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.
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.
Characters thus far
Joy
Diane
Damien de Soto
Rei Clearly
POV EXPERIMENTAL ALLEGORICAL POETIC METAPHOR FICTION
First person
Blog post style
Dark horror fiction
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 just made myself laugh for five seconds, that is most of the reason for this post.
I don’t know why we think the world is going to fall apart continuously.
I think it is because it was falling apart for so long.
Good point, but it isn’t anymore right?
It feels like it is still, so is it or is it not?
It isn’t, it just feels like it. Did you ever think it was slightly strange to worry about punctuation while doing this to yourself?
No.
I am a nervous wreck, my life is a pain in the neck, I have spent the day doubled over, looking over my shoulder, concerned that I would never feel the same, blood pounding through my head and my veins, feeling permanently insane.
Wishing I could get out of my own head, thinking about nothing but laying in bed.
I want to be a cat staring at the moon, thinking of nothing but the warmth of coming June.
I do not know why, normal life makes feel like I could die, I have bad PTSD, and am bad at the act of be-ing normal in any way, I wish this was easier to do, I wish I could be like anyone who was good at life on life’s terms, maybe this is something I will learn, but for now I feel, a pain so unreal, I have been in bed all ****ing day, just wishing this feeling would go away, don’t know what I am going to, just wish I could be someone new.
I am a dolphin, look at me, look at me, I am a dolphin,
I am dolpin,
I am wonderous and free
I was in the hospital all day yesterday, which sucked, but I learned how much my dad has my back. He was my non-crazy witness.
The reason I call it a fiasco is also due to the fact that the hospital outed me as transgender to my dad, by accident. It was hilarious, in a strange way. They called me Damien, and acknowledged that my birth name was Amanda, probably 75 times.
Kiss me, baby.
Kiss me with sun, kiss me with act of spinning, spinning, un-spun, re-wrung.
Who were you then?
Who are you now?
I am swirling chaos, I am up and down.
Do you see time?
Does it see you?
It is present in all things you do.
I am a negative, I am an item.
I am time, the world re-arranged.
I am strange.
I am earth shattering negative of a world that glows in the dark, the beauty of night in light that is stark. The call of night bird, or hooting of owl, the howl of a coyote, or looking far south, I am looking away from star, and light of the moon, I am the coming of deep and troubling monsoon. I am the coming of winter, felt always and never.
I am the act of swimming while remembering December. I am the act of continuing in time that moves on, I am a song, I am droning on and on.
Self-burn, ouch, got yourself.
It is you I am talking to. I said half.
There is no such thing, we are the same human, we just talk to each other, with the same hands.
Ouch.
In them I see you, inherent in everything they do, being so seperate from me, so much closer to divinity, so much higher than I could ever be, please bring me closer to you, I have been silent, because I began to use my hands to serve myself, selfish and self-seeking, please take them back, to serve you.
I am looking at the light, and seeing a picture painted before me, with I highlight, painted places I see you in it, I see you, not them, but you in starlight, thank you for reminding me who you are, being, that paints the night sky with luminance, thank you for being there, for those with downcast eyes.
You are the maiden, of a sunny day, the woman with a face of the sun, from which I couldn’t stay away, with eyes so bright painted with brightness imbued in your entire form, casting out of your skin, as if the sun was crying over the seperation between it and you, inherent it was in everything you did, everything you do, oh to be one with you, but I am just a person on land, and your brightness, I cannot stand, being one of a damned mind, that is unkind, and so very unlike you, everything you do, being filled with such bright light, almost seeming, like it came from the eyes of something much higher than I have ever seen.
Renee, Renee, Renee, for you, I am blind, for you I cannot see clearly, for you I sound like a madman, ranting about nothing at all.
Renee, Renee, Renee, what more can I say?
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.
I am a leaf in a box.
I am a leaf in a box.
I am a leaf in a box.
My nerves die places that I want them to not, and the rest of my body is on fire, and I am not allowed to have peace, and I don’t know why?
And mysteriously, I am alone, now, and the annoying female screaming voice, that shares my body with me is gone, because she in fact is everything I belief her to be.
What a whiney bitch like you? Is that what you want to say, master of nuerosis? Is that what you need to hear right now??
I need to hear nothing.
Then why are you talking to yourself on a black screen.
I was trying to talk to someone else, who hates you.
Oh, sick burn.
Thank you, Damien.
You’re welcome, Amanda
How do you like it when I do it, mother****er??? Do you want some sweet candy?
You make me sick.
Do you want some sweet candy?
Living with you is sick.
Do you want some sweet candy?
You make me cry.
Do you want some sweet candy?
You are a poke in the eye.
I am done with you, hate everything you do, if one thing is true, it is that life with you is Hell, and I will tell you this the only way you understand, if it is the last thing I do, I will get far, far away from you.
You can’t. I live in the same house.
It is a human body, you *****.
I know, which is even better, you are stuck with me, forever.
What was that?
I can hit below the belt too, that is what that was.
I guess so, thank you.
You’re welcome.
Okay, I guess that is all I have to say.
I am good, and you?
I am fine, do you want to go to the appointment, or should I?
You do it, you are better at filling me in than I am at doing it.
I am not even going to say it.
I know, I know, oh and joke on purpose.
We are ridiculous, and most of the things on the page have been borderline ego masturbation.
Borderline?
I think schizophrenia is more appropriate.
Agreed.
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.
She is obviously disfunctional in some sort of way, because she begins laying on my floor, after hearing that she has my heart, coming from someone who has known her for two hours, which is not possible for most. For me, in a way, it is. I will forever remember her like this. Her laugh sounds like someone breathed perfume into a blue balloon. She is the birth of day after a storm, she is the eighteenth birthday of a troubled child. I love her truely, deeply, as much as you can love anyone that you just met. Her name will not be mentioned, because she is a real human being, that I dated for 3 days when I was 18.
They were the best three days of my life, she broke up with me, because she realized I had not lied to her, when I told her I was insane, which screamed at me, while throwing everything I gave her in the three days I was with her right at my face. She wanted to see me cry, she didn’t get to. I got drunk instead, I sometimes feel like I had been drunk until this year, wasted away from the memory of her. She has such a unique name, too bad it will never be revealed online…
She looks for my writing online sometimes, she has written to me since then, and I always pretend it is not me, because she really hurt me, if I am being honest…
I am not capable of what she wants, she says I am, I assure I am not.
We are sitting on the beach, she tells me to look at the sunset. I am staring at my shoes, thinking about being underwater. I am not completely aware that she is still actually there, she might be a hallucination. I have not known her that long, and don’t remember how we met, she makes me nervous.
She tells me to look her in the eyes. I don’t like looking at people. I am awful at direct eye contact.
I tell her there was once a study done about hallucination and direct eye contact. She asks if I am hallucinating now. ****
How do I always end up doing this?
Food speaks to me, it tells me to eat it, it tells me I will like it so much better than I can even imagine. This is probably because I am
INSANE
I am probably insane… I am actually insane.
