I no longer know what the goal of the site is, I write horror fiction, and love letters to myself.
This site is a tool to facilitate the act of seeing clearly, written by hands that used to hurt myself.
Explanation: I am Damien, I speak to my split personality Amanda. I am two people in love with each other, and I am okay with that now.
I have paranoid schizophrenia, narcissistic personality disorder, bipolar II-manic/depressive- rapid cycling, depression, anxiety, hydrocepholus, narcissistic personality disorder suffering from alcoholism, drug addiction, alcoholic. with OCD and PTSD- was addicted to heroin, meth, crack, alcohol, cocaine, prescription pills.
I am drug addict/alcoholic/dual diagnosis/ex-homeless person.
Through dark horror fiction I rake the muck of the lives of street addicts.
Or in plain English this is an epic poem/novel about addiction told about low bottom addicts in horror style.
I was at the end of my rope, so sad that I would choke on air, staring at the ground, fixating on the act of down.
Who are you?
How do you find peace?
What brings to the land of beneath?
He had no name, he had no place, he was like me, his life a race, a quest for food, for place to be, he now lives in a house with me.
Diane took him in, and now he lives, on a bed with Diane and her kids.
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 ****?
Than what the **** are you talking about???
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.
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.
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?
Maddening one…you and your eternal suspicions – I can never escape you. Ah but tell me, Hera, just what can you do about all this? Nothing. Only estrange yourself from me a little more – and all the worse for you. If what you say is true, that must be my pleasure. Now go sit down. Be quiet now. Obey my orders, for fear the gods, however many Olympus holds, are powerless to protect you when I come to throttle you with my irresistible hands.
Homer, The Iliad, Book 1, lines 674-683.
I got an interesting message this morning, relayed to me by a friend who I will not mention the name of that a friend named Deborah or Diane wants to see her daughter, funny… why now?
The girl is 18, so she can do what she wants, so I am debating whether or not to tell her, she does not remember this woman, so there is no point to this, other than to damage my daughter, which I think is the intention, that and to reveal to Rei, who probably already knows this because she reads this thing, that I am a liar, which she also already knows, so I don’t know what the **** this woman wants, and I kind of want to find out, but not enough to tell my daughter yet, because sadly I think she would go because I think this **** that I married is giving her things I am not okay with, and if that is true, she is going to remember the very rare set of skills that started our oh, pleasant demonic flirtation, and it will be completely justified, wonderfully completely justified.
PS. Sorry baby, you knew I was crazy to begin with, I am done with you.
I am trying so hard to deal with everything, I have never made it this long without drinking/using in my entire life. I am not saying this because I want to do it now, I don’t… finally. I have to learn to get past everything that kills me, for those around me if nothing else. I think that is the only way I can learn to make sense of any of this, it is insane. I am not sure why I did not die while still using/drinking. I do not think it has anything to do with me deserving any of this.
The only thing I can think, that I am coming to think, is that this made it possible for me, in the only way I can to change, so that I can finally do something worthwhile, because it will be the first thing I do for another human being, genuinely, in my entire life, if nothing else, I just want to do something to make my existence worth the pain it brought into this world, to make it up to the universe for having spared me specifically, because I really really appreciate that, and do not deserve any of it.
She was a drinker of glasses of Chardonnay and also partial to Rei, so we invited her to come over and play. Now at her apartment she will permanently stay, not because she’s there, but because her leg is bare of skin.
I cut it a little too thin I guess, she had such a pretty dress, I must confess, that though she cried… I could not hide….
WE NEED TO GO!! STOP STARING AT THE BODY!!!
Oh, sweetheart, your poor heart…
We are demons of madness, we are lovers of torture, we are have-rs of more, sir or ma’am, we kill you where you stand, we collect the hearts of those damned with addiction, we are not fiction, we are illusion, we are a writer’s conclusion that her pain was too much, we are the lovers of stuff, we are the idea of suffering, we are love buffering, we are hate, we are greed, we are death seed. We are non-love, we are the chopping off wings of dove, we are sent from below, we are the dirt, we are human show, we are the existence of decay, we are the act of to make sway.
We are desire to go away. We are the acting of crying, we are hearts dying.
IF YOU DON’T SHUT YOUR MOUTH YOU WON’T LIKE WHAT COMES NEXT!
We are the act of hexing, we are perplexing because we are a question, we are not real, we are the desire to not feel. We are the onion un-peeling. We are the takers of make. We are the act of forsake.