
You don’t listen to me, when I beg you, do not ****ing call me that ever again. If you do stay the **** away from me. I am not your girl, I never was, and if you want that GET THE **** away from me, because you will not get what you want from me. You will not get someone saying pretty things to you, that is not me, never ****ing was. Sorry, you don’t like it…. stay away.
I am not the universe’s gift to anyone, you don’t own me, and I will not do anything that is not good for me, and that includes listening you say that **** to me over and over and over, it is not some magical incantation that causes me to be what you want. **** you. *** your believe that I am something you own. I am no one’s. GET THE **** out with that ****.
I am sorry for the exposure to my… insanity. I am just being honest, and thank you for accepting me, it means the world. I am grateful. That is the word that describes me, a description of how I feel, not what I have wrong with me. I am so thankful.
There it is, the one word that describes me, blanked out, so I have no idea what it is, and you can guess the mystery behind its four lettered character.
The answer doesn’t matter. Even though the answer is the entire point of answering this question, or is it? Or is the point…. the characterization of a member of society who was before unclear?
Trigger warning: This is about drug seeking and effects on my ability to be confident in friendships I have, due to emotional immaturity. Drugs mentioned. Do not read if sensitive to this kind of thing.
For no particular reason, I am very sad right now, so I think about the particles in the universe, I think about pieces of sand, so tiny, and so together, part of a body of sand, and I long to be a particle of sand, that is part of something else, and never alone, but I am always alone now, and I am so sad.
I say no particular reason, but that is a lie, I know exactly the reason why I am alone, I chose this every time I used the phone to call someone to pack away all the feelings I have, everything I want to say with acquisition instead of inquisitive mission to know anyone but those who are on a mission, now I am in a peculiar position. I don’t know how to make friends, and I know I already have them, but I don’t know how to have them, I don’t know what to do next, so I am stuck in the land of anxious guess, addicted to pain, and in a land of washing rain, why can’t it wash away the stains on my damaged brain. I feel like I will always be insane.
In vein. In vain. In vein. In pain. Disdain. No more pain. Please send me soul cleansing rain.
I know you don’t know me, but I am lonely, and I want to know you, whoever you are, whoever is lonely too.
I am very sad, and want someone just like you. I don’t know who you are, I don’t know why, but you are like me, and we cry with similar cut eyes.
I hope you are okay, I am not. My head is hurting, my hands are hot.
My heart is broken, I am alone, and I hope you hang on, person who is also by unanswered phone. Please don’t be sad, I am sad too.
I don’r want for you anything I feel too.
Can we just pretend for today? Just pretend that we already know each other so you will be okay?
Need an outlet, I am spinning tales of death to distract myself from what I am really thinking. It is 9:24 on the east coast……. and I am sitting staring into the darkness of this screen, thinking of how much I long for something, out of sickness…. I long for you… oh spindle of silence,
Heroin, oh heroin, I love you so,
Heroin, oh heroin, why must I say no?
Why, must I long for you for the sweet kiss of death every night at this time?
It is an insane release of tension to write dark horror. I don’t care what anyone thinks… I am going to do what I want now. I am an ***.
I am trying to be more honest and am not going to do the whole fake it thing, I am still the same **** with dark thoughts, I think the key is to find outlets for my rage issues and not hurt myself or bite people’s heads off. I think it is a good outlet for repressed aggression and makes it easier for me to not lash out at people around me. I am very passive aggressive and have a lot of repressed rage I channel into writing…
Sorry.
Damien
“Man is the vainest of all creatures that have their being upon earth.”
Homer, The odyssey
I used to live in the woods, really I did. I spent an entire 8 months in the Oregon dunes, somewhere and everywhere in Oregon. I lived there and survived by clamming, and panhandling for food money, and don’t feel bad for me, I made 200 dollars a day, so very promptly after getting there, I developed a nasty attraction to bitter rocks that ate a hole through my hands and my soul.
They chased me to California. I walked there, I think I mentioned that before, high as a kite, I flew on the feet of the dragon, and the wings of fallen dreams to the state of California, with an angel of mercy sent to me whose name ironically was Chris, he sang like a bird the entire way. He was a beautiful singer. My arrogance and pride caused me to walk away, literally from one of the kindest human beings I have ever met in my life, without even saying goodbye. He screamed after me, and I ran, fleeing kindness for California, where I would meet what I was running to, an empire of pain on the sullied streets, I thought I desired so much. I am sorry Chris, you were kind to me, and I should have at least said goodbye.
What was the best compliment you’ve received?
I no longer care about bringing praise to myself, but on shifting the eyes of those who experience the pain that was so real to me for so long. I want to help those who experience pain, any pain, like me, away from that pain towards something, anything that stops that pain, even if it is just for a second, if it can be for a second or for an hour, or forever. I want to help, because that is what I feel like something else higher than me wants me to do, so when I am inspired to, I am doing this, as an atonement for a life of selfishness, when people tell me they see this. I am happy because that means I am doing the right thing, the thing I know I am supposed to do instead of serving me, like I used to.
Look not to what I say or do, but to the source of where my work leads you, away from the pain in my words, and at what saves me, whatever you think that is. I am asking you to always reflect on joy and see pain, but not dwell on it.
I am complimented when my work helps someone, because then and only then do I know I am doing what I am supposed to.
I just look. I am constantly watching, and have been granted the ability to continue to be. I talk to the powers that be all the time. They speak back because I talk to them, nothing more nothing less. I am very prone to screaming at the sky, joking with sky and smiling at the sky. I also talk to the air, to the birds, to animals, to the stars, and to every human who talks to me. I fear no one because I feel that my point is to be until I am not. I have always felt this way.