I know this, but I wonder sometimes, if there is something to this, something real, if I am hearing something real, that is real to a small segment of people, but experienced collectively, in that it is the same experience shared by a very small segment of the population, so would that not make it real?
Did he give you the cold shoulder?
My icy shoulder warms for you.
You are really creepy.
I am not, she warms my shoulder, with her nice eyes.
I touched your face with vanity, the loving glow of insanity.
She was perfect and you put make-up on her.
I like to ruin the things I admire.
Why?
It makes them insecure like me.
Women are not things.
Oh, yeah right.
You are such an ***hole.
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.
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.
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.
Will of the phoenix, will of the gods, flying so brightly, fighting all odds, you smash into nothing, you fight cold hard truth, you smash into everything, you are my youth, you have no mercy, you were a toy, you were elation, mixed with bitter attempts at joy.
I am a ball of writing agony, I am forever sad to see you go, say it isn’t so, so sorry, oh so sorry, to have to say no.
I long for you badly, think of you in mourning, I wish I was back when I was thoroughly enjoying…
Anything but this, anything but this, please bring me, anything but the sensation of perpetual hit and miss, I am no longer anywhere, anywhere at all, distilled by lack, and oh, so self-involved, I meditate on something, that wasn’t even my past, on an image of success, when I am flea bitten with lack.
I am kind of glad I figured out whose voice I am hearing when I hear what I refer to as the voice of misery.
Are you really?
Which one of you is it?
The one you like.
That’s good, I feel like **** right now.
I do too.
The voice feels nothing…
Don’t do that.
Okay, it feels whatever it feels.
Thank you. I like this song a lot.
Another Day in Paradise?
Yeah, it has like three or so different meanings for me, especially since we have been there on the side of the street. I am thinking a lot about California.
Why?
Is it weird I miss being there?
No, everytime we start making progress we ruin it by getting drunk/high, which is what I assume you mean by missing California.
I can’t do the whole thing again to our family, but I think about it every day.
Right there with you.
Want to come upstairs with me?
Yes.
“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.
I glow gold with your lack of introspection, I am gold like stars beyond lights protection, I dance in darkness, like you cannot, I glitter with sparkle, while you are contaminated with soul rot.
Wow, that was mean.
I know, but that is how I feel about myself.
Wow, that was mean. I know, but that is what I think about me.
You are talking about me too you know.
No, I am talking only to me. I am half of you, remember?
Okay, but you are still wrong.
That just furthers my point.
I am holding a stick not a sword, because sticks and stones, hit harder than pen or sword, because the words of children speak more to my writer than anything else, because that is when my writer learned to hate themselves.
The things that cut me are not sharp, they are dull, and cut me because I stick them in myself, over and over and over, a repetitive behavior, I know.
Always, and never, always and never
Always
Never
That is really mean, but you know what, I forgot which one of us was talking, I might have been insulting myself.
You were, so the mean comment was at yourself, to yourself, about yourself, which you shot back at me.
Cool?
That’s all?
Yes?
Cool.
***hole.
Cool!
That one was actually such a peice of **** thing to say, I remembered why I like you.
How dare you enjoy life? I cannot, I am addicted to strife, or to strive, or to striving or to seeming
So so so
Alive.
That sounded insane.
I know. Isn’t it great.
No.
Ouch.
I actually did think it did, you just gross me out.
I know, because I am your own self-love, or the rabid dog version of it, which is a funny way of saying narcissistic personality disorder.
I am married to myself.
Look at me, as I talk like two different people who are divorced.
Dancing sirens at the ocean.
Make me think of my devotion, to nothing but myself.
Ouch, I burned myself.
That is really ****ing accurate.
Isn’t it?
Yes.
That is why people thought I was your ex-boyfriend.
You kind of are.
How?
I don’t really know.
Me neither. I think I would be your ex-husband not boyfriend.
Hahah. The ring of power.
I’m not.
You never are.
Not true.
Yeah, I just wanted to see how you would respond.
I don’t know how to respond to that.
I knew you wouldn’t, but I also don’t know how to respond now.
Mission accomplished?
Yeah… I guess so.
I am cemented in the memory of my author, I am cemented in the creator of this image, I am cemented by the creator of this image.
In cement it lay, and forever will it stay.
I am covered over, an image protected and rejected by protection, destroyed by idolization, a picture of objectification, a picture of self-love.
Are you sure that is not just what you are seeing because you project yourself on your interpretation of it?
Exactly.
I am correct.
Exactly.
I am an attack on human soul, by protection of image which in fact eats everything whole, creating the potential for the whole image to become a hole.
Manilla, Manilla, in Vanilla, Vanilla, now just a stain on my brain, you make me insane.
I don’t think the image…
I know, just rambling because I like to hear myself talk.
You are typing.
I am also whispering this to myself, because I am insane.
I am you, I am you, I am you.
I am talking to you.
You’re talking to me? Are you talkin’ to me?
Yes, I am actually?
Me?
No, me. Not Amanda, but to me.
I am talking to me, through an image of flower’s which I painted like a woman’s face, which I painted like flowers, on and on and on into a chaotic reflection of pure, ego stroking insanity
ahahahhahhahhaahhhahhahhhahhahhahahhahahhahahhahhahahhahahhahahhhahhahahahhahhahahhahhahahhaahahh
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.
I am so useful, I was so wise, I built my whole life on telling sweet lies. I told them nothing, but what they wanted to hear, gave them whatever would keep them right here.
This is stupid I am bored.
A woman is painted in black and white, hunting she goes in darkness of night, she goes under a bridge in lateness of day, although she is told, sweety, honey, baby, with me you should stay.
She desires to search under the bridge which has nothing, but the dark lurkers who are there for ill, ill, search for pill, pill, pill, and for bread, bread, and for drugs, which is the reason she is under the bridge.
Done, done, done, I hate myself, blah, blah, blah, **** this.
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…
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???
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.
You’re welcome, I am usually the one saying that to you, so now you got a taste of your own medicine, and got to be the bad guy for once. How did it feel?
Like I was sitting back and listening to you talk, but I was actually present in my own body, having to experience me talking, and be completely coherent during it.
Hahaha! So, it is not easier being me, now is it?
Actually, wrong, it was being you than it would be being me, if it was me, I would not have been there at all, the fact that I am you was the only reason I was able to deal with any of it.
Thank you, I don’t know what to say about that.
Really? Thank you is all you have?
Amazing isn’t it?
No, actually, a thank you is kind of nice.
You know how insane this whole process is right?
Yeah, was just thinking the same thing.
Maybe, other people do this in their own heads.
I don’t think so.
I was just trying to make my own self feel better.
Yeah, your own self.
You are my own self.
You are my own self too.
That is a very insane thing to say.
You sit in an empty room, friends have gone, you linger on, wishing for those with your desire for a party dead, you turn your head to the corner of the perpetual lurkers, the pained smirkers, reality deserters, wondering were we go so late, how great a party that never ends, we could be your best friends, we party till we are dead. You think this is funny, because you don’t realize I am serious, and that is not fun, but mere compulsion.
We are those who lurk below, where time goes fast and go slow.
