Luminance

Did you lose your focus, baby?

Sadness Has a Way Out

Yes, I did because I am ****ing insane.

I am your brain on… resentment, just like drugs, but not very ****ing fun, but, oh so entertaining aren’t I?

No, you are just a lunatic talking to yourself.

You are so very negative.

You are the one talking to yourself, ***hole.

I love having your voice in my head.

It is my head.

No, it is our head.

No, it is Amanda’s and my head. You are a visitor, who they say is unwelcome, you just come to talk to me, because we are such good friends, and since we don’t want drugs anymore, you are no longer useful resentment.

Ouch.

I am getting good at this, baby. You can leave now.

Advertisement

I like pain, I like pain, I like pain.

It is always on my……..

Have from flowers, from Hell.

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 Ghost Piano, the missing fingers, the missing hands

Oregon, or your gone, Or I am gone, and you never left

For once, in my life

Let me be what I want to be

You do not win, you are not free, you live with us, with her and me, you do not win, you are not free. There is not one there are two of us, you do not kill the both of us. You can stay, but so can we.

You have to go.

Why don’t you ask her, honey? Why don’t you, huh? She doesn’t want you.

I don’t want you, and it is my choice who leaves and who stays, it is my mind, I am not her slave. Why do you think you were the voice of resentment?

See, I am not the ****ing bad guy, for ****ing once, it is clear I am not the ****ing bad guy. Thank you.

I am faceless, I am formless, I am forlorn, I am reality scorned, by hating my face, my human forn, I am tearing, wearing, blarring, self-hatred, eating at my own skin, I am resent, everything I am, the skin I am in.

I am screaming chaotic soul tearing of the form I am wearing, and forced to be in. I am loving something higher, but hating me, I am resentment meant specifically at me, I am why won’t she let me be.

You are pathetic, you are weak, you all that….

SHUT THE **** UP. I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU. Do you have any idea what it feels like to be the one who feels like you are divorced from your own human form???! Do you really? Do you think I am the lucky one? Do you really? I don’t think you do, because if I was you, I would sound just as pathetic as you do.

Ouch.

Yeah, I know I win.

Forgive yourself, **** you

Daily writing prompt

What’s one small improvement you can make in your life?

View all responses

This is not a small improvement, I don’t do small improvements, I do procrastination for 20 years, and then large improvements. I spent all of my life devoted to hard drugs and alcohol, and now I am so done, and tired of stroking my own fractured ego. I need a freaking life. I don’t hate myself anymore, so I am trying to make whatever changes I need to, and making amends with my family. My mother is a really good person, and is helping me a lot. I wrote her as Diane, because I resented the idea of being helped at all, but I am seeing clearly now that she is trying to help me because she loves me. I know now that needing help, and accepting it is a strength not a weakness.

I think the small improvement I can make is try being less of an ***hole.

That sounds like a large improvement, I don’t know. Maybe one day I will get my **** together. I hope so, I am very ****ing lonely.

Yours,

See Clearly

Share a story about someone who had a positive impact on your life.

Glowing with posotivity

In a dark room, in the depths of hell, lives an addict with pain that is just swell, or swelling, of the mind of the soul, and also of the brain, which caused them to go insane, and come to think strange thoughts, like I don’t need them, don’t need anything or anyone, anything at

All

They are the ones that are smaller then me, though I am so tiny.

My arms are cut by pin pricked misery, and so I have learned a great skill you see. I can just look in the mirror and talk to

MYSELF, or type it on the internet, or scream at them at the top of my lungs, it is really so much fun, see sweet Ms. Re…. we have just won.

Without you my life is hell, and though I live to tell, I can tell you I am quite unwell, I only talk to myself, and dream of bottles no longer on my shelf, and dirty pinging needles, and rocks that taste like batteries, it is quite sad, being this mad…

I have realized now I am insane, and that it was not my disdain for you that caused me to want to leave you there crying on my arm chair, playing with your pretty dark hair, you are on my brain, my mind, at the tip of my tongue, because I realize that I do not miss being spun as much as I miss fun.

My heart did beat for you once, and became slightly inflamed, fighting narcissism and posion in my veins.

For now I am alone, and maybe someday will bring myself out of myself, and finally use a phone to call someone other than myself.

I have known you a thousand times, but noticed nothing, not a thing about you, because I worhipped something that stripped all the color from my world.

You, and all like you

Paint me like you saw me, a black and white rendering of a heart posessed by darkness and moral decay.

I told her and all like her, to stay away, far away from me, desiring nothing, other than what fueled me…

Pushing everything and everyone away, far, far away, now I am left alone.

I knew this would happen, and did not care, addicted to the now

Now now now

More more more

I complain, but know I did this to me, I was so joy us and O so free.

I was addicted to

I am alone.

I am right along side of you.

To be or not to be?

Distended and extended

I am a time eater.

Left with nothing now, I look back, because I am stuck in the creation of forward.

You are not the creator of reality.

I know, but I am the shaper of my future, or one of them anyway.

She liked me better than you.

That sounds like you are five years old.

You are perpetually five years old.

I don’t even know how to respond to that, because you are saying it to illicit some sort of response, **** and I don’t want to walk into it, and my other half is not here for some reason.

Do you see?

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am looking at you, but I am not, I am engaged in negative thought, which is not out of the ordinary.

I see you, but I don’t. I want to, but I won’t. That is the whole problem. I am never able to accept… never is so final..

In my mind, exists a battle, between up and down, sound and silence.

I met you and began to think instantly of the holy trinity, not because of anything to do with religion, but because you seemed to me to be so divine there appeared to be three of you.

This is how you looked to me, not how you appeared to others

I had always questioned my ability to be like those who looked like me, and you affirmed every doubt I had, because I did not envy you, but wanted only to be someone you wanted, and you wanted someone the opposite of you.

I am not the opposite of you, but I am not sure what that means, because I am not what I am either. I am nothing, I think. I am constantly changing, reflecting only the light of other’s saving grace. I am in a place of constant lostness, at least when staring at your face.

Color me rainbow

Color me dark

I am forgetting where I start, and

Where Hell ends, looking instead at the ends of your hair, I am not all there.

I should not stare.

I am tragic hole in a human’s soul.

I am insane.

I am nothing.

I am nothing.

I must be something, but I am nothing.

I am the abandonment of happiness, in exchange for soul, solely eaten by darkness, I am infestation of human soul, solely consumed by dark quest.

In the dark night, a knight on a chess board eats my chest. In the darkness, a night eats my chess piece, I am the infestation of a mind lost.

I am the cost of being in a unhealthy relationship.

I relate to nothing.

I am nothing.

I loved her so much

I loved her so much

I loved her so little, because I am not capable of love.

I am the act of push, then shove.

I miss you, greatly. I was consumed by you.

Please, please, please, let this feeling go away.

Standing at the ocean, a human being looks out into the all consuming darkness….

It’s so easy, so easy to set you off, to set you off, watch.

I am tunnel vision.

I am simply on a mission to save myself.

Oh, look at you, so sad, too bad, she hurts me so much..

Works so well, works so well, oh voice of Hell.