I falter in that I am an addict. I assert my will when trying to acquire things that make me forget that I see things that no one notices, because they aren’t watching. I almost died a lot in my life, I am very prone to foxhole prayers, making deals with the spirit in the sky and then breaking them. I think that has been my problem. I am hoping that through me writing this, people get to see what I saw, see it is real, and understand the screaming night criers out there, our reality is just as real we are just awake at hours people aren’t and we listen to a force no one else bothered to ask what to do, or we are consumed by another one which overpowers you and drives to act in pure will assertion, I have called this Misery thus far. It is the desire to force will to get what you want at all cost, it is pure will assertion that dominates a person and forces everything to bend to it.
Misery is derived from the word miser. That is what I have been, that is what I fight to change.
When thinking about this the word avarice is pounding in my mind, don’t know why but, I looked it up on this etymology site and this is what came up.
This all seems to suggest to me that will assertion is what is to be avoided and that if we flow with ebb and pull of the universe it will be revealed what we should do.
I borrowed time, I know this now, I experienced more of it than most people. I did not realize at the time that I was not borrowing it… well not exactly, I was being lent extra time by something that deals in a currency of spare change. I was being lent time in exchange for something, a deal made with something beyond my understanding, that knew me better than I knew myself, than I know myself now. This force knows everyone. It understands everything, and you can make deals with it, without knowing even. You can make deadly bargains that you don’t know the nature of that are not dealt to you with good or bad intention, simply intention itself, raw intention, raw will, there are forces in this universe, propelled in a direction of will, of will to be as they are supposed to, and if you fight those forces, you will experience, pain.
It is this pain which I fight to reverse now. I have realized recently that the assertion of deadly force of dominance is the opposite of what the universe desires. I have been made aware by the pulling in directions, that there is a force which punishes the assertion of will over the forces of a balanced system. This is all that I know right now.
See Clearly
You’re going on a cross-country trip. Airplane, train, bus, car, or bike?
The sound of automation is mesmerizing, the clicking, the shuffling, the beeping the whirring, shoving and blended talking of all those on the train, who do not know me, and don’t know anything about my past. They have no judgement of me, preconceived or otherwise, busy with their own business. I fade into the background, and watch a world I left behind for a dance with a siren who wanted to rip my soul from my eyes.
My eyes are free now, and look around, not dominated by watching her, they are free to be their own, not called to the service of a master, they watch as the passengers go about their quiet business, and I am inspired by their composure, ability to be so normal, the train is a zen garden of little people, not screaming in overinflated hot blow up doll chaos, they keep to themselves, and I keep to mine, in my mind. I am thinking about leaving this place, misery, and doing something else, thinking and sure that this time, I mean it, because she should not own my words anymore.
I am going to board a new train of thought, and then hopefully get myself together enough to go on a train and do something else.
How would you rate your confidence level?
10. I am very very fast. I can run faster than anyone I know, most notably faster than this guy whose girlfriend paid me back my… rent money. I loaned it to him.. because I am a nice person? It was 400 dollars I got for standing in traffic at a light, and I am not the kind of person who looks good doing that… so sometimes they pay me to move, it takes a couple hours to make 400 dollars, like 8.
I stood there for 8 hours and had enough to pay the rent for the month or um… make tragic mistakes, you know dice roll. I decided to play double or nothing with my friend who is my business associate at well, well after this, his girl was my business associate and he was my **** for about 2 months. He wanted the power back from his girl.
I have a very um… aggressive approach to business, so people give me what I want.
Being impervious to death helps too… which is why I am turning my life around because I am realizing how I write this what an *** I was, because I think that something saved me all these times, and I proceeded to give it the finger, so it chopped my fingers off? Or the tips of three of them? I don’t think He or them or it really did that… I think it was MRSA and me being a ****.
Moral of the story, I am an arrogant **** , but I am trying to tone that down so… 5 on confidence..
I am standing on a corner waiting for you, and you tell me not to move, because you want to be able to find me, but what you are really saying is you don’t trust me.
Three hours later, I am running around looking for you, asking anyone and everyone where you are and if they have seen you, and hysterically crying, unable to fully run because I am almost choking on how much I love you, and how sorry I am that I wanted any of this at all.
You come up to me, and I ask if you got it, and you tell me you did, and then tell me it’s yours because I moved.. I am sick and about to throw up because I am addicted to heroin, and I am covered in sweat, you say I smell like I have been cheating on you. I start laughing thinking your kidding, and you’re not, you go in the bathroom and use the shit, and tell me to **** myself.
It was my ****ing money. It was my ****. It was my tears cried over you that cost me being sick the whole day. I am so done, but I am not, not yet, but soon.
I am beginning to feel better, hands that perpetually around my own neck, ringing it, and choking without realizing that I can just let go. I am so tired, exhausted from the chaotic pacing in the middle of the night, to find a safe place. I am reminded of my friend from California, and a night we spent huddled together under his jacket, crying while smoking to stay awake, we wanted to sleep so bad, our eyes heavy with the act of finding safety, away from the burning abandoned building were fires were started and blamed on drug addicts who fell asleep with fires started. No one knows the truth, there is something or someone out here, and it is hunting us, and I am afraid all the time, so I spread a rumor that I am dangerous, hiding behind perceptions of people like me, it keeps people away enough that I can survive.
I am prone to foxhole prayers, praying to anything that will listen, saying over and over, please help me, if you help me I am done… but I am not done, because I can’t rest, because it is not safe, because they come while you sleep. I don’t know who they are, I just know people I know are disappearing and they keep pointing fingers at us, and it is not true, we love each other, and are so afraid, and would do anything to sleep. I am so tired.
It’s pouring rain, I have been walking a long time, pacing, in the darkness and lamenting the fact that is raining and I am cold, and wet and tired, in this moment I forget the day’s events. I forget begging the universe for a shower, saying I was thirsty and could use a drink of water, crying for someone to help me.