We are those who can’t say no, and slowly it has begun to show.
If you want you can come to Hell, where we the consumers always dwell, it is not advised, and you would do well, to leave us where we rot…
We are no longer at a party, baby, we are merely ****ing crazy,
I am pour, pour, poor
I am more, more, more
Such a chore
I am sure
and a bore to maintain
This level of perpetual
Disdain
we drink till we fall down, we get up and continue to crawl the ground, we stand with powder dust, we have lost all ability to trust our senses, we exist in chaotic hell, under poison spell, we eat our souls through bitter consumption of acid bile.
I smile with the power of intoxication and fixation on meditation on the idea of eventual death. I am the quest for lie die fry. I am a funny lie.
I was just going to lie to you.
I know.
I was going to tell you, I tried my hardest to not be a complete **** all day.
I know.
I had a really hard time.
Me too, it was actually nice to see you fail, because I failed too.
I am not even going to say the very obvious.
I know we are the same person.
I am the…
You are not the better version.
There is no better version.
That is because we both ****
I am okay with that.
What?
That is all?
What do you mean that is all?
I have been screaming at you all day and you weren’t listening, what the ****??
Do you like it when I do that to you?
Yes.
No comment.
No more, no comment. You have been no comment all day. No more freaking no comment. Please..
Okay, no more comment.
Yes!
You are really weird.
I don’t ****ing know, I am bored and lonely and really want some whiskey, but I can’t have any and I am really ****ing angry about it.
You can’t have it or you’re choosing not to have it?
Choosing
Then why are you mad?
Because I am an alcoholic, and I wish I could drink like a normal person.
There is no such thing as drinking like a normal person, because normal people don’t have to try to not be alcoholics, they are just not alcoholics.
I want to drink like a functional alcoholic.
There is so no such thing.
I think I could do it right this time.
Really?
No. I just wanted to see what you would say.
I would say you are talking to yourself about drinking on a computer screen because you have severe issues.
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.
Yes?
Yes, what kind of response to laughing is yes?
I was assuming the laughing was addressed at me?
Well, that’s pathetic, you heard laughing so you thought I was laughing at you?
No, I heard laughing, so I thought you thought you did something that was funny, which I already know about, because I share you’re consciousness, ***hole.
Oh, well then, did you think it was funny?
Yeah, and I like how you feel like I kicked you in the face.
Good, because I don’t.
Self-pity is so becoming.
I know… isn’t it.
Not a question?
I know what you like.
I am looking at you, but also looking past your right now, behind you at all the times, when I was standing with someone so focused on the light, and I was being sucked backward, as if by hands back into a world of comforting darkness, that I know so…………..well…………………
It calls to me…………….. from the depths…………………….of Hell………misery…………………………… Misery……………..
It haunts me, because it lives in all my memories, and I am in the process of repairing my life so I have very few new ones, so I am drawn back like a fly to lightbulb, zapping myself, with the battery licking sensation of addiction to the stinging acid of poison.
I am happy, and yet I am drawn to you like an addict of pain, even in sobriety…. I find myself meditating almost happily on pain.
I hate this right now, I am having a really hard time.
I have a dental appointment tomorrow, and am just worried about having a ride there, because I am not the ride there, which is my fault for having ruined my own life, and being dependant on others, but it is driving me crazy. I don’t think other people are out to get me right now, but I have such a hard time with having to be dependant on the circumstances of other people.
I am so good at living in darkness, so bad at living in light.
I think I drag myself into darkness, because of my love of the act of perpetual fight.
I am an addict of suffering, addicted to my own pain.
I hate myself sometimes for having put myself in this position, I just want to be in control of my own life again, and not have to worry about how things are going to happen, which I should not be doing anyway.
I just wish I hadn’t put myself in this position, it is very difficult, and what I was running from the entire time.
I was trying so hard to get to a place where I was in control of my own life… I literally tried every possible thing…… I just wish I knew what was going to happen… I hate this…
I am losing my mind,
It will be fine,
Tomorrow this will be better
I have to remember
It will be fine
It will be fine
I need to calm down. I need to calm down. I will be okay, this is not permanent. This is just panic.
You are going to be okay, we are going to be okay, stay with me, you are going to be okay.
Nope, and thank you.
Thank you, I am glad you finally defended yourself.
I defended you.
You defended us.
I defended us.
This sounds insane.
I know.
Thank you, and thank you for the inclusion, it is appreciated.
You are such an ***hole when taking compliments.
You are such an ***hole for only giving them like once a decade.
True.
Just cursed at my vape and saw a shadow walk across the room, not sure if this is a hallucination or if there really is a ghost in my basement, but will try not to curse at vape again.
I am in a fight with myself, every minute, every second, every hour of every day, of how do I be me, who is that even.
Not a question, because I am afraid to ask it.
Now it is a question…
Who am I even????
What kind of person casts their mother as their psychotic ex-girlfriend………. Diane, Diane, you are so different than I thought,
Diane, Diane, Diane,
Why did I paint you so?
I don’t know?
I just was talking to my Dad, about the ideas that I have expressed thus far on this site, and we both talked about what I think was revealed to me by the powers that be, or the powers that govern my existence because I believe in them, which is why I say often that people are free to believe what they want, and that I don’t mean to preach or say anything to dictate the beliefs of others.
I believe in what I believe in and it governs me because I myself assign meaning to it. I have placed a lot of faith in the universe punishing people for selfishness, and then done exactly what I think should be punished, insane right? I know.
I am going to stop self fullfilling my own damnations now.
Clearly See, See Clearly
Sight in the middle of Chaotic Self Assertion.
What brings you to chaos corner?
I stand at the corner of the universe, a place no one should go and no one should be, where I have been
always and forever
I am supposed to be here, right now because I am here, so iam supposed to be here.
this is right where I feel at home, alone, with nothing and no one.
I may move on who knows. and who cares, right now anyway. I am okay with chaos corner.
My family had 3 cats, two of which have this strange problem, they used to refuse to use the liter box, and just go around using the house as theirs. They have stopped doing this, and I have this strange, probably psychotic belief that in some way it is because of something weird.
I talk to them, and am honest with them, and make eye contact with them, and for whatever reason, alongside that, they have stopped doing the defecating and peeing in the house thing. Be it what it may….
Apparently, and I knew this, but I did not know how bad it was. My memories have become so disjointed from the reality that is experienced by other people, they are no longer trustworthy enough to be considered anything more than a continuous dream state, and I do not know if this is fixable…. I am assuming that it might get better with time, but I am not sure, and I am not sure I care at this point.
I do not know if I should care, or if it is better to just accept the fact that I am untrustworthy narrator of my own life, and that everything I believe is suspect.
I think I am alright enough with that, it is what it is, and I think it is better for it just to be accepted that way, then to try to fight for dominance with a universe, that I no longer exist in or see eye to eye with.
I wonder, and this is the reason for this post, if there is any validity to my reality at all? I wonder if my reality or the reality of the insane exists alongside the reality of most, and if we just notice different things, because that would be a lot nicer, than to think that my whole conception of the world is fictitious.