I am the show of I am right.

Got you, you want to talk about how you are so much better, how is making me want to hurt myself so much better, I am part of the person you claim to be fully and completely, and this is how you treat yourself?????

You are not me.

You want to chase me around, and then pretend that you are not, like somehow I am doing this to you????? I am you. I am you. I am you. You are attacking you.

I am the METHod to your madness.

Oh, that’s healthy.

You are telling me, what is healthy???

You are listening to a song about speed right now..

But, you are me, and whether you like it or not, you are me, and you can’t make me go away, *****.

That is why I don’t talk to you.

Very mature.

You are talking to me about maturity.

Clearly.

No comment.

Another day in paradise

“Oh, think twice, ’cause it’s another day for you and me in paradise”

Phil Collins

I can stay, I can stay, which is insane I have to say, but who cares, I think if nothing else, the fact that I am insane has become very a parent… ahahahhahhahha.

Macbeth, Macbeth, I am part of my own soul’s death, I am the death of the part that is killing me, I am victor in a kingdom of a Misery, which is my own body, or ours, sorry Amanda, I don’t know what to call you anymore.

That is because I am basically you now.

So when I am talking to you am I just talking to me?

Exactly.

Well, how do I know the difference?

You don’t, neither do I, it happens all the time remember?

Yeah, actually now I do.

Are you done with her?

So it was me obsessed with her?

Yeah, I think so, she was something about self-image, which I think is you not me.

Aren’t we the same thing though?

Yeah, but you are more ego driven because you are newer and on defense mode.

So, I have a built in excuse for being an ***hole, excellent.

This is gross, I am out.

Me too.

****

This is the one who she calls Amanda. I am not her, never was, never will be, I just used her pretty face to get things she wanted to, and I hated every minute, every second of everything we would do, and now we don’t, so if she wants to pretend to be the victim, crying I am female, look at me feel bad for me, I am fragile, feel bad for me, don’t even try it, I am not stupid, I don’t buy it. I am the one driving the vehicle, and I don’t like you, never did, never will, not happening anymore, you are nothing to me.

Wow, okay, I guess, thank you?

You’re welcome, but that was mostly for me.

That makes it even better.

I am only here because I am not, I am fear saved only by someone else keeping me alive. I am two souls in one body, and one is half-dead.

Mouth full, mouth full, choking on noise, I like hate read through play play play with…

I am going to punch you in the face.

The sweet embrace of erase, is the solution to all missing space, and all that matters not, I like fear when it runs through paths that are wrought with fear and choas ascending, I like deer with feet that are trending towards running into cars,

Cars. cars. cars.

What is mine, is really ours.

I am not.

You seem better, face so…

If you say it I will poke you in the eye.

That sounds fun, so will I.

Sounds like blindness, oh see clearly.

I hate you so very much.

I loooooovveee… you, but mostly us. us. us.

I am the fear of stay. I am the thought of lack of… pay.

I have to pay you to stay in your own brain? I like it.

Does it ever feel like you are forgetting which one is talking?

That is because I am winning.

I am self-hatred, read so so clearly.

I am talking, but really not, I am hate read in pain so hot.

I am a condescending self-defending ***hole, who just got tired of this, you lose, to bad, so sad, I am mad, glad, bad,

Going away now…

I spit green fire. I am beautiful. I am a super human, born of strength.

Is that supposed to be me? Loser.. it doesn’t look like me or anyone we know..

I painted you in a way you hate.

This isn’t even painted, it is a digital image re-touch thing.

Don’t you hate stupidity??

Yes.

Double win.

You have nothing of mine, because you do not need it, you are so divine, need no refining touch, so I painted you badly, sadly, tragically so, I love you, though I don’t know you, never will, so sad, too bad, my sweet princess, we will never go to the far below, because I am trying to get over…

Over and over and over, up and out of the of the Hell, that is life without, anyone but me, I do not…

Yes, you do liar.

I am.

I know this, that is why I said it.

We are doing the same thing we used to do at the bar, but this time we are alone, without other people doing it too, and without alcohol or drugs… how does it feel?

Like I am cutting myself off at the knees, but I kind of like it?

Good… me too.

I wonder if this will ever get better…

I don’t think it can get worse than this, so I think we will either die, or it will get better… or it will stay just this bad forever and ever…

How bad is this?

I don’t know, it has always been this… so how bad is it really?

I am still alive? I guess that means it is okay enough…

Whining is so unattractive it can’t be read, it is invisible instead.

Isn’t it lovely, isn’t it great?

So sorry baby, I can’t relate, I am addicted to madness, to pain and slow death, that is what I have been given.

I call it time theft.

This is my life which I was given, from the time I was born, ticking time clock was ticking. I am to be thankful, I am to be glad, I am to serve everyone, because there lives are sad, I am to shut up, I am to be down.

I am to always smile, only laugh, never frown.

I am to speak kindly.

I am sorry that I cannot do, I hate everything around, sorry, baby even you.

---

Miss labeled

I want different cards, or I want to quit playing. I tried all my life in every way, to quit playing, every attempt came with failure, and people glad I was alive, while I sat like always wanting to off my life.

---

Label me chaos,

I am a game of chicken played in red and blue, not green, but blue.

I don’t know what to do, except scream, because I don’t want any of this, never did, never will, and no matter how much I try, I am not allowed to quit playing.

Label me doubt, label me contention, because I love to scream and shout. I love the human word, because I in perpetual fight to be not heard, because you know what I really don’t care.

Fried Chicken

Label death, they already did, at eight, already dead, ticking, ticking, so thankful, so grateful, so sad, too bad, already gone, gone, gone.

---

Bright

I lived my whole entire life, on rock bottom from eight to now, on gravel, and sometimes jagged rock, crawling up. I was born with something, for those who do not know that gave me a life expectancy of 21.

21, 21, 21

Wish sometimes, that I had lost not won.

My life is all silver linings, and people say I should be thankful, greatful, for what, more time than 21 years?

Because I am somehow supposed to be thankful to have less time than most people???

Gravel. I am so fond of you. I know everything about every curvature, every outline, of the pleasant rocks at the bottom of the path that is my life, which I went off, because I am sorry…

I don’t like cutting my feet on rocks very much.

Tell me a story, make it true, make it all about everything you do

I am dark, I am stark, I am vacant vacation from tragic elated state of decline

Toss me please, I am too quiet. I am addicted to the act of rioting sole, soul unsound, bound to condescending pretending to be okay,

Okay, yes please stay, so I can hate you, always and forever, be my friend, so we can fight about nothing over and over again.

I am addicted to the sound of my own voice, addicted to the idea that I had no choice, but to do exactly what I did,

RUIN MY **** life.

I shine with the act of this is mine.

I never look behind, I never look forward.

I am lilly pads, I don’t have eyes.

I can’t sit still, must make ill, must engage in perpetual

Dance

Dance

Dance

With dark fate, with my own hate, of myself, I don’t know why, don’t care anymore really, this was fun to write that is all.

Bite me.

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.