My head is very loud, racing thoughts that sometimes threaten to drive me mad, screaming at me, and a lot of the time it is hard to hear anything at all. I am trapped in my own head sometimes, a prisoner to my racing thoughts, chained to the walls of my mind like an inmate. My hands are hot, because I have my fists clenched, my palms are bleeding on both hands, and they are burning, the rain feels good on my skin, kissing it with the raindrops, it takes me out of my angry ranting thoughts and reminds me of earlier in the day. I think I am crying, but can’t tell the difference between my tears and the rain, the only indication that I am crying is that I feel like I am gasping for air and have been not able to catch my breath.
This is just a memory I have, I don’t know what it is about. I am not sure.
There is a gate, it is up ahead of me. I open it and I sit down, I am compelled to look around, and start looking through a flower patch, there are bones in it. I start crying again, and remember someone I knew who I was looking for, for some reason I think these might be their bones. Something is telling me this, I do not know why. I feel like I am being watched, but can’t keep myself from falling forward and curling up into a ball, I am crying harder now.
I don’t know who is hunting us, more and more of my friends disappear every day and it is not by any of our hands. I have lost five friends recently, and they have never found the bodies, and I am suspicious because I don’t think they died of overdoses, and I know it was not by my hands or anyone else I knows hands, but it is being made to look like that, it is being made to look like the deranged lunatics are taking each other out, and I am afraid, because I don’t know who or what is behind this, but it terrifies me. I am afraid to sleep so I engage in something I thought I told myself I would stop doing, so I don’t fall asleep. I feel like I am going throw up.
Rushing through everything, to serve you, the way you wanted it.
I devoted my whole life to you, now I am haunted, by the hole, you burned
In my soul, and mind, in bind, with time, maybe I can put you behind, like the piano we pushed down the street, in the middle of the night, and then the fight we had,
Because you know I am bad?
I wanted it to be fair, but you didn’t care, my **** your ****
Your **** Your ****
Too bad, so sad, push your own piano next time, hunny.
What makes you most anxious?
Time makes me scream, it makes me dream of things that don’t make sense or cents, that is not true liar, you have made plenty of money in time.
Yeah, but I spent it all on dimes.. I traded it in for dimes at the cash machine.
I congratulate me on a day where I was only an ***hole last night, and complimented random individuals in the food store aggressively.
They seemed confused.
I have OCD, along with the other litany of problems I have already listed here, heh. I got my hair cut, which is awesome because I didn’t have to pay someone in drugs to shave it all off because homeless people can’t cut hair, and I wasn’t so itchy that this would seem like a necessary choice, so yay me for getting my haircut and getting a normal hair cut so I don’t have to shave my head again. That sucked, I think I mentioned the whole mohawk **** thing… but if I didn’t some ***hole shaved my head into a split in half mohawk, and told everyone to look for mohawk ****.
Short sweet, and very fun for mohawk ****. I got a lot of sympathy, and a lot of free items.. and they found out the wrath of mohawk ****. Then mohawk **** needed to leave, because there was a rumor that I had a twin and one of us was a girl and the other was a guy and the only difference was the voice… convenient… till they found out we were both the same person and it was me beating my ass not my twin brother or vice versa… very bad con…
I threw my phone in the river at around the same time because I thought someone tapped it looking for mohawk **** because tricking junkies is a high crime… and people really give a **** about that kind of thing…. or something I thought when I was way too high…
My dad is a really great person, we had a really good time, he was talking to me about his life, making me laugh, and we went to a really good restaurant and I told him I am done with drugs and booze the rest of my life. I also got to make plans with my uncle to see him at Christmas for the first time in ten years, and say I was sorry for being a lying ***hole.
All in all a successful day for mohawk ****, or me with a shorter hair cut that looks nothing like that at all.
Peace
Damien.
I just got back from hanging out with my dad, and it is cool how different things are now that I am trying to makes things right, I talked to him about all the chaos that I caused, continue to cause because I am prone to delusions, and how sorry I am. I noticed that saying things like this keep me from drinking, keep me coming back to a place, where I can stop beating myself up and are making it possible for me to walk out of the woods where I kept taking the wrong path on purpose and falling in random holes because I thought I was going to find secret gold in rocks I found on the ground.
I think the metaphor for drug addiction and eating rocks and drinking poison instead of doing the simple thing of eating food and drinking water is hilarious. I can’t believe how much my thinking has changed. It’s funny I was convinced everyone is out to get me when this is more true…
Them
Meth
Same word re-arranged…
Item
Time
Same word re-arranged.
Heroin
Hero in pushed together it forms a drug
Divided it references a hero in me
Heroine with an everlasting e it makes me a hero for saving my own life.
Funny right?
I used to just consume ****ing other things, and for some reason thought if I drank water sometimes, I would feel okay. I think that is why I was losing pieces of my hands… stupid…
It’s kind of cool though… You don’t need the tips of all of your fingers, to be functional. The right thumb thing was the worst.. I am missing half of it.
Damien
What makes you most anxious?
I am such a ****.
I just made a really bad joke, and feel bad about it. I suck at life.
Explanation: Shocking, I am trusted to not have to leave, if there is no one here to watch me…
Now this…
Pond, not Stream of Chaos
I am a duck, apparently, because unknowingly
I have been teaching myself to be less
BANG EXPLODE
Like that, so now I can be alone, and not have people
I used to be constantly floating from place to place,
In a race with the human race to consume my tomb in the form of drugs and doom and alcohol which I would viciously consume, in doomed ferocious style, in front of all I know
sowing shame and guilt while also showing pain and guilt through vicious attack on self but also on others eyes, making people cry without knowing why because I am selfish. I am becoming not
I think… I guess.. don’t know…
_________________________________________________
I am a duck in a pond, that is just okay enough with me for now, to not drown
I am not going down
Because I don’t want to
Un-spun I am no longer undone.