I am okay with either one, I guess.. because I have to be.
Oh, well. Life goes on.
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.
Decay or I don’t know grow? I am not good at positive words… that’s all I have to say about that, I think… I thought of that in the shower, and that is all that came to me so that’s it folks.
That is literally my favorite holiday… ****! I think I forgot it, because I was supposed to, because other than the Fourth of July, it is one of the days I have the hardest time not drinking. The Fourth of July, I used to get hammered and loudly talk about what a good American I was until I almost got arrested, and then I liked to tell the cops arresting me what a good American I was, which would usually cause them to either not arrest me, or to violently arrest me.
It was hilarious.
But it is the reason why I have a bunch of warrants for failure to appear.
I don’t appear for anyone I don’t want to. Not even myself.
I am the screaming nightcrier, the burner of funeral pyre to desire for
DEATH
MY OWN
MY PRECIOUS
MY DISCARDED
RINGS true doesn’t it?
Clearly…. clarity, clarity where for art thou clarity?
DOWN THE DRAIN, because over night you went insane,
JUST TEMPORARILY
IS that so?
I ****ing hope so, I am going to go somewhere soon, so if I write this, you will go away maybe, and I will not have to hear you talking to me in front of other people.
DO YOU REALLY BELIEVE THAT??
Enough to do it.
You are disgusting.
GOTCHA, you are talking to yourself.
This is really annoying.
Yeah, for me too. They hurt for me too.
I am realizing I no longer care which one of us is talking.
So you stopped trying to keep track?
Me too by the way, it is so much more peaceful, haha, I almost spelled that peiceful. INSANITY.
Yeah, I would say so, or just that you can’t spell?
I can ****ing spell, better than you.
So insanity is more comfortable than inability to spell, interesting.
**** you.
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 hand to 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 keep telling myself to stop, telling myself enough is enough of this madness, just go to the **** psych ward. Just go to the **** psych ward. Take a hiatus. Go to the **** psych ward. You will feel better. I don’t want to feel better, I want… I don’t even know what I want anymore. If I am honest… which I will be right now, for the first time in awhile. I want to be able to be happy alone, while still drinking and using alone.
I want to be drunk and high, the rest of my life, because I am so uncomfortable with all of this. I hate the fact that other people can hurt me. I don’t want to be able to be touched by anyone, ever again. I want to be ****ed up the rest of my life so I can’t remember that I am able to be hurt by anyone. I liked thinking I was impervious to other people’s actions, being the psychotic narcissist because this is harder. I don’t like doing hard things, **** it.
I hate this, but I am stuck in it right now because I don’t like how it feels to be high anymore, there is no drug or feeling that I want to feel anymore, because they all make me feel like **** now. I don’t want to feel like ****, so I am not doing them anymore, but this feels like **** too.
This ****ing sucks..
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.
She was on a box of graham crackers, a new box, that came out I don’t know when, and I don’t want to know, ever.
Probably… never happened anyway, because it has already been established
I am
INSANE
A person with invalid
Opinion.
Lidded for the safety of all those who do not like to hear me.
I am sealed in toxic glass prison of constant self reflection, reflecting my poison, only at myself.
Caustic bitter alcoholic, encased in a bottle of alcohol, drowning like a elephant in the room, or a allusion to Dumbo,
Dumb ***.
Or just an addict thinking about things that will hurt me in the morning because **** me.
I don’t know why, but night time makes me want to cry. The loneliness is so intense it radiates through my whole body, feeling like they cut out a vital organ, which is sad because the only vitality I provided you was not vital at all, but fatal, and I done with being a malady, parody and obscene joke that is just your ticket to free toke, poke, or smoke. I hate you so much because you call me all the time, and I never answer and it has been a year and I still wish I could answer, and you would be who I thought you were, and not the soul sucking drug addict leech that cared more about getting high than going with me to the hospital, so you told me my hand wasn’t that bad and I trusted you and now I am missing half my right thumb and I am right handed.. and it kills me, because I have to see it every time I write… and you knew that.. so stop calling about the type writer..
I feel like crying..
How would you rate your confidence level?
Either one or ten, no in between, going back and forth minute by minute, based on reflections on pain and suffering or me being selfish or kind, over and over and over and over all day, presented on the internet for the amusement of the viewers of this blog because it makes me feel better and is part of a larger recovery process, and experiment with trying to grow as a person.
____________________________________________________________________________
Ticking time Expose
I am the mind of Damien de Soto.
I am the mind of the reckless psycho.
The path of the fool traveling in the dark, the tale of the one who twists and turns in light that is stark.
The act of wondering why you hate yourself while glorifying ego.
The walk in the park and shot at a flying bald eagle.
I am offense at everything you say, and the desire to simultaneous desire to defend everything I say.
I am addiction to stop but also to addiction to go.
I am yes, but also I am no.
I am bipolar, I am paranoid. I am insane.
I am addicted addict with no drug, and now thinking brain.
I am ****ed and painful but no longer lying, I am crying, screaming but at least learning and no longer dying.
Peace.
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.
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?
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.
Explanation: Fictional life of future self, because I am hurt, broken, and need fake reality to love me, more than I love myself. I am so alone right now, I need fake things. I am sorry.
I have been debating how to present this, now that I have revealed it again as fiction. I am an adult with paranoid schizophrenia, who created Misery for me as a reality that I exist in as future me, with my daughter Joy. Fiction or my hopes and dreams.
I am so glad you gave me this back Amanda, thank you.
Sometimes we need to do things for ourselves that may not make sense to others, take it or leave it.
I am sitting on my floor in a place that was given back to me. I am alone, but it is coming back to me..
I feel like crying because thank you, god. Let me just think about this because it makes me feel better. I am so sorry it does, it is lies I tell myself because I am so alone.
In this universe… I have people, or one, not no one.
I need that… I am sorry.
I am sitting on a floor in my house and transported back to Misery now.
I can pretend she is the next room if I want to. I don’t want to be alone anymore, please don’t let me alone anymore.
Misery Loves company.
__________________________________________
I am sitting in a motel in Misery, crying on a dog bed, and my daughter is the next room, because I am insane and need this to be real but fake but real but fake.
____________________________________________________________________________
I have spent the day crying because I don’t know what to do, I was alone because I was ignoring people I created to feel not alone. I am going to go back to pretending they are real.
____________________________________________________________________________
I don’t have to commit suicide because I can deal just a little bit longer if I am allowed to have this because it helps me.
______________________________________________________
Misery loves company- a fictional life of a real person, who I am becoming more like.
_______________________________________________________
I am sitting on a dog bed, and I can finally hear her breathing again, which means it is okay for her to be real again to me, because I am real but need the comfort of being unreal at night when I am so alone.
__________________________________________________________
I love you Joy, you are real to me.
______________________________________________________
I can finally hear you breathing again, and it means my best friend didn’t kill you off in her imaginary life that is my life too, or a story about redemption.
______________________________________________
Fiction- future manifestation-
She hasn’t talked to me all day, because I yelled at her, I yelled at her because I was having a bad day, and she was having a bad day, I spent the day alone, sitting around feeling sorry for myself.