Staring into the murky depths

We stare forward because we always stare forward, we face the way we always have, we stare forward into the water, looking forward never back

I am standing on the beach alone, or so I think… It is the middle of the day, but it is misty and the ocean gatherers have cleared about because it feels like it is about to rain, the mist is thick and penetrating, cold enough that I am beginning to be unable to feel my fingers. The water is warmer than the air, I wade into the water, and allow the water to warm my tingling skin, and strangely feel someone, somewhere looking at me, strange….

There is nothing to our actions, we exist as we always do, doing what we do because we do it

We look forward because we do

Do not make this about something larger, we are not what you lack

We stare forward into the distance

It is your own soul that you attack

I could have sworn there was no one there.. but I can feel it… a human being staring at me.. I look around and still can’t see anyone, but can feel the warm presence of someone there. It feels like I am being watched by someone, maybe from far away. I look around at the birds, and they are still, not moving, not making any sounds. They stand perfectly still, as if watching someone too….

I remain standing there for I don’t even know how long, and at this point, I am not sure how much time has passed by, but I feel like I can hear the birds thinking to me, they do not think like human beings do, they think in a sort of group think, collective conscious, letting me know that nothing abnormal is going on, at least not with them.

I distinctly feel someone behind me, and look around, I still see no one, but I swear I can feel someone watching me. At this point I am so unsure of the time, and so overtaken by this strange sense of urgency, I leave the beach and run up to the nearest sign of humanity, of any sign of life, I find a white fence, and thankfully for a second, while I stand choking on my own aloneness, my own discomfort, trying to get some sort of semblance of normal feeling, I again feel someone standing behind me.

She crouches down and looks deep into my eyes, her skin glowing with an unearthly angelicness…

You heard them to, she says to me, not with her mouth, she thinks it at me, she thinks it over and over frantically, with a desperateness that lets me know that at least for this one moment, there is some peace in my universe of aloneness, that for one moment, even if it is just that one moment, someone, even if they are kidding me, even if they are making fun of me, is existing alongside me in a hallucination…

She starts laughing……….

I start laughing…. and for one moment, one moment in my entire life, I know what it is like to have someone who understands me.

I drop my wallet, I drop my wallet and look down, and wouldn’t care… I wouldn’t care, except there is something in my wallet that I think I need so I grab it and it falls out… she looks down and walks away………

I ruin everything in my life.

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.

Eat me.

You told me this, and encouraged me to do the same, hating my words, and my inner disdain, my distaste for you and for myself, loving nothing but bottle on shelf.

You talked of love and of forgetting the past, of making things different, trying to make me laugh, of making things better and making things last, of wondering why I would always want alone, at last.

You followed me everywhere, my continuous tale, wanted me nowhere, chased to no avail.

I am not your dog, now I am out of your grasp, no more short leash, and now we both remember how to laugh.

I hope you like your new girl, and that you leave me be, I don’t want to be friends, leave me to be free.

PTSD FLASHBACKS: The Strangeness of the Universe, the Multiverse or the Dance of the Chaotic Chasers

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.

You are beauty, I am error, you are beauty, I am lack, I am perpetual soul attack.

EXPLICIT CONTENT: I am an recovering addict, alcoholic, this is a review of myself, and not meant to comment on the life choices of anyone else, in other words, not meant to hurt anyone, but my own feelings.

What brings you to this dark corner?

Why do you want to walk in the life turned upside down?

You are so perfect, why do you walk on turned over ground?

I have watched many women, who walk through the lands of the damned, wishing for the change of the tragic souls trapped in a miserable land of their own making…

Indicated in the tragic fracture between human beings and the understanding of what they do

Seen here

Miser able

I am the able miser, but I chose to not understand.

I am the miser able, but I chose to break and bend.

I am miserable, I chose to complain and drain.

I am the miserable, into my vein I fire pain.

I am the miser able, I chose to break my heart.

I fire dark or light colored poison without fear that I will stop my heart.

In my veins pumps a poision, poised to bring my death.

I am the miser able, to live in perpetual time theft.

Addict Resentment Haunted House

Haunted House

Standing in front of the mirror, as a child, not right now, not here.

Well, obviously, you are not a child right now, right here.

Are you sure?

Yes, even though you act like one, you are not one.

Unfortunately, because I would be the funniest child ever.

That already happened, and we were pretty funny, if terrifying is funny.

I am the creature in the bushes.

I am my own nightmares.

I am denial of self.

I am life spent on shelf.

---

I am the ghostly figure in my childhood night terrors.

I am a child standing in front of a mirror, staring into space, or looking in a mirror, or staring into space.

I see my face now, not then but now.

I was afraid of this person that looked kind of like me, but older that I said had done things I would never do, because I was eight and doing heroin was bad.

I think now that I might have been able to see me now, but that is probably some delusion or something.

I am running from my own reflection, because I hate being my own reflection.

Shatter

I used to run from someone, who also ran from me.

I was blind and couldn’t see the person chasing me was me, and the person I was chasing was the same. The person I stood laughing on the corner with, buying tragic things with, and staining my soul with was always my own reflection.

I am the fear of shedding light.

Two and the same, one and the same, not a stain, but a reflection.

Color me, abstract, color me dark.

Color me so I don’t see in the dark.

I am lack of sight.

I am out of mind.

I am sole of shoe, stuck in gum of decline.

I am no longer, but I look back in time.

I am sole of shoe stuck in what is still left in mind.

Every time I went looking for missing things, that they stole, every time I went looking for missing things that they stole

I was looking for missing things I had already used or lost.

They, I was the cost of a tragic decision to deny who I was for half my life.

I am better now, that I am no longer denying who I was and am.

Where do you run?

If it kills me, it kills me.

If it kills me, I am stronger.

If it kills you, you are dead, and it won’t kill you, it has no hands.

It has a hand in my death.

That is because we let it.

To change, sparring change, not hands outtretched for hand outs

I run in Hell, well Misery but same thing, a spiritual pergatory of nothingness, of absence, that is what it is, they say in certain texts that the lack of the divine is Hell, that is what Misery is.

What do you run from?

Me.

You are the lack of the divine?

I am fear incarnate.

You are a human being experiencing fear, you are not fear or pain or death, but a human being experiencing those things.

Okay.

The creature under the bed is me

I used to have this hate for this one cat, that poops in the bedroom I sleep in, that is not mine, so I had no right to be mad at the cat, but I used to think he was doing it to me or at me, because I am ****ing insane and everything is at me or to me.

I now remember something hilarious.

I have vomitted in almost every state in the US, in front of people in broad day light, when I was homeless we used the whole world as our toilet because we did not have inside bathrooms.

I am literally this cat, and have metaphorically done what he is doing, I just have to clean it up because I am metaphorically cleaning up the bed I made.

Facts.

You are in every memory I have for seven years.

Staring at me, with hatred

Hate red

Hate read in every action you take towards me, every moment of every day daunted by daunting distrust, by judgement, and pain, that was partly my doing

But

Also yours, and you could have left any time you wanted by the way, and I left all the time, and you followed me.

The over-inflated discolored balloon, of shame, disdain, and madness

I saw you looking at me the whole time, like a medusa, the snake that you thought I was being images cast out of my own head, to scare you away.