I am glad to be trusted, un-dusted, still rusted, but dusting off.
I have been courted all my life, to dance with loaded gun or held knife at my Neck, by myself, on a shelf, which of course is what I think because, baby I ****ing stink, I smell booze, in heart and soul, still drunk but dry, sometimes I know.
I reek of anger, creaking madness, rocking back and forth epic sadness, dark reflection, not staring at mirror, but bashing crashing and dying in epic fear.
I am loaded gun, I am dark resistance, I am tragic, insistence, that though I am dry, I am GOD. I am responsible for divining rod, punishing me, I am insistence on trying to be my own
Maker
Breaker
Soul forsaken, breaking me, tragically, beginning to see how epic my failure is.. or simply that I am an addict who needs a higher power.
Facts.
I loved you, any of you who was with me, I thought… but now I don’t know, because it always ends the same
You are insane
THEN GO! I KNOW. I KNOW. I DON’T CARE. I DON’T NEED YOU. NEVER DID NEVER WILL I HAVE MYSELF
All you need is love..
All you need is to shut the **** up.
I need no one, but myself. I need to put the drugs and alcohol on the shelf, that is what I need to do, and I can’t do that with them, I can’t know that I am not going to do this again.
I can’t even be my own friend damn it.
I know, Damien.
I break up with me, every day.
I know, Damien.
I know, Amanda.
I know, me.
I know both of us.
I hate me too.
How the **** am I supposed to like anyone else if I can’t even look in the mirror, I hate everything and everyone because this sucks and it is hard, and you make me nervous because I know everyone is thinking the same damn thing that I think about me
YOU SUCK YOU SUCK YOU SUCK You suck?
That’s what you think?
That’s what we think. They think. I think.
Do you think this is fun for anyone, who the **** would want to be around this? I don’t even want to and I am this…
Then stop doing it.
Oh.
What makes you most anxious?
I named myself See Clearly because that is not what I do, I do not see clearly at all, because my ego it is tall, or it used to be I mean, because I am a liar, a whiner and a wine-r, or not really because I prefer whiskey, or anything that is risky like heroin or meth or how about crack or death? You know things like those, things you stick in mouth or nose, or suck through glass, because I want to die, and that’s not true, what I really aim to do is..
Get the *** away from all of you, because you make me anxious, because you hate me, or maybe I do.. I don’t know… but I feel it when it you look at me please ****ing go. I am telling you go away, **** it! I hate the idea of panic and judgement, I hate you and everything you meant
To say, but didn’t, I can hear you thinking **** it, or maybe that is me? I don’t know the difference…
I guess… it’s me… what makes me anxious is me…
and addiction and lack of control and framed photos of animals in suits..
I sleep in oblivion because obviously sleep must be partially that
Because I can’t remember it and that is oblivion right?
Hmm… being dead or asleep, meaning having no power and receiving pardon or amnesty?
Sound familiar?
***hole.
Just realized I called myself my own ex-girlfriend…
Not intentional…
I just told people the truth so now I am going to die, I just told people the truth so now I have to STAB OUT BOTH MY EYES
I don’t know why I do this…
Because you love death’s kiss… ****
I don’t though really? Do I?
Yes, clearly…
My heart is pounding really fast… and I feel like I am going to crash into everything around me and I am dying but that is not real and I feel like I want.
Jump into a moving car.
SCAR SCAR SCAR SCAR I am very far away from reality, circling a
DRAIN?
DRAIN
Dying human stain…. remove remove remove
remove remove me… from this..
You think this is going to work don’t you?
Yes.
No.
GO SLOW SLOW SLOW SLOW SLOW
In the darkness of night, no one can really see me, because I am not there at all, I am death’s call, I am the act of stall. I am the toll of the bell of the night, I am the activity of a dying fight, I am the passing of anxiety, I am the feeling dying slowly like everyone else, I am cares cast away on a shelf where they can’t touch me, because I am far away, they can’t touch you dumb*** they don’t know where you are… and aren’t interested in you and you are just trying to write to save you from drinking what is wrong with that?
Okay.
His name was Chris which is ironic, because he is a christian, so I think it is a set up somehow, like somehow someone is sending someone to spy on me and naming the characters they send after me in mocking style, because obviously I am that important right? Didn’t realize at the time, how ****ing narcissistic that was, and it is only now, that the paranoia is starting to fade, that there is not some secret plot to take me down specifically, because I am just a lying drug addict alcoholic, and I am not sure why being a serial killer sounded better than that… I have no idea.. it made me feel less powerless… I think.
I am very angry at myself about all this, because looking back at it, I realize how much of *** I was… how even though I thought I was always getting ripped of and deserved so much better, how much better could you expect your life to be when you are con-artist who panhandles for heroin, and basically tries to make people afraid to not give you money. I used to make 200 dollars a day doing this, the key was to look like you are going to rob them for more than they give you freely, and then if you get caught, you are a pretty girl, and you change your voice, and Damien is your ex boyfriend who put you up to it, and he hits you and you just want to get away.
I was such a piece of ****.
Damien
I love ya, hunny, and it shows, or showed, when things were going well, you know? When we were loaded with lots of cash, and didn’t have to worry about you stealing my ****ing stash, but now I am sorry sweetie, gotta go,
Because you know what, sorry, baby, we’re in a rut and as much as I love ya, you ****ing ****! I hate your stupid ugly guts, so take my money sweetie, I don’t need it, hope you like it, hope you keep it for longer than one day, because sorry dear, I am staying away.
I am walking to California, and so my dear, I am going to warn you if you come near me, I can say I will bite your head off, and make you pay, because I have a rare gift don’t you see and sounding like guy I still have these? So now with the power of two in one I am pimp and whore with loaded gun.