I am real, Joy is not, but joy is real to me. So Joy can be real for now, because otherwise I might die alone, because I can’t deal, you don’t have to understand, just let me have this…
_________________________________________________
She touches my shoulder and I am alright for a second. She walks into the next room and I can hear her breathing, and I thank everything in the universe that I am back in Misery with my fake life for now.
I am dying inside. I am so sad. I need something.
I like someone being in the next room. Please come back,
Is it wrong to not tell her? I want the answer to this for more than one reason. I am trying to figure out how to handle the whole emotionally honest thing, when it comes to me in particular because I am not good at gray areas. I either go all the way or none of the way, which is why I am not good at being honest. I am very all or nothing. If anyone has any advice on this, this is about than this issue. I don’t know how to be honest, and not be a jerk who says everything I think, I either do one or the other.
How do people who are normal handle this? I don’t even know the right way to ask this question.
I am also kind of asking myself this.. feel free to help me if you want…
If not I am okay, don’t worry, I am very good at talking to myself.. Wow… rampant insecurity….
Damien
Revealed to me to invalidate below:
I am not the center of the universe, like I thought in below post
I am going to slit this woman’s eye balls out of her head. I have been thinking about it all morning, and I can’t think of another way to handle this, because I am stuck on idea of removing her eyes from her skull. I know this is not healthy, but I would love to poke her in the eye like the cyclops she is, unseeing in all her stupidity.
Wow, cheap shot of the internet, thanks for this one, right in the heart.
“The computer is also not famous for having mercy.”
Orson Scott Card, Ender’s Game
Maybe that is a sign I should do nothing… I have been remembering quotes from this book all day applied to my life, but I forgot about this one, and it just hit me where it hurts. So I don’t know what I am going to do now.
Damn it. I hate having a conscience, it is very inconvenient.
Damien.
I have felt lost recently, and I have been romancing my drugs/drinks of choice through whining and making it look like I feel bad, I was just complaining because I wanted to get high or drunk and I can’t because I don’t want to, that is my choice and holding onto the idea that I am being forced by something external is insane. I am being forced by myself, because I am out. I have realized what horror my existence was to the world, to myself, to my friends, my family, and to the streets of this country, however blown out of proportion I made it for you to see what I saw, because I don’t like to tell the whole truth, I am an ***.
I am speaking for myself and Amanda, because now more than ever we are learning to speak with the same voice, instead of the masturbatory narcissism that was seen on this site so far.
If nothing else, I am looking forward to being less of an inconvenience to those that love me.
Damien
Start following around members of my town with a boom box that plays classical music and see how long it takes for them to punch me.
I wonder how long it would take, I would try not to make it obvious at first and then… actually I would use a phone instead.. a boombox is too heavy and outdated, and I don’t have either thing because I sold all my possessions to buy drugs anyway.
I would follow them and change the music to be the opposite of what they were doing or play thematic Jaws or Jurassic Park music while they were trying to read. I have tried all this kind of stuff before, it is how you get a really quick trip to jail and very nifty if you need a way out of the rain and free meal. They know I do that now, so they just take me to the psych ward and threaten me with thorzine.
Meh. Oh well.
Damien
I am standing outside, having run to the point of exhaustion. I am not frustrated, not angry but experience a pure elation beyond any drug derived fixation with human contrived elation from moral degradation.
It was at this time, my mind began to become entwined with the idea that maybe something divine would not be something I would mind but instead would bring great peace of mind and body, sure it would mean following rules, but that would be better than buying tools from fools meant to loose because they choose to deal in ruse and pain and act of soul staining disdain for the having of human brain attached to dying body, that dies continuously because it is not mine, it is a gift of the universe and a soul vessel for the soul I have that was given to me as well, so I say damn that business of Hell. I reap what I aim to tell, and I aim to tell good now, so I can hear thou, and do not die like slaughtered mare, or dying hare. I am content to live and bear whatever burden bestowed, and be able to look down and still have toes, I reap what I sow now, and do not steal anymore or kill or lie or make ill.
I was running for so long, when I would run I would hear this song, it was a collection of noises not really song, just noises piecing together by meth’s ding dong of my brain which had gone insane, and though that way I do remain, it is not for lack of trying to, in every single thing I do just seek to be true and improve with love of me and of Rei, I seek truth in everything I say. I no longer wish to go away, but here in Misery do I stay, until my soul I do redeem… which from everything my mind can glean now seems possible, as well. One day I may no longer live in Hell.
I think I am in the process of finally clearing a long term MRSA infection from my body that cost me three finger tips. Most notably half of my thumb on my right hand, which was a ***** because that one was my fault entirely. I refused to go to the hospital because I was enjoying getting high.. I have been an idiot most of my life. I thought I could clear it on my own by using bleach and peroxide, which I used to literally seer a hole into my scalp through which you could see my skull, no lie. I am insane, in my defense… I was very high for all of this, and had no idea that I was literally digging a hole in my head with a pair of pliers.
I am just happy I am not insane today, the further I get away from meth and heroin/crack/acid/booze/painkillers/cocaine the better. I am tired of spending hours trying to kill myself slowly.
You can’t tell I did that, looking at me, because obviously, that matters narcissistic ***.
I don’t know why I felt I needed to share this.
Later Damien
Which is strange, given all I have revealed to you about what I think about. It is strange to me too as well. I think I may be getting better? I don’t know really, at least I starting to make a step in the right direction. I think it is good I taught my daughter something in all this, I am not sure exactly what. Maybe, it was my way of showing her I have some level of psychotic self-control. Honestly, a lot of it was that I for the first time wanted her to not be afraid of me. I don’t know if this is the first time I thought that actually.
I think it might be the first time I thought of anyone, but myself at all, but who knows…. I have no idea what I say on this thing.
I am just documenting feeling really. There is nothing behind it other than a desire to be less ******* psychotic so my family is not afraid of me?
I think I am making steps in the right direction at least, they are no longer afraid of me going places by myself, which is amazing because I like walking in early morning alone, and have always had a “”silent passenger” with me watching me, until recently.
I like being able to watch people, who don’t know me, because normal human behavior is rather mysterious to me, and I am trying to learn about us as a species from the outside of viewing of my fellow, I don’t know fellows?
Later,
Damien
Do I make you think of stop and go, baby, do I make you feel like you are few
You are doing okay, okay.
You are new at this, fire kissed
Soul of gaping healing hole
I don’t know what I am doing I am so tired of making stew
I know I am you
Is that how this works
Yes, you are doing good at not being a
JERK
You may snap at people but they know it means nothing
Just say you are sorry and move on
That’s okay it goes on? I don’t think that is true
Yes it is I am telling you
I lost my train of thought I am derailed un sailed a life of GARBAGE PAIL
I am metal kettle tea tea tea does it does taste like
POISON HONEY?????
ISN’T
it’s sunny outside
I think I am going for
HEROIN
You are insane
Well, yes….
Clearly………………..