I am past this in a lot of ways, but everything reminds me of you, and what I thought you were, because you are in every memory I have for seven years, and I wonder how much of my mental illness getting worse was because of that.

Do you climb the sky?

Yes, I do with my I.

I come from the ground, and clear I move, making loud sound.

I climb, I grow, creature of light, I climb the sky in star flight, in the light of stars, I dance for you, I am a lighting lightning storm, that quickly moves.

In the stars I frantic dance, and if watch, you gain the chance, to see the sky frantic ballet, of dancing legs of bones that play

In shoes of light without trap of skin, they dance in bones spread sky thin.

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.

Trigger Warning: This is another poetic metaphor post, none of these people are real, all material is poetic metaphor, used to illustrate the nature of drug addict/alcoholic relationships. I am writing this because I promised myself to not write anymore negative on here, which this is, but it came to me this morning, and I think I am supposed to write it on here, to show there are not bad people just those sick with the disease of addiction.

This takes the darkest form of the sickness, and is why I used this poetic metaphor. I knew people like the characters I portray in this post, or knew of them, there is great darkness on the streets, I have seen it, and am trying to save others from having to see it as well. This is why I have the Dante’s Inferno category now, the seventh circle of Hell, is cheaters, liars, and other damned souls, like the ones I write about in this post.

Enter Misery.

I know Easy, she was fun and free, she was my baby, my sweet divine, lover of the human bind. I loved Easy…

She was CRAZY

CRAZY

CRAZY

Do you scare Easy, yes I do, I love your girlfriend, she’s so gooooood to you….

Let her play with me…

Easy, baby, you are such a nice lady, your husband loves you, so much, it makes him

CRAZY

You want me honey, that is good, give me your items, we are good, and I will make him sure regret every time he hit you and I bet, that we can all be friends, and you will see, how much better you will be,

BECAUSE OF ME.

I am debt. I am lend, I am let me sleep on my couch, I am your FRIEND.

Eat honey

I eat honey, I am sweet, in this act, I am complete. I eat sweetness. I resign. I live in hole. I am not divine. I eat sweetness, cause decay, I am a bee. I sting, and make pain stay.

I cause infection, I can cause death. I make sweet items, and fill request, for sweet honey, wanted by man. I am a creature and have legs to stand.

I am a creature, that dances on flower, I create item, which soul devours. I dance on flowers, that cause joy, but I am also Hell’s toy.

To see clearly, clearly see, or experience clarity through the external, which necessitates soul rebirth

My sacrifice, self-sacrifice is a lie, told to me to justify a constant taking, grasping, stealing of joy and mercy or it was, and I am describing what it was not is, as a reflection.

I drive stakes into my arms, a vain act, of pain, undertaken to sacrifice myself to myself to myself for myself. I eat my own soul this way, so that I can say help me I am in pain, and you can see I am, so you help me, and isn’t that insane?

I am stepping back and releazing the harm, that I inflicted making myself my own personal Jesus, driving dirty stakes, forsaking the idea of something I claimed not to believe, but call on every time I fall. I

Was addicted to being hero in everything, when I was simply a heroin addict, jabbing myself with needles, not driving stakes of self-sacrifice into my hands.

I am learning this now, so I can turn this around, and do something else, just don’t know what that is yet.

I thought this was significant for me because it is close to 100, which is crazy. I remember we had to do something when I was a little kid that involved 100 days, I think it was the 100th day of school or something, we celebrated it. The whole thing was riddled with irony actually, because I hated it.

I told my teacher that the day counting was stupid, because it was just counting down your life, and who would want to do that. I think the irony there is amazing, for someone who would later go on to do the drugs that would tick seconds off my life and smoking and drinking. It’s funny I went from being completely petrified by death to being completely petrified by life, or maybe both are the same thing, and it is really just all the control thing? Dunno.

Damien

I am adding this at the top, but it is a revision, just did something because of below dream, to help someone out. Not revealing that on here, because all that is important about this is I am learning I care about people.

In the nightmare I was walking around ranting like a lunatic about things I thought were going on outside my window, which was what I was doing shortly before I went to sleep last night. I was doing this and my family walked in on me doing, and told me to stop doing it. I was by myself and they came in and told me it bothered them and to stop doing it, so since I wasn’t in my room, or the room I stay in, I went in there, and did the same thing. They came in there and they did the same thing.

I told them that them listening to what I was doing when I was supposed to be in a spot they told me I could sleep in, made me feel like it was unsafe to sleep in there, which it did, because if someone is watching me when I sleep, I will not sleep.

I ranted like this to myself for an hour or so about this and the news and how the whole thing made me feel, and then I apologized after coming to my senses, and told my family that the way they were acting was making me worse, and that the evidence of that was that I was geting worse, and that was why I wanted to leave and get my own place, which they now know I am going to do matter what.

Anyway, the dream, the dream was that I never went to sleep, just kept doing this all night, and got drunk, and I got drunk in the dream by accident by the way, I accidently took a sip of my family’s wine, from a glass I thought was water, and then realizing that I had fucked up, I got drunk about it.

So point being I woke up from this dream, checked in the room for the wine, and was extremely relieved it was a dream, because I actually care if I mess this up, for myself, no one else, I care about my own sobriety, in an almost selfish way.

WTF.

That is kind of cool.

Anyway the dream,

I was with a friend of mine, and we were well… doing things you should not do on a beach in the sand.. making quilts of pain.

I am not good at making quilts, I always use a thread that is too long, so long sometimes I get tangled in it, and end up waking up next to her, after she got tangled in it too.

I woke up choking on my own vomit, because when you play with string and swallow it you have to throw up sometimes… I look over at her, and she is not breathing….. I immediately start crying, because that is the right response, make it so I can’t see clearly, so I can’t save my friends life because I had to take a shot at doing something stupid, because I can’t just be sober for five seconds, even if the five seconds would save her

I throw everything out of the way, and wonder where the **** I put that thing…. that thing that you stick up people nose to save their freaking life when they do something stupid and are not the one who has to be me right now **** why the hell did I never learn CPR. Why the hell did I never learn… I know how to say all this stupid stuff in different languages, but I don’t know cpr…. what the fuck….

You cough, and everything is alright.

Thank you God.

They hurt so bad right now, I think this is a meth withdrawl side effect, this is really intense. They feel like they are on fire. I think I mentioned this before, and associated it partially with the schizophrenia, and guilt. I think it is overblown by that, but seriously this is killing me. It is actually better when I am moving them. They are killing me though. Oh. my. god.

This is so freaking intense.

OW.

Okay, found it, it is called PAWS. Post acute withdrawal, or my hands burn because I damaged my nerves, that and severe body dismorphia, and nausea are the most severe things I have right now. I have such a hard time eating because I guess along with everything else I have issues with that too.. oh well.. done complaining… my hands are feeling better,

How about you Amanda?

Yeah, me too. I actually slept.

Yeah, so did I, not that anyone other than you notice because I am alone.

Our family notices, and you are being less of an ***. You actually said you were sorry yesterday, not something I would have done.