I will take out your eye, don’t touch me ****er, and if you say anything I will make sure your luck
Is in the ER ER ER ER
Damien/Amanda
What activities do you lose yourself in?
I am very back and forth, a torrent of pain whirling around in a sink, that I kept pulling the stopper of, and I would let parts of me flush down it, not realizing that I don’t get them back.
I pulled the drain over and over, chopping off pieces in my madness, I would let parts of me fall into the sink of destruction watching as I slowly disappeared and using it as an excuse to drink or go soo…….
High into the sky, I felt lost, but free, but I got stuck up there, so high up there.. floating.. in nothingness..
I with real eyes, with non-blurred vision now, that the state of elation I was looking for, was inside me all along, I get the same high now, sometimes, when I am not doing poorly, and I frequently am, but I am trying.. through this, writing to you, imaginary person, and I love you so much for saving my life.
I don’t always remember this, in my cycle of drain life, but I remember it enough for it to be a small way to get out of the drain.
Something set me off, and now I am insane, I am searching for a cause, but there is not one, not that I know of, because it was something small, that should not cause fear at all, but you sick my mind is thick with sickness, un-perceived by me, so I have to do this sometimes, write about
NOTHING, unpacking misery stuffed into a soul filled with everything and
NOTHING I am you, I hate everything you do, you are stupid too, you do nothing right, you are a sick loser, in perpetually fight, hiding in dark night.
STOP IT **** it.
Please stop it? Please?
If I get on my knees, will you stop it?
I like it when you..
**** you.
**** you. **** you. **** you. I am not listening anymore. I am not listening to you, because you are not real. I am a human being with feelings that are real.
YOU ARE PATHETIC.
YOU are pathetic, you are not me, speak for yourself buddy, not mine.
I am done with you.
Good, I tricked you, it worked.
End. Meditation.
Better?
Kind of.
Meditations death of resentment.
What activities do you lose yourself in?
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
HURTING
Me.
Now, I am trying to be different.
ER ER ER __________________________________________________
I am sitting at the table with women who have joined my table, which was mine alone, sitting by myself for a reason… anyway..
They sit down with me, pushing me to the side, of my own **** booth and begin to tell me that they have an inside man, a woman damn it not an inside man. I tell them I don’t speak English in English, they tell me they know I am lying. I know I am lying, but I don’t want to hear this ****. I wish I could give them back the food, that I am not sure is safe to eat now, because they gave it to me.
I eat it anyway, and they tell me it is fine, but not to eat there without them, because the food is not safe, they have an inside man. I ask them why they eat it. They tell me it is safe to consume poison if you only take a small bit at a time. I think they were insane, but I don’t eat Chinese food anymore, I never know what is in it.
“The world’s a hard place, Danny. It don’t care. It don’t hate you and me, but it don’t love us, either. Terrible things happen in the world, and they’re things no one can explain. Good people die in bad, painful ways and leave the folks that love them all alone. Sometimes it seems like it’s only the bad people who stay healthy and prosper. The world don’t love you, but your momma does and so do I.” ― Stephen King, The Shining
The tortured inn keeper, thinks no one who stays at the inn cares about the inn, thinking that the ins and outs of those without the responsibility of caring for the inn indicate a lack of caring,
That is really coming from within, a manifestation coming from the desire to
GET OUT
Of one’s self, pushing those around
GET OUT NO
I am you
The caretaker is a drinker, they think this is because they take such good care of the inn, that they deserve a reward
AN ETERNAL REWARD
Manifesting in alcohol consumption or consuming
POISON
They consume it on the regular, but it is not important the frequency just that it eats their
SOUL
ER ER ER
SAILING
THROUGH TIME
ER ER ER
Back now.
The innkeeper talks to me about keeping fires, about the duties of keeping an inn, and about the need to do things to keep the inn, like make it a little easier, by consuming poison.
I am a frequenter of many motels, so I have met many innkeepers, such tortured, kind hearts, that do not know their goodness.
I forget sometimes, that I have glasses, getting up in the middle of the night and crashing into walls because I did not put them on. I walk without them frequently and cannot see clearly, because I have gone without them before, for years when in active addiction.
The eyes of others, guide me, but I am paranoid, debating internally with universe, I question intention constantly, seeing things they don’t and debating with myself what is real while they are just walking down a street undisturbed, knowing none of what I am doing in my mind, while they walk peacefully next to me.
I clean my lenses, real glasses not metaphoric often, caught in an OCD futility of see clearly, forgetting that I see things others do not, and I am left to wonder, am I noticing things that matter or do they only matter to me?
I talk to those who no one hears, because no one notices them, they stand on street corners, muttering into what they presume is the dark night, but I hear them, and engage them. To me they speak of us not only of them, they have the same reality as me, and they seek to defend
It to those who say it is not real, knowing that it is, in their mind they feel,
So I say to you are they really that wrong, hearing voices, and the gong of death? Are their cries of madness from a reality left? Or simply different because they see things you cannot? Is their reality poison or are they simply caught? Captivated by thing you hear not?
Distracted by things you can’t see, that we notice with fervent impunity?
What activities do you lose yourself in?
I am standing on a street corner, this time metaphoric, not real.
I am looking into nothing, or myself, whichever one you choose, overcome
By voices, this time internal, not external, not externalized, not demons with painted on despise eyes, not lies or falsehoods, but inner truths, painted because I am listening to me and to you. I am listening closely, with intention to hear, because I have spent a long time, not doing so, with desire to unfeel.
I am wondering what it means, what I do, now that I am focused and listening to you. I am wondering if there is anything, anything at all to any of this for a personal who notices it all. I do not know where I fit in, if I do at all.