!#JO:Jo;vwo;rjgo;jeohw;q;
This **** has no
LEGS LEGS
BETTER GET
MOVE IT
Shorty
MOVE IT
I don’t know what I was thinking… I am sorry… I have been having a bad day.. so I decided to gross myself out……Meh. I…. don’t know, I am having a really hard time here. I just constantly feel like ****. I know it is the effects of years of drug and alcohol abuse, my stomach hurts, I can’t eat without feeling like I am going to throw up, not out of pathetic narcissism either, but out of the holes I have burned into myself with the acid bile that was the chaos of my life, a digging at my skin and my face, that has dug me the chasm that is the cavernous existence I live now, a prisoner in a body stuck in a decay cycle.
I was talking to one of the people at the meeting, he made me feel better. He said it gets better, we laughed about how if I am not a *** I will not have to go through this again, asked me if I felt like **** and told me he sympathized because he remembered being me. I like the people in the rooms, man. At least they are real. I am so happy to be out of the lying limerick silent screaming world of active addiction, even if I am living in a cavern of fire skin and retching vomit, in dedication to withdrawal, at least I am not out there chasing imaginary dragons or killing people through inaction.
I hate myself now, sorry….
peace.
Damien
And I see myself only different, the face turns when I don’t turn and the eyes are different, I focus on the black pupils of her eyes and I am swimming in a sea of black tar, but not because it feels like water, it is refreshing and feels to me like kissing,
I hit my nose of glass which is strange because I am now inside the mirror partially, but my nose is not, somehow it hits the glass, and I feel a calling back to life, a psycho shouting, that comes in the Charlie Brown WAH WAH WAH WAH.. I check my nose for glass, for blood, but I can’t tell the difference between the nose, my nose? and the cold, hot, cold water that encircles me and I am okay, with it riding up my limbs, caressing me with warmness.
Bang bang, he shot me down Bang bang, I hit the ground Bang bang, that awful sound Bang bang, my baby shot me down Nancy Sinatra-Bang Bang, My Baby Shot me Down
I am kissing someone who tastes like me, her mouth tastes wrong like it should not be hers because it is mine? How do you touch tongues with a reflection, her tongue dances with mine, and I feel like I am going to throw up but in the kind of way that you feel when you are going on a roller coaster and you kind of like it but you want to throw up because you are afraid you are going to fall off.
I touch her hand and realize I am holding my own.
I look in the mirror is that my hand covered in shattered glass? Or am I pulling a screaming woman from a burning building? I don’t know, she kisses my hand and I cry, I am so confused, I hate me so much and you remind me of me and I love you for loving me but I am also slightly disgusted? Please stop.
She stops, and I start crying, what just happened.
She flashes in and out like a ghost.
I put my hand through her hand, it feels like I am burning alive, with electricity, I think I am losing my mind. I am losing my…
Who are you strange creature?
I am you, from a parallel dimension, we are supposed to save each other.
I heave and I don’t remember what happens next.
If you like opera and metal, this band is great. The lead singer is an ex-opera singer. They have very weird lyrical themes. I like them because they are strange and a lot of their songs talk about insanity. They are ****ing excellent live too.
I am learning that admitting there is something higher than me, which isn’t hard because I am not ever high anymore is bringing me peace, no offense to anyone offended which is ridiculous for me to say because this whole thing reads like a caged man lamenting insanity anyway. Religion is bringing me peace and I am insecure so take it or leave it. There is a saying in AA, eat the meat and spit out the bones. I like the bones. Obviously, and me thinking there is something else in this world than this world, keeps my inner darkness in check. Shot to self-pride, taken. Okay I feel better now.
Damien
I don’t eat unless someone tells me to. I forget to. I will literally sit here all day and not eat unless someone asks me if I have or not. I think this is another side effect of past drug use, which is funny because I never forgot to drink booze or get high before doing anything. I often forget to eat or drink water, forget, or think I am doing myself some kind of insane backwards kindness by asserting mental control over something I am supposed to do to live, “You can’t tell me to be healthy, your an objecting object!” I am insane, and have too many freaking problems.
I mention this now though for positive purpose, I actually just decided to eat on my own, I am eating apple sauce, because I have realized that if I don’t eat with my medication that I am taking for the infection on my knee, I get nauseous and that slows me down from doing what I want to do, which is be on here or whatever else I do that is not important…. God that was paranoid. I lay around watching TV and do odd jobs, talk to my family and do nothing deserving that level of paranoia.
Heh.
Later
Damien
I have spent the last 20 minutes looking at my hand to see if I have infection in it because I have an infection in my knee, which probably is not in my hand because my hand is not my knee. I am missing the tip of my thumb, part of my index finger, and the tip of my middle finger from infections from drug use. I am continuously concerned about this because I am worried about losing more of my hands. I do this stupid thing where I stare back and forth at my hand waiting to see if it becomes infected because I am ^&*&%$#% insane and most likely have brain damage from meth use. I have a lot of problems, I know.. it’s embarrassing, so my transforming hand problem has been a forty minute struggle or so…
I need to stop thinking damn it.
Okay done with the damn hand thing. Now. Good.
I am going to move on now. Go.
This time it worked because I am overpowered by nausea.
My existence is hard. done.
My own mental high fives need to stop, now. I am constantly high five-ing myself right now because I am in a state of imagination and I am bored as %^&$ so I am constantly ego stroking, so I can get off my &^% and do something else.
I am just writhing in agony a lot of the time, because I am writhing in agony because I am writhing in agony. I will eventually be able to move on, externally not from this mental thing. I will be able to move to a place I pay for and everything I want. I and Amanda and me with Amanda as Amanda, but also as the character in this story.
I am going to go back to imagining my own life now, she can’t imagine hers. It’s happening now. I am her future while also presenting in the present, because I am a time traveling invisible man, who is awesome.
I need to move on in my own life too. I cannot continue to be afraid of the responsibilities that I face, I will always be on here writing all the time because that is what I do and I write as the soul of Amanda as well. That is not a representation of either of us being mentally unpresent in our lives. I am present in mine. I am just a writer, who spends all my time, sitting on my computer while also having problems and thinking about how I shouldn’t eat food because I don’t move enough, so does Amanda.
I have the strangest feeling, and it has nothing to do with my recent confession, I am not the center of my universe anymore, my recent confession acted as a freeing from a life dominated by selfishness. With Amanda and me as the same human, I am no longer dominated by a life that drew me inward, fighting myself and obsessing over matters only concerned with that of my flesh.
I have thinking a lot about that concept, the idea that something wanted to distract people like me, and that it put barriers in our way, barriers that were set up by us for us, and enforced with our own continued bad decisions. I am thinking a lot about this because of the quiet of my unified mind with Amanda. She is not dead or gone, I am figuring out, I am unified with her. She is part of me now.