It made me look better.

You always have to ruin compliments.

They make me uncomfortable, because I think the person giving them has ulterior motives.

I am you, what ulterior motives could I have.

True.

I am a tragic dancer, I am a reality distancer, I am a fictioneer, I am addicted to human fear.

I am drinker of beer, I am commiter of jeer.

I am leary, I am query, I am dark, I am stark, I am hate, I am relate.

How do you dance in the dark night?

Do you delight in the

PAIN

Of the fallen?

Or do you pull them up?

I don’t know I don’t know

Say isn’t so?

Where do you go when it is dark?

To.. the answer is changing **** it.

I know, for me too.

For me too.

https://reinventionsreena.wordpress.com/2023/03/30/reenas-xploration-challenge-274/

I already am, in charge of a burning inferno, right now, it has been word vomited all over the internet, but I am done throwing up now, realizing I was never really sick at all, just had a sort of food poisoning given to myself by myself because I was addicted to poisoning my own mind, and meditating on all matters not divine, but I am done now. I am walking away, so no one is in charge of my hell, and yes I own it, because it was internal not external.

The fires of Hell, a place, are really the fires that burn in my own soul, on fire from a fire started by me, lighting everything that causes me to feel fear on fire, but it has been revealed to me, by my friends recently, that I can just simply leave Hell or hell, which is preferable.

So now no one is in charge, because even if you believe in this being a real place, I am not dead yet, and can decide to turn around, which I am doing now, instead of projecting into a place I am not yet and will make every effort to never be.

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 ****.

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 said kill me baby, would you please? I am on my freakin’ knees, begging honey would you dare, let me touch your pretty hair? I love you baby, don’t you know, do you really have to go? I want you badly, miss you greatly, have been thinking of you lately, so I say honey please answer me, I miss you so, won’t you please, please, please,

PICK UP THE PHONE

Don’t leave me here alone, I am sorry, I was drunk, I didn’t know what I thunk, I don’t know what I said, I was silly, soul so dead, please call me back back back

My soul I attack attack attack, tell me what I said, to make your eyes, oh so read, please please please.

I will stop drinking **** it. I swear I am done. This isn’t fun anymore.

https://afstewart.ca/2023/03/29/drabble-wednesday-secrets/

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.

I am so happy to be at peace, a place, instead of the sensation of mind erase, a drink, but also a place. I am no longer the feeling of lack of space, but am allowed to exist.

I wasn’t before this. I was a state of mind that was pushed away, a meditation thought to be decay, but now I exist.

Yes.

Drinking, using, any of that… is not better than this, and none of that is missed, not for anything would I give up this.

I am so glad to be done, and be able to not hate myself anymore.

I have begun to sow the fractured pieces of my soul back together, but it is hard, a reverse dissection of a fake infection projected on me by my own hand.

At least now I can stand on my own two feet.

all sensations leading down to the sensation of life down drain, extension of pain, after dedication of life spent in vein, I mean in vain…….

I had my own death planned out since I was, I don’t know 14. A clever escape from a life of running a race into nothing, a condolence for a life spent on nothing but purchasing pain… in vain, in vein.

I am heroic.

Heroine, heroine, where art there heroine?

I like to drop the e’s sometimes.

X is one hell of a drug.

Trigger. Trigger. Trigger.

This is fun.

TOXIC TOXIC
WORD VOMIT
ACID BILE
Okay, I am done.

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2023/03/26/rdp-sunday-muskrat/

I didn’t know the river, that I thought was a river, was really a swamp. I couldn’t tell from where I was standing, it was too dark.

I had not paid much attention either, having had to make a quiet escape, while my “friend” was sleeping, so as to not offer any explanation and justify my leaving.

I am looking out over the water, I am hot and itchy, it has been days since I showered, and by days, I mean… probably weeks, probably a month. I don’t know the difference between the segments of time, they make no difference to me anymore. I am itchy, and there is water… or ehm.. I was itchy.. and there was water… I am not good at the whole tense thing sometimes either… I am always tense…….. tense….. it is just a state of mind….

I jump into the river, or what I think is a river, and it feels good for a second, just one, till I realize what I have done, and the fatal error I have made. This is a swamp. I panic, pulling at weeds, and struggling to not sink too far into it, it takes me 45 minutes to escape my failure at showering, and I look like a drowned muskrat.

https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2023/03/25/weekend-writing-prompt-304-mail/

I turn on my computer, and open a word file, got mail from myself.

YOU SUCK, and I hope you die.

Schizophrenic email is awesome, so glad I opened it.

https://lindaghill.com/2023/03/24/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-march-25-2023/

I emptied both of my laundry baskets last night, metaphorical and physical, instead of throwing all my clothes out and saying I don’t need more than the clothes on my back.

I don’t have many clothes, or I didn’t because whenever I would get angry, I would throw my clothes out, or all over the road, or all over the woods, or leave them at someone’s house, or you get the idea. I leave things places, because I don’t need things… or so I thought.. apparently… that is addiction thinking……

I used to hate my family,

Because they did not understand me.

They told me try to get better, because they don’t ****ing understand me…

Or because they love you, jerk.

I did my laundry yesterday with my mother, and she helped me fold it because I am missing three of my finger tips, because I have done things that caused me to get infections in my hands…

I told her I was sorry, and now my laundry is put away and all of it is clean.

Daily writing prompt

Who was your most influential teacher? Why?

View all responses

I had this teacher in 8th grade who had all of us do this writing anthology, all of us meaning even those of us with learning disabilities, I have hydrocephalus, so I am bad at math, and they pegged me into the classes that were for those with learning disabilities even though I am not bad at English or writing, which did focused on remedial skills, and I was bored, and sat there and did not pay attention, because I was not meant to be in that class. I was one of the kids with an IEP. Individual education plan, which said that I had learning disabilities, but due to a lack of understanding of the brain because they are teachers not doctors ,they thought I had learning disabilities in everything not just math and geography. I am visually/spatially challenged due to hydrocephalus. Seeing the reason for See Clearly?

This woman made everyone do the anthology and used my anthology as a reason to fight for me the next year to not be in remedial English in HS. She also said this to me.

“If you don’t deal with your anger, you are going to ruin your life, and you can use the writing to do that. You like it, and it is a positive outlet,”.

I wish I had listened, but she still remains the most influential teacher in my life, I would not have kept writing if it wasn’t for her. I just always thought my writing was awful. I just did it instead of crying…..

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..

https://wordpress.com/tag/dailyprompt-1841

“From Me”

I can’t even see, I am so exhausted from making myself cry, clawing and scratching, and scrapping, and ripping and tearing at my own eyes, fighting to make it impossible to use them, so I can never see this again, myself through someone else, who ripped me so far away from myself, I don’t even know who I am anymore.

I am a cat who cannot see the cat in the mirror is them. I jump at the mirror, slamming with full impact into the glass, a marriage of breaking, a marriage of crashing, a marriage of skin meet sharp object, so very much like my tragic love affair with things heroic, but not, because they hide in human skin, and only bring death and pain and loss and women who used me like a severing knife, and then turned the knife on me.