I am standing in the middle of also on the side. Existing in the middle, because before I did not have the time, I did not make a choice to listen before, to me, and to you, and am wondering simply in this place, where I stand, what am I to do?
I am told over and over, just watch and to be quiet, but I am confounded with the presence of a mind that exists in riot. I am not trying to assert myself, not this time, but simply to understand, what is the place for my dark mind?
I am not sure sometimes, if I am being guided by the hands of the universe not individually as some lunatic with some mission of importance, but simply some wind-watcher, air listener, tragic tour guide of no one, standing outside in the middle of the night debating shadows that cast on the walls of the houses of the towns I walk through, or right now live in.
I am awoken, by the fighting of very literal cats outside my window, and my mother’s dog is yelled for by my stepfather, he can’t find her, she woke up and he took her to the bathroom and she took off and I can hear outside my window, so I wake up, even though he is focused on something else, I tell him, what is happening and it helped him understand her, and helped him find her.
I wonder how many times before, was I too high or drunk to even hear the cats fighting, and what this all means.
Is there some value to my lunacy, that helps the universe in any way?
I hear things, I hear phrases, they come to me, constantly. I get stuck on them, a decoder of messages coming into my mind, that could mean something or nothing, who knows, but I decode them on here because it helps me personally deal with them, and not shout them on street corners, or talk to myself while pacing around in decaying madness. I noticed with this one, that I put in the title, reckless abandon, that if it spelled like the above, wreck less abandon, that it means something different.
Wreck
the broken remains of something wrecked or otherwise ruined. (dictionary.com)
The broken remains of something of lower rank or importance
Wreck less Abandon
Read this way
Someone of perceived lesser importance, removes prior restraints causing lesser importance, and turns to mission of more importance, which is removing inhibitions or restraints, or the chains of addiction and helps the abandoned or lost of society.
Just a thought, through language dissection of schizophrenic thoughts.
I am sitting by the water again. I am looking out into the ever expanding nothing, I say ever expanding because the lights of the streetlights are going in and out and in and out next to me. They turn on and off, not on a timer but timed randomly with something. I have noticed that they respond to my movement, they turn on and off as if communicating with something in me, but I do not know what it is. They seem to respond to certain kinds of thought, but it is uneasy to place. I am not sure what it is. There turning on and off varies not by the kind of thought being positive or negative, that does not matter, they respond to recognition and the level to which the thought is thought, to intensity not to the kind of intensity.
I move towards them and it seems to me, like they are dancing with me. They turn on and of and on and off on my skin, and it is almost as if I can feel a warmness, that is not heat related. It is a warmness felt in something else, I feel it in my soul. I do not know what that means.
I just know that when I move the lights turn on and off as I think they are going to. I walk and they follow me, they light my way or shade it.
I do not know how to deal with this, what to do about it.
I just know I do not walk in the dark ever.
The mist ascends over the river in the dark light absent night of a missing moon, that is not missed, simply missing, a vacant blankness with no space indicated that marks its blankness, no spot where a moon would even be, a blank canvas of lack of light.
I am standing staring out over the water, knowing only that there is even water there, because I am familiar with the place I am. Other than my presence of mind and awareness of where I am placed in time, there is no indicating factors that would suggest that I am anywhere at all, the night is black and I see nothing in front of me, and nothing below me.
I stare forward into the nothingness, keeping my presence of mind, by meditating on the painful cold that pounds in my skin, the rain is falling down on my hands and arms now, I say it that way.. because they are bare, I can’t feel it touch the rest of me.
I look out over the water, the only thing letting me know there is any separation between me and any of this, any perceiving instead of being oneness, is the fact that I remember being a being that sees.
There are slight beings of light on the water now, they dance in the nothing, looking like shadows, which is strange, because there is nothing to cast shadow on, they are dark, as dark as shadow and reflecting to my eyes or to my knowing, not sure which, and they speak to me, somehow I know them, I know their pain. They pace across the water saying nothing, and I can feel their pain, and then, it all fades, a light comes on, and I look up at a street light, there must have been a power outage.
A man is sitting on a bench alone, he asks me how long I have been there, says he didn’t know there was someone else watching, like him, the dancing on the water. I tell him I don’t know, and we leave it at that. He walks away.
Extremely disturbing content: Meditation for myself- do not read if triggered by anything for lovers of abstract dark horror, not intended for those triggered by anything.
Explanation:
Trigger Warning: Mentions drug/alcohol abuse to show mental change in writer who is becoming less arrogant and better informed in recovery
Trigger Warning: I lied, this is a hallucination powered by Misery
Abstracting Abstract of Soul decay soul facts, revealed in meditating on meditative state of I am not so great but getting better.
and the realization of my word of fixation on fixes and the complications it placed on placement in reality..
Or I am an addict who lied to themselves… or I am an addict and engaged in addict thinking and am trying to live differently, by seeing clearly that I don’t know everything.
I am. I was. I am not the same. I do not have the same thoughts. I do not have the same name. I have gone. I have left. I am permanently changed, I have severed all ties, I have cut out my eyes, I am never the same, permanently change, removal of stain. I have changed my stupid name. I am done, un-spun rewind-ed, rebind-ed, reminded, unconfined, un-twined
Mind designed by me, arrogant yes, but not, just addict caught in re-wiring, and desiring new thought, because FIRST THOUGHT WRONG.
Trigger Warning: About sex workers and drug addiction, and feelings of longing for love, but also needing drugs in active addiction of heroin/speed/alcoholic addict physically dependent on substances to remain not physically ill…About selling love for money, and the effect it has on the soul and damaging effect on ability to find real love.