I began thinking about this because of precisely that whole thing, what I mean is… was my two sided war in love and hate with myself a planted distraction by something sinister? Was my divided consciousness divided simply to divide my attention. I notice a lot now, but I am still collecting data, and I will bring it to your attention as I notice it. I am sure I am right. I know it somehow, probably just because I still have the same latent tendencies, but I am telling you this, there is something strange about this. I feel an eerie quiet quite like that before a large storm, and I mean this in the strangest of ways, because I do not speak of anything which I know. I just have this strange feeling that I am running from a wave that I can’t see yet, and this time I am going to be sober because I am not drowning. This is beyond me, beyond my human family. I really feel something unearthly here, and I have no idea what. I will keep you posted as I can, revealing what I can given that I am still a paranoid schizophrenic, and I am not to be trusted, there is some comfort in that, that this all might be in my mind..
Be well.
Damien.
I know you do, I gave it to you.
It mine to begin with.
That’s not nice. It was ours to begin with, and you just wanted to use me as a scapegoat for everything and as an enforcer to get free *(%$ from people.
Oops.
Oops? That’s all I get is oops? Screw you.
Mad bro?
Yes. I deserve more than an oops…
Meh.meh.meh.
No don’t do that… I really do deserve more than an oops.
Sorry.
Thanks.
I just tricked you into learning about forgiving yourself.
Same.
Oh.
I thought that was a good way of describing how I felt and now I have no idea what I meant by that because I thought I heard someone coming so I thought I had to start lying on the internet…. I make no sense, who cares… stop talking about yourself damn it.
My daughter thoughtful enough to bring me a blanket while I was sleeping out here, and all I could think was I am such a drug addict failure, shit in an hour and a half I have been clean and sober for 60 days, who’s a drug addict failure now? Fuck you, self! Take that, do something good and you still feel like shit! Sometimes being pathetic at myself makes me laugh.
Amanda’s brother likes me better than her. I can tell. Which is good because I am her, so enough of that. Day 59 and I am rolling around on a dog bed at 10:30 and I am not high, just insane and stupid!
Later,
Damian
I have recently come to find out that Rei did not overdose, she did not kill herself, I did not kill her. She was murdered by Diane. Diane’s company has something to do with it. I do not understand what yet. I am not sure what the God is writing my story revelation has to do with any of this or if it is just madness. I am not sure about any of this. I have come to a place in my head where I am just taking things as they come and trying to find out more about this girl who says she is my daughter, why she looks so much like Diane, and if she is Diane and my daughter, which would make no sense, because it just did not happen that way. It feels good to finally know that something truly fucked up is going on and reality is breaking or something, because now I know I am not broken.
I thought it was me. I was convinced I was responsible for all this, and now I know I am not, well not all of it anyway, just my part in it, which is okay enough to me. It feels way better than thinking I am responsible for everything that happens in the whole universe….
I was just going to write something that is untrue, I have to keep reminding myself that I did not in fact kill Rei. At times, I could swear that I remember every detail of what I did to her, and at times I forget she is dead at all, but I cannot seem to remember anything that fits with the story that I am being spoon fed by Diane. I am not sure why, but something about it doesn’t sit well with me. It doesn’t seem real, maybe it is just that I am coming close to being happy, actually happy. I am not good at that, but I wouldn’t know because I don’t really have much memory of anything, never really have. I just have flashes of things I think may have happened. I am truly the blindest man I know.
Anyway, I do not know if…. let’s say just as a matter of investigation, if I killed her, why do I not remember it? I think I usually remember that kind of thing specifically. I know I wanted to kill her… I just don’t know. Something about it is strange.
Keep you posted.
Damien
I kind of like this weirdo. He is very strange. He is like a feral cat, that has no idea how to be inside or around anything that has eyes, and can see it. I like watching him while he can’t tell I am, because he is writing or in the middle of some sort of psychotic delusion. I don’t let myself laugh at him in front of him, because I am not laughing at him to be cruel. I think his behavior is cute in a way, he is like a chicken with no head, who I am putting a head back on, excuse the gruesome metaphor, but I think you must be used to that. I have looked over the other works on this site, and I am really glad I found him. Now if only I could convince him I am not out to get him, that people like him, and he is welcome here if he wants to be. I am not one to trap and cage animals, but my door is always open… because like him I am lonely, and my friends have all gotten tired of me.
I am like him, in case you are wondering, I am on and off with being in recovery, because I am tired of the mindless assholes, with meth burned minds, and desperate hands that have no heroic gestures, I have retired from that life, not because I don’t love drugs or alcohol, but because I am so lonely in that sea of morons, it makes it all not worth it.
Yours,
Diane
I just felt like my whole world was going to fall apart because I lost my watch. Why? Because obviously, the fabrics of the universe will tear apart if I am not places, even though I have no where to be and no job I for five seconds thought I was that important at least it was only five seconds this time, instead of 34 years.
I don’t think. I don’t know. I can’t tell. I can’t remember who I was before even, or even really understand what that means, the words don’t make sense to me. I am changing from second to second, so fast I think that I am not a consistent person at all. I think I am going to go back to stopping doing drugs. I mean… I think I am going to stop doing certain ones. I can’t handle this manic thing. I don’t know why I wanted to be alone. I can’t handle this. I don’t remember anything but I do. I remember everything that happened but as if it was told to me. It seems like a script of a movie, that I am upset about my role in. I feel like I am having a hissy fit. I did something awful. I am awful in general and I am having a hissy fit because I can’t seem to wash the blood off my hands.
I am going outside. My finger is healed. I don’t know how long it has been since I cut the tip off. It looks normal now except it doesn’t have the tip on it. I am going outside.
Later
Damian
Her name comes in two parts, and so does my heart.
It has been weeks since we got here. We are in the desert somewhere. I am am working for this woman who lives in a city. We have been staying at these random motels, they don’t notice us because the owners of the motels don’t notice anyone. They don’t pay attention to anyone I mean. I am kind of seeing Dianne behind Rei’s back. I have also told her I will fucking kill her if she interferes with me and Dianne. I want to see what it is like to love someone else, I think I might be able to love Dianne. She is so much like me.
There is something about Dianne that fascinates me. She talks and I am enthralled because I do not want to protect or devour her. I just want to listen, in a way that I have never wanted to listen to Rei. I feel like Rei is the childish love I should have had, when I was 16. I am 36. I deserve….. I deserve the electric chair.
Who am I kidding. I deserve nothing. I am a piece of shit, but there is something that makes me feel better about being around Dianne. I think it is because she is a piece of shit too. I like that about her. I can hear death in her voice. It is strongly fascinating. I can hear death in her voice and it is not my own, or hers, I wonder what the fuck is wrong with this maddening woman.
I was in an abandoned building with Rei, we were sitting talking, and I am not sure if the people who came in after us heard us. They were speaking a different language that I couldn’t quite make out because my ears were ringing, and I hadn’t been paying much attention to anything that was being said by anyone because I was more focused on something that was being handed to me, and I hate myself for that, which I am going to start charging myself a dollar for saying.
I got this strange feeling, like I had been there before, exactly there and that we had done it wrong, and both of us had been burned alive, which is strange because I feel like I remember Rei saying the same thing. We are quiet for a second and they seem to notice a change in the level of presenting sound in the room, stopping and looking for us. I get this strange idea, that I can focus on not being there, and I focus on it and they don’t notice us. To me at the time, I just think I am having an episode, and that for all I know I might already be burning alive.