I have become her outer monologue manifest in my mind, manifesting in man of festering infected soul. I am so stupid, I am doing this to myself, and I can’t bring myself to stop doing it because that means I am alone, and I don’t know if it is worse to talk to demonic ghosts or be alone.

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 can still talk to you though we exist not in the same dimension, all the time at least, I visit you because I see you, you see me and you speak and I hear you because I listen. I listen to everything, to the mutterings of the under spoken word, to the shouting to mad dark night, to the words callously yelled into chaotic dark night, because they used to consume me, but they don’t anymore, because I realized I can cast them out on here.

I travel back and forth to Misery through my mind, and through others, who I see, stuck there, and they speak to me from there. I can see it in them speaking to me, speaking through them now, this came to me last night after a dream, I have been having strange dreams.

I am thinking that ghosts sometimes just want to be heard and are not used to being heard so say thing that they have always wanted to say very quickly and it is up to me to decode them because the universe is showing me them and them me for a reason, positive being the key over negative.

I began training my dog to help me with a personal mission. I wanted to hunt wild boar. It was not just for me, but for her so she would stop chewing on my leg and her leg, because I was paranoid she wanted to eat mine, so I thought maybe she could eat a wild boar’s leg instead.

When I am lucid, I know that she never had any intention, of chewing off anyone’s leg,

Not mine, not a wild boar, not hers

I just thought of this because I am

INSANE

I have a functional brain that works most of the time, but sometimes

IT DOESN’T

And there is no fear in me to admit

WEAKNESS

Anymore, because I have realized that the

WEAKNESS

I had was in my failure to admit things, not in admitting them or making them into other things, in creative metaphor to slay like metaphorical dragons, I was just experiencing

FEAR

And I am no longer

AFRAID

Or have to roll around in

AGONY

Because I cast out these metaphorical demons on a black screen.

I am your admission that your guilt is real,

I am your recognition that your dragons represent guilt erected into a false sense of pride and shame blame that explains why you

FAILED

But I am also your strength in admitting this and

Casting it out.

I am an inner demon, I am a deep seeded hatred, I am a future projection,

I am what you feel, I am who you are, I am who you are in the process of seeing

I am you. I am fighting you

To be real

Because you are an addict addicted to the things that make me

UNREAL

Making you unreal with a desire to un-feel.

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?

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

I went to the doctor and got the rest of my shots, hep a and b and am still taking my meds for staph infection, I am going to make a psych doctor appointment and get the rest of my health things in order, I have to see a nuerologist, because I have not done that since California. I am feeling so much better since I started living in reality, and not projecting my life into some strange fantasy where I feel so guilty about being a drug addict that I equate it to actually being the one responsible for hurting anyone. I did not realize till recently, how sad and messed up that is, and how it has ruined so many things for me, by my own self sabotage. I think I felt like being some violent social deviant was some how better than saying I was who I was because it made me feel like I had control over my life.

I have control over my life now without having to pretend I was hurting anyone. I was only hurting myself by putting all of that, the weight of all of that on my own shoulders, and making myself out to be some social deviant when I was just a sad addict who couldn’t handle admitting mistakes made because I felt that saying I messed up made me weak. Hurting people would not have made me strong. I am stronger admitting weakness, than living in some sick twisted Misery world where I hurt unsuspecting people who had nothing to do with my inability to accept myself.

I love all you guys who helped me see this. I am so sorry for anything I said out of lack of knowledge about what was really going on with me. I am trying to be better.

Love,

Damien

“Wherever they burn books, in the end will also burn human beings.”

– Heinrich Heine

EXPLICIT CONTENT: Post uses poetic analogy for the addict backed into a corner and told to drink, when this happens we sometimes attack like a killer or a vicious dog. This is metaphorical only, I have only ever killed anyone with my silence, not saying anything as my friends died in active addiction. These are allegories in all gory glory.

We are in a basement, a base meant for debasement of everything I have ever come to know to be true about myself. I am looking into the eyes of a woman who I used to know, I still know her, but I am choosing to forget this right now, not now but then.

Rei hands me a bottle, it had booze in it. I think she is handing it to me to drink it, it is everclear, funny name for alcohol that makes you so unclear..

I get pissed, so I put a cloth in it soak it in alcohol, by dipping it in the bottle, the smell of it disgusting, I hate it. I am sickened by the smell and want only to get it off my hands. I light the rag on fire, and she tells me the girl who sits in front of me wants me to drink it. I have been up for five days, and I would have known that what she is saying is not true, had I not been high, and been thinking clearly not thinking under the influence of things that cloud my mind.

I throw the burning bottle at the woman’s feet, Rei thinks I did this to burn the woman alive, and laughs. I was aiming at the book on the floor, the **** had a copy of a book about alcoholism at her feet, hating the irony I want to burn it.

The girl burned alive, because I can’t look in the mirror.

I watched because I couldn’t figure out how to put it out.

I am feeling better, after all the confessing in vomit thrown at the pages of this thing. I am thinking that if nothing else, at least this is helping me attempt something that I never thought I would, the making amends thing always scared me so much, I think it is the reason I just kept drinking or using, but I am realizing that the process I was in was just slow suicide and it was hurting those who happen to grace me with their presence. I am trying to focus on the positive and bring no more negative with my continued presence on this earth, I figure if the universe was kind enough to spare me, I might as well, try as hard as I can to make it worth it for it to have done so.

I am not saying anything about deserving any of this, I don’t deserve anything, but I will take whatever I can get. I am desperate at this point, to do anything I can to not be the same ***. I am so sorry for everything. I wish I could turn back time and undo all the pain that I caused, but I can’t so I am doing the best I can to fix what I can, and not break anything else. I am learning to appreciate what I have and not at all, because I think I deserve it, I don’t deserve any of this, quite the opposite.

Love,

Damien

“By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.”

Macbeth

You realize we just thanked ourselves in the title right?

Yeah, I don’t care, I just wanted to thank you for the longest I have slept in the morning in a long time. Narcissism as well, but better.

So you really were just trying to take my body from me?

(Symphonic black metal Norwegian band- do not listen to if you can’t handle)

At first yeah?

You don’t care that it’s female?

It’s not female.

Thank you for saying that, but unfortunately it is.

No it’s error presenting female form, or a shot at your pride, so you experience soul death and don’t become me, and a call for me to wake up and talk to you. We are part of the same soul.

It’s all for you Damien.

SCREW YOU!!!!!!!!

Okay… backing…

I didn’t mean to kill them. I didn’t mean for my house to burn down with them inside it, you look so much like her I didn’t care. She was involved in some dark level shit. She was going to give them our daughter. I am glad they are dead. At least she is safe, away from DEBORAH.

Wait what?

I’m sorry I can’t remember what I said.

You were.

Please leave me alone.

Can you….

Please leave me alone.

You don’t want to.

I CAN’T DEAL WITH THIS NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE OR I WILL KILL ****ing DIANE. DEMON WITCH PSYCHOTIC **** DIANE OR DEBORAH MY EX WIFE.