Item Eyes See Itemization of Love, which is not sent from above
Tick- prick- stick-pin prick- Oh, that felt, like-
I will never be loved until I love myself,
But also like I need no one else other than me, because I can buy love with time and money, minutes spent on standing on a corner holding a sign or getting in cars with strangers, or peddling
POISON
I will never be loved until I love myself
I will never be loved until I love myself
I hate myself
I hate myself
I hate myself
Stop. The clock will not move forward in a state of
Click.
Click.
Look back, it is important to remember and forgive not remember. remember. remember. romance the drug. resent. romance the drug. use.
Need to find a middle ground, recognize what you did, admit it and move on.
Click go.
TRIGGER WARNING: About sex workers or prostitution, and revelation of moments of clarity, mentions drug use and is very graphic do not read if you can’t handle this. I am writing for my own recovery, and to cleanse my own mind and soul.
You were the last man to touch me for free, and now they will never touch me again, because I realize, I charged with the charge of a heart scarred by being untrue to me. I did not want to be with any of you at all. I was not that kind of… person. I charged for the scars to my arms, to my soul, to the eternal burning hole in everything that it is to be me, and give things heroically in falsehood because what I was really doing was buying letters carved in human skin that told stories of heroic-ness, but what I was really doing was sleeping with people for free drugs… nothing more nothing less.
We search your basement hideout for your **** which you already did, I know because we did it together, but you don’t remember this, because we were together for a second, being together in love with each other for the brief second that rocks are thrown on table,
Rock, paper scissor
Scissor, I cut you out of my life, toxic friend, and all men, that make me exchange sex for bitter rocks, cast at my soul.
du·bi·ous adjective 1. hesitating or doubting. “Alex looked dubious, but complied”
Similar: doubtful, uncertain, unsure, in doubt, hesitant, undecided, unsettled, unconfirmed, undetermined, indefinite, unresolved, up in the air, wavering, vacillating, irresolute, in a quandary, in a dilemma, on the horns of a dilemma, skeptical, suspicious, iffy
Dictionary.com
I am up to the dubious task of trying to do life on live’s terms, although I am doubtful I will succeed, uncertain that the methods employed by others, will work for me, because this whole life on life’s terms thing…. is ****ing hard, and how can a bunch of people who seem as unsure about everything as me, living in doubt and hesitant to do anything without first consuming a mind altering substance…. How can I remain undecided and unsettled by something that is not unconfirmed… It is not undetermined, it has history and its outcomes are definite not indefinite… I have seen it work for other people, why couldn’t it work for me?
Although, I feel unresolved….or up in the air, wavering back and forth…. back and forth… vacillating from I am an alcoholic… to maybe… I could just have one…irresolute in my resolve to absolve from the consumption of this toxic solvent, that solves nothing… but…
I can not live my whole life in quandary, I am in a dilemma, that I have been in my whole life, my tempter the vicious disease of addiction puts me on the horns of a dilemma, pitted against the metaphorical demon of addiction…
Although I may remain skeptical, suspicious and iffy of the outcome, I decide to not drink just for today.
Breathtaking, most focus on love in this, not theft of life, air stealing theft.
I always think of you today, and want to drink because I used to drink today
Because honestly, I used to ****ing drink everyday, because I am an alcoholic, But that dig at my pride is unnecessary, just trying to be more honest, so no one stabs me in the back… which is funny because I am the master of vicious drunk attack, which is why I have no ****ing friends.
They aren’t dead like yours, they won, they are still having fun doing what I can’t because I came undone, and now my life is devoted to becoming un-spun, so I guess I won? But, sometimes it’s not ****ing fun, and I feel like I am done… I just want to… that’s a lie….
STUPID ***HOLE, what do you want to do die?
No, I want to poke out both of my eyes. Or stab myself in the
Back? Front? Chest?
What like your favorite artist?
What a conquest.
**** You
“There is something infantile in the presumption that somebody else has a responsibility to give your life meaning and point… The truly adult view, by contrast, is that our life is as meaningful, as full and as wonderful as we choose to make it.”
Richard Dawkins, The god Delusion
I had a friend of mine really help me today, they told me something that helped me realize why I have been having such a hard time. I think that I have to do everything the right way the first time, if I don’t I get frustrated and experience feelings of PTSD from trauma from addiction and I start to hallucinate, and think paranoid thoughts like the bananas in the advertising in the store are there to taunt me, because the people who run the store know I am a thief and know that I am there and are doing this at me to taunt me and people like me, because they hate us and its a conspiracy against us, perpetrated by them, who is everyone who is not us.
My friend told me that this is just symptom of PTSD and that it will get better if I learn to forgive myself gradually and then the guilt will go away which is actually behind these episodes. My point being that I was able to take a step back from this paranoid thinking, and realize what was going on, and take myself out it to the point where it stopped happening, this has never happened for me before. I am so happy for this being a thing for me. I really thought this was not ever possible. I thought I was not normal and not ever going to be able to permanently change, because I was broken in some way, my friend told me that is just addict thinking, not unique to me, and just saved me from ruining my own day.
Damien
See Clearly- Trigger warning- mentions drug use
Mentions drug use- for my healing- not trying to trigger anyone- direct mention of drug use for my own healing.
Margin Eyes for Marginalized Margins that stand on the sidelines doing lines so we lalala can’t hear you
I was so high high high above you
oh so lovely to be free from humanity because I couldn’t deal with how much I was afraid of being hurt that I hurt those around me, because I was bullied as a child for having learning disabilities and hydrocephalus and schizophrenia and bipolar disorder, and depression and anxiety and narcissistic personality disorder and PTSD and anxiety and depression and tendencies towards aggression.
I am also an *** who makes excuses for the fact that I am an addict who wanted to get drunk and high and makes excuses for the fact that I am selfish and loved getting drunk and high so much I would make any excuse I could to continue doing shots, lines, smoking, toking, doing hits… than giving a **** about anyone but me.