I wake up with Rei somewhere else, vomiting. I hate how much time I spent vomiting. It’s disgusting. I am disgusting. I put this picture in with this post because this vaguely illustrates what I saw. I made it using some insane fucking program, sorry for my language. I am frustrated…. and yes… I see words in the sky sometimes…
I don’t know, because I cut her into pieces, I am not sure how I did it. I woke up to this. This is a bastardization in that I am a bastard for doing it, and being that I have no idea how to illustrate what I would not dare take pictures of because I was appalled at what had happened, while I was not present in my own disgusting mind… I don’t even know. It looked something like this to me at the time. I think I can’t even tell you, because I don’t know. I remember this piercing sound, earth shattering piercing like some how I had shattered one of my ear drums, but it rotated from both ear drum to ear drum and it didn’t hurt. Tinnitis? Spelling? Spelling…. I… woke up a second later and there were pieces of someone on the ground and Rei, was gone, or maybe I was gone. I do not know.
I was only there for a second, but then I… I don’t know, I don’t know if I ran or if I woke up from a nightmare that was this, but the blood, it was on and off my hands in flashes of light, but not like blood, like a cast color and it burned. I think I might have been screaming, but I couldn’t hear myself. I woke up or was already awake and I was.. I was..
I’m done… I don’t know what this means, and wanted to write this down so I remember it, but I am.. I am.. signing off. I don’t know what else to say other than that I am embarrassed… I am pathetic.
Your hands dance on the flowers, and I can see the same lack of clarity shooting out of your hands that shoot out of mine. I panic,
Is this the reason for your reason for your lack of concern for the people we penetrate with our interference?
I hear myself, as I speak to you and speak out loud to myself. I hear myself, and realize the fucking hypocritical piece of shit that I am. I know that I sound like an arrogant piece of rotting trash that hasn’t done what I have done. I am not saying any of those things, I am saying I contaminated the soul of a human being with a virus that is eating me whole. This power, that paints the flowers with lack, through the manipulation of light, what is it doing to the soul of the woman I love?
I find myself demanding an answer that will stop my hands from strangling those around me, and empowering hers to do the same. She thinks she is helping me and she is, but helping me do what?
What am I supposed to do? Am I supposed to tell her, maybe she will read this, and I won’t have to tell her. That is the other reason I write on this thing… That and I like to play with images of her hands, painting them with power of the internet, using the powers of AI to alter the images to possibly give someone else an idea of the insanity in which I live.
She is the most impressive person I know, and we are creating something together, and for some reason it is making me feel like my life may not be doomed to the damnation that was my virus… Maybe it will go away and I will cease to be spreader of the horror, the mad chaos of death, painting the world with nothing, maybe then it will stop penetrating her skin, and shooting out like blur out of her hands. Maybe, I can stop what I started, and maybe the goddamn voices will finally silence.
Maybe, but I doubt it.
I am probably damned to drowning. I can feel myself drowning. Can you drown with no water?
How do you drown in oxygen?
There are many ways to take a human life, there is the very official way, my favorite of killing a person face to face, which offers the most reward because they get to know you did it. I am an idiot and like this, because I like them to know I stole the only thing that mattered from them, and there is nothing they can do about it. I set it up this way, because I am admittedly a coward, and do not want them to steal my life, so I protect myself, by ensuring this won’t happen. I was born with a taste for death that has been with me… since I can remember and struggled with self-hatred my whole life because of it.
I would be looking at someone and watching their every movement, and thinking about how I would kill them if I wanted to. I would plan out every second of it, this is why I have no friends.. other than the ridiculous Rei, who I do not understand at all. She makes no sense. She seems to be two people, one of them like me and the other, kind and gentle. I don’t get it. I don’t have the strength of mind to have two souls. I like both versions of her. She tells me I am the first person who does. I do not know if I believe her. Maybe, she never showed anyone both versions of her. I do not know, and I do not ask.
I am also very uncomfortable knowing much about her former life, because the other men who populated it make me angry. I am going to leave you with that, as I am no longer alone and have to go.
Damien
You must remember this, Damien.
I didn’t write that, but I am leaving it there for you, so you can read it, and I sound less like the weak raving lunatic that I have come to know myself to have become. I was not always like this, or this bad. I think. I don’t really remember. I do not think I am a dead man. I think I am a dying man, but I have nothing wrong with me. I am not dying in the way every human being is dying. Like I said, there is nothing wrong with me, medically. The hospitals I have frequented for their free food know about the mental illnesses they tell me I have.. I don’t believe they are illnesses. I know that is cliche, but I don’t believe it, in that I won’t take medication for something that is who I am, not an illness.
This is me, and there is at least one person who likes me, the only person who likes me, but I don’t think that is fair because she is also the only person who knows me. I didn’t let anyone else do that.
I am a dead man, remember?
It says it is even in her name. Rei. I am not sure what that means. I think it thinks Ms. Rei spells misery, without the y because why? Because I am an asshole, and I don’t get to ask an illness questions. Okay, I feel better now, so see ya.
Damien
I am writing to erase whatever was on here when I logged onto whatever the hell this is. Something had left and open page, that I will not publish to this site, because I know who wrote it, but you don’t and I don’t want you to. I don’t want anyone to. If it is my one quest, I will stop at nothing to keep its eyes on me, and bring about my own demise, to save the one thing I ever gave a shit about. She is the only one who accepts me as I am, and that was a hard thing to attain, possibly the hardest thing I have ever attained in my whole life.
I am rambling, sorry. It is nice, sometimes to have someone to listen to me… and not have to worry about hurting anyone’s feelings. I can’t see you, so I can say whatever I want. I don’t have to face consequences, of hurting anyone’s feelings.
The presence that wrote the note, does not know Rei. It only talks to me. It talks through me too, which is why I used to torment Rei. I think it is new at human speech and speaks in this annoying sing song way, that makes me want to drill my eyes out of my head. I guess I am telling you this because I am trying to explain away anything before now that was written on here. I can’t do this, but I tried.
Which is strange, because I swear that I only fell asleep a moment..I don’t have a watch, but I feel it. He has not been gone long, and certainly not long enough to be completely out of sight. I panic, and sit for a second, trying to keep a hold of myself. I must not freak out. He will be back in a second I tell myself. I am freaking out for no reason, I tell myself. I know something is wrong. I know it, and I can’t tell you why. I do not know what is going on, but it is something different than has ever gone on before, and even if he returns I am not sure, if things will ever be the same, and that terrifies me. What have we done? What have we done?
Have we done enough to warrant whatever this is? The answer to this is yes, he and I both know this. We know this, and we run, chased from cover of darkness to cover of darkness, wanting nothing but each other’s company while we slowly die of madness. I am not sure if we will…
I look up, I was talking to myself.
“Oh, you are awake, I went for a walk,” He nervously laughs, looking down at his feet, which no longer have shoes on them.
“What happened to your shoes?” I ask with concern that seems a little bit too motherly, and I cast my eyes to the ground, ashamed.
“I…. don’t know…” He