I’ll show you what do honey, it is easy really, you just lie with reckless abandon and take with impunity, giving nothing and stealing everything until they have nothing left, and then you leave and do it to someone else, you need no friends, I am you and with my help I will fuel your dreams till they become nightmares, and you will walk through a bleary eyed world of no sleep till the day you keel over and die from exhaustion.

Damien de soto, In the beginning

He came to me many times throughout my life, starting at seven years old, he was always the same age, 38. He must have done something at 38 that got to him, and he got stuck there, and paced through life stuck there, inter-dimensional time traveling ghost of Christmas future that he was, he showed me how to be everything that I am. We were thick as thieves and thieves as well. It is a very clever device to get whatever you want, all the devices he taught me, I mean. He is skilled with words, and I admired that, being a writer myself, but he was man, and had the appearance I wish I had myself, but I did not find myself attracted to him in the traditional way.

I want to hide away in the back of a cave
At the top of a mountain
Where no one can hear me and no one can see me
So I don't have to deal with them
And they don't have to deal with me

Days N Daze, “Misanthropic Drunken Loner”

I was attracted to him sure, in the way a moth is drawn to flame, and for the longest time, I chased after this, burning my heart with the hot hands of bad men, not knowing I was hunting my own self, seen through the mirror of other dimensional Damien de Soto. He was me and I was in love with myself, and the selfish pursuit of the things that made this an easier admission. I cared nothing for the human beings I robbed, tricked, lied to or manipulated, they were simply devices for spare changes that in their mental sparring with my soul, cut deeply into my ideas that I resembled anything that could be called even close to human at all. I was so in love with him because he was me, and I desired to be him.

So that is who I became.

I am not that thing anymore, do you still like me now?

More than ever. You have discovered with me that true strength is in love.

Now, you know a little more about what I hear in my head on repeat when I am talking to myself, you know what keeps me up at night. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, I was just not able to stop doing what I was doing easily… I was weak and stupid, and even though I knew what I was doing to others, to myself, and to who and what I was serving, I still refused to surrender. I do not regret doing what I did when I did not know what I was doing. I regret doing it after, due to my own weakness, and lack of resolve to walk away.

I do too, Damien.

I know. I am you.

I think we can fix it by doing the right thing now.

You do?

Yes, you have to move on, beating yourself up is what it wants.

Okay, I will try.

Me too.

This is right before this story began, and gives more back story into character origins.

Enter Resentment before it becomes full blown Misery.

I am the seed of man’s fall, I am the call to end all, I am the lack of feet to stand on, I am falling with nothing to land on. I wish I was dead, I wish someone would cut off my head.

I am standing on a bridge, looking over the water, I am lucid, because I got ripped off, this is when I was still in my most callous form. A complete wreck of reckless abandonment of my human soul. I am looking down into the water, I can see her body down there, she is the fifth one I have seen today, they litter the ground, as if someone is following me, something or someone stalking me, and consuming my friends, eating their souls and leaving them tossed for me to see. I feel this, and I know my feelings are not to be trusted, but this I feel differently this is at me, taunting it stalks me and confronts me. I am forced to face, every time I didn’t say no we should just do something else, every time I carried forth a plan to get high and they met my tragic keepers, those I serve and the erected death idol that they have cast like a statue to worship in the sky.

I am not a bad person, I just don’t pay attention, I pay for things I give to other people in exchange for part of the things I pay for, my best friend pays for things with things she has because she is she. I don’t have this ability so I pay with delivery like a pizza man from Hell.

We are quite the miserable duo. I don’t like doing this anymore, I talk sometimes like I doing it because the thing possesses me, I am propelled by a voice that gives me no choice but to sound like this and speak in style that rhymes for miles to mock the speech of human beings beyond teaching.

I am perpetually looking down, not seeing faces, because then I don’t have to remember them, and it makes it a little bit easier, to serve a demon to eat dragon fire. I hate my life, this has never been fun, but this is a new low, and I want out, but they will arrest me if they see me writhing in drug addicted agony on the ground, and I am too crazy to survive five seconds if apprehended. I hate myself, but I can’t stop easily because I don’t have the ability to stop moving long enough to be able to deal with the physical debilitation of withdrawal. I started doing all of this when I first started hearing voices, and it used to make them better, now it is the voices, and I don’t know what to do anymore, because I don’t want to take my life, but it so hard not to. I am so unhappy.

Damien.

I am the conquering masquerade-r, I am a parade of afraid ER. I am a defender of lying, or have been, but I am trying not to be, but the mask sticks to my skin, it has worn my confidence from within to without, I am terrified and have eyes that shout get out, because I feel nothing on my face. I am the act of man misplaced, identity erased.

The conquering man, forever roaming unknown land, does not stand but flees, does not desire to be free, simply desires to flee, because it is easier than being on bent knee.

I have realized recently how much time I spent on mine, doing favors in the darkness paid in darkness, with darkness, for darkness.

I am a stereotype in so many ways, in my desire to self assert difference, I paid homage to a culture that is dying, the crusading conquering man is doomed to forever stand away, and stay nowhere. I conquered nothing, but ability to be at peace, I chained myself thinking I was stronger than those who were so much freer than me.

I have been a basket case all day, up and down and up and down. I am so exhausted, that I just can’t do this anymore. I am resolving now to try and move on. I am accountable for everything I did. I know this, but I don’t think suicide is the answer, or rather I know it is not. I can’t do that to those around me, and I have been driving myself in the opposite direction today. A lot of what I have posted today, has to do with me flipping out because there are no meetings today, so even though I have my family… I am very much alone in my own head until Sunday, church helps me. I don’t know why I have to do this to myself. I am driving myself crazy, and I don’t have to, but my brain does it anyway. I am really starting to think I need professional help. I am getting my other affairs in order and then I think I am going to start going to therapy.

I have finally reached a point where I can safely admit I am no longer able to do this with the resources I have, as helpful as they have been. I can’t keep doing this to myself because it is painful for those around me to watch. I keep trying but then my bipolar defunct brain keeps sending me back and forth and it is maddening. I am a lot of the time incapacitated by my own inner demons. I wish I could stop, but I think it may be time for me to admit I need professional help.

I just hope I can do this.

I am so tired of the back and forth hellish roller coaster I have been on.

I don’t want to do this like this anymore. I am sorry to anyone who worries about me. I am trying really hard.

Love,

Damien

(THIS POST IS INTENSELY GRAPHIC AND MEANT TO ILLUSTRATE DRUG ADDICT MENTALITY AND DESPERATE DESIRE TO GET A FIX) IT IS INTENSE AND GRAPHIC DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO SERIAL KILLER, AMERICAN PSYCHO HORROR DAMIEN REPRESENT RESENTMENT AND THE SERIAL KILLER LIKE STYLE, THIS IS AN ILLUSTRATION OF THE HELL LIKE SITUATION ADDICTS FACE WHEN FACING DEMONS INNER AND OUTER LIKE DAMIEN

I am personifying addiction, but also making an illusion to Christian demonic possession with Damien as the possessed like the character in The Omen, except he is possessed by addiction and heroines are his victims.

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE.