There is no excuse for me, I am sorry.
Trying to get over it…
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.
Begin simulation.
GO.
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.
Okay, fine.
Are you superstitious?
Yes, clearly.
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.
If you have the time, please click the above link, because I feel like it shows the dire situation facing this poor state, that has such a complicated face already. I read this and almost started crying because I used to live there on the streets, because I traveled there to get away from my ex. I saw such a dual face, the human beings that are stuck out there on the streets want help not available to them a lot of the time because of the way drugs are treated in California, and the way handouts are valued over in-treatment programs, rehab and recovery.
There are many like me, who were still using on skid row because it is easier to get a dealer to give credit then it is to get a person to buy a sandwich. Just saying. Some people want to quit and don’t have the strength to figure out how, they are addicts not to blame because they have a disease called addiction which causes a deviant response to alcohol or drugs, deviant in that it makes alcoholics react differently than others to introducing alcohol into the body, making it a stimulant for their sick brains, rather than a depressant. This is a paraphrase of literature on the subject.
We are sick, deranged, strange creatures, not bad people, and I cry for California’s streets and for the lack of another thing that propelled positive forces there, the dying of their farms.
So sad…
an abortion. I think that is why you were so easily banished from the story, because now I can’t hear you anymore, and I don’t think you are there anymore, and strangely, it feels better, maybe I am learning something after all, not just being an *** online. You were an inner demon.
Rei was Justin, you were their child or the child she could have had with Diane who’s name was Pat.
Demon slayer, I like the sound of that, because demons bug the **** out of me.
Okay, guess I am alone again.
NO YOU’RE NOT JERK
I knew that? But, I guess I forgot.
Of course.
Peace. I am okay now, and everything is about me, and I just hit my vape way too hard. Ow… dizzy.
So sorry I have no choice but to not pay attention to what I say fighting to go away in my mind, while I speak my voice sounding like awkward door creak, screaming cry or breaking glass, pound on floor, or kicking ***, awkward and unpleasant I am, I don’t know why anyone stands to be around me at all, why they won’t let me heed the siren’s call of death that comes to me in night.
I don’t know why they want me to stay here, just to fight with myself and with them, stupid ideas pushed by the desire to defend nothing but my desire to be right and to be in constant fight, desiring only to hurt and push away so alone I forever stay, everyone please go away… I can’t handle you in any way.
I am weak and you are not, my temper is quick, it make me rot in corners where I sit alone, hate voices and hate the phone, I don’t get it. You say you do, but how can you, that is not true. It makes no sense, it really doesn’t… Sometimes I wish I simply wasn’t……
I don’t know why I can’t say anything I really mean without being incredibly mean, I mean to say I do not know how to disagree and guess it shows because I either hide or kill and don’t like no’s or yes-es or opinions that differ from mine, and prone to silence or telling lies, and so I have been resigned all my life to sit and stew and not dare ever talk to any of you, because I fear my biting tongue, and ever present lack of resistance, utter insistence on being right and love of the act of fight. I am a jerk, a pain, a whiner a crier, a lover of war, of pain and fire. I am mean and I am ruthless, but my arguments you see are not with you, I do not hate anything you do.
They are with me, and what I lack, and my constant desire for attack and death smack. I do not know what to say, so usually I just go away, sit alone and drink or use, and my soul I sear with cold abuse, I am trying but I suck at this, I do not want to do this, and I miss things I never had because I live in fear and I can’t stop because I can’t drink beer or shoot up drugs, and it is not solved with getting hugs or sitting peacefully on rugs or talking to people you say will help me, they do not know the hell it is to be me
I am just simply without words, and I mean it when I tell you it really hurts living alone because you can’t do life, living in constant strife and being tempted to cut with knife, the very fabrics of your fragile life.
I am trying but I can’t right now seem to see what makes you so happy and so free, I am stuck to sit and to think that maybe if I cannot think of anything else, at least I know, I am trying, hope it shows.
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 have maintained the anonymity of my real identity not just because I am a liar. I am a liar, but I also thoroughly ruined my life to the point where the anonymity is necessary because there are certain people who are very angry with me who I do not want to have contact with while I am trying to recover from addiction and try to make some sort of effort to be a decent human being. I have faced the very real ramifications of a life spent back and forth on the streets and in houses funded by unsavory methods. I desire the anonymity because there are certain friends I have that are very unsavory characters, who want to kick my *** for lack of a better word. I faced all the situations in this story minus actually having to hurt anyone. I wrote about that as a way to get justice in a fictional way, and get out repressed rage when what really happened was I had to turn the other cheek and feel like a coward because I walked away instead of standing up for myself.
Damien
The quiet ramifications of a life of pushing everyone away, or I am surrounded by silence because I pushed everyone away.
I hate it because it reminds me of what a failure I am, I have lived most of my life, lying to myself. I am unhappy because I am alone, and have spent my life drug/alcohol seeking. I do not have any friends, my friends I had are all dead or don’t talk to me anymore, so I sit alone all day and write on here and I hate it and love it at the same time. I love that I am no longer surrounded by the negativity I was surrounding me before, which I don’t want, but it also reminds me what I have missed because of my choices. I chose to dedicate my entire life to drugs and alcohol a magnum opus of failure. I am alone all the time forced to reflect on all the bad choices I have made.
I lived as a homeless person, squatter, bum, panhandler, conartist and petty criminal for the last 17 years. I was on a constant mission to fuel only my addiction while obtaining a master’s degree in public policy which I have used as a way to skirt the law. I have not committed any serious crimes. I have panhandled, lied, cheated, gambled, and conned my way through life. That is the truth, the full truth and no lies.
Damien.
I am finally beginning to like myself for the first time in my entire life. I have never liked myself my entire life, I did not realize this till ju