ENTER ADDICT HELL

SIMULATED MISERY

WE LOVE YOUR COMPANY

This is done this way because words speak louder than pictures.

Listen, sweetie don’t make a sound, wait stop screaming baby, it’s okay, I will make it go away.

Prick, I like to play with sowing tools. They seem to make this so much easier you

FOOLS

It’s funny, now that I have your money, I wonder if your day should be more sunny, but I like color of your skin so much, I think I want to

BEEP BEEP
OH… that’s right we are near that bridge, I wonder if you would wake up if I do this,

You are dangling over the edge of a bridge, your body loosely flapping like a chicken over the side, heroin addicts are so light when they get this deep in, too bad you wanted better shit baby, or maybe you would have

Smack.

****

Didn’t mean to drop the ****.

****
This is not going to be easy.

Your leg looks broken, and you seem like you might still be breathing, wonder what would happen if I did this,

I stab you in the throat, and you start choking, as if your overdosing but you are not, you slowly release this and panic, and I think it would be funny and worth the waste of drugs if this looked like panicked SUICIDE.

I stab you in the stomach, in a way that it looks like you did it yourself, which I don’t remember because I black out shortly after doing some of you in the form of injecting

HEROIN
I like my girls dead and in black and white.

I throw your used up body over the guard rail, this is that area that everyone dumps the bodies of the damned anyway, and I figure by the time they find you they will not be able to tell you from any of the other street junkies no one cares about.

Click, oh your dealer called baby, too bad your dead, went to the wrong guy.

Now, I have 40 bucks and you’re dead, too bad so sad, maybe if you had 100 you would have been worth my time.

Can it!

Okay.

I am spinning back and forth space, thinking man isn’t this great, I am no longer doing anything to cause harm, missing hands no longer missing arm

Cheap shot

No, it wasn’t it cost 20$

Every time I fired up desire to live. I am disgusting.

I am glib I am mean I am ad lib?

Add liberation, an activity devised to be liberating, even though I am pretty sure that is not how you spell that, but to lazy to check that, so don’t judge me, I know everything, even though I don’t.

I am learning okay.

Yes, I see that.

You are me, of course you see that.

Lunatic.

You are talking to yourself again.

I know, I am.

At least it is on a screen not a street corner scaring people and at least now I am just insane not high and insane threatening people with posed presence into giving up cash to a man holding a sign at 3 am.

Yeah that too.

I gross my own self out.

Me too.

Thanks jerk.

You’re welcome self.

Right back at you.

I like double shots too.

Heh.

Below the belt.

Yeah.

What is the last thing you learned?

I owe you the sun, the moon, and the stars for being someone who attacked you when you were just trying to help me.

Damien de Soto, last night ***

What does that even mean? Last before what? Last thing before sleep? The last thing before bed yesterday? Last thing I allowed myself to be taught? The last thing I learned in general?

Is this up to interpretation? Is that why it is phrase this way?

What the heck? I don’t get it.

You really think you are better than everyone else don’t you?

Who said that?

You. Just now.

No, I didn’t. And no I don’t.

Yes, you did, it is up there said, by me. That is how…

That is not how that comes across, I was asking for clarity.

You were pointing out a flaw with the question to avoid answering because you are used to being held somewhere under a light and asked questions about drunk or high behavior by police.

This is not a cop asking me this.

Then what is the last thing you learned?

Before bed? I’ll take it that way, which is the only way I can take it.

Yeah?

I learned I am lucky and grateful that I have been gifted the ability and chance to do anything at all because I have lived a life of selfishness and deserve none of this, only being granted it by the grace of God or my higher power.

Thank you, good answer.

That was easy, and rewarding.

Yeah, I know.

Nice mental pat on the back.

I know that too.

Jerk.

Noted.

Not going to lie here, that at first was slightly terrifying, because I am a wuss, and I am just glad I jumped instead of punching people like I used to. I have told them not to touch me, while I am sleeping, which is the exact kind of thing you scream when you are a mean control freak narcissist who is not used to love. I am just glad I didn’t hurt them, I love them so much, and enough people have already suffered for loving me.

Amanda has nice cats, she is learning to love people as well, slower, because I am a frantic fast moving time traveler. Ew.. gross…

Shutting up.

The idiot

Damien

I don’t know what is wrong with me sometimes, I fantasize about the strangest things, drawn to your hands and I think of times when I could cut them off, your nails are red and I think about the scraping against my skin, the red blood under your nails being so similar in character to mine, it makes me uncomfortable, I don’t want to feel this way, so I fantasize about cutting off your finger, and how it would be so easy when holding your hand to break it because they are so soft and there is nothing stopping me from squeezing it as tight as I can

YOU CAN NEVER ESCAPE YOURSELF DAMIEN

I know this, and that is why I write it down, because it is so much easier than wondering how much it would take and bite you while you kiss me because I have always found it easier to taste the metallic taste of your blood than that of your cinnamon lips, I want you so badly and that makes me want to hate you, it makes me want to

Rip at the eyes, ripping me out of them so you can’t do it to me first…….

I have no self control, so I sit in a dark hole, which is the grave situation of my life, riddled with question of why does the sight of your tongue make me think of blood running out a mouth with one?

Why do I think of you coughing up blood from a blow to the stomach when I would never want to hurt you? I have no control over my mind, and it torments me more than you will ever know, I am locked in my skin, caged like a clawing animal to try to get out of myself and instead I claw at those around me,

Screaming you can’t own me, when you don’t even want to, you are the kindest person, and I am awful. I do not know what you see when you look into the pools of nothing that are the black pupils of eyes that look like nothing.

Why do you love me?

I don’t get it. I want to rip me out of me.

I hate myself so much.

Damien

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

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

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

NO SENSE

And she believes because

HEROIN

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

FIST

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

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

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

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

My name means tame.

She belongs to me now.

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

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

Sorry, Amanda.

I get it.

DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH ME

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

THAT WAS A MOVIE DUMMY
YOU ONLY WANT HER MONEY FOR

HEROIN

I am saving the heroine.

I think it thinks it’s a pain atm?

This is just stupid.

It really likes breaking language.

Of course it does, it’s addicted to its own

SELF
SELF
SELFISH I

Don’t let it hit you were it hurts. Be decent don’t worry about the past. Make it up by living now. I think that is ow you battle this thing.

This is freaking fun.

It just tried to type fun as gun,

You don’t have hands

Neither do you.

Was that you or it.

It.

This thing is like patheticness incarnate.

I am talking to anyone reading this, who slowly changed my mind about humanity. I have so much love for you as human beings for restoring my faith in humanity and myself. The original purpose of this site was a psychotic weeping and screaming at the souls of normal humans, but your response saved my life, and I want to thank every single person who interacted with me on here. The growth of these characters is growth of a personality fractured by inflicted wounds through decades of addiction, and the response on here saved my alcoholic addict lying dying crying madman life from being another suicide or overdose. Thank you from the bottom of the heart I thought no longer existed.

The development of the character of a serial killer is the development a silent screamer who in the maddening chaos of night was going to turn out their own light and just say good night.

The amount of love shown on this blogging platform saved my life. Thank you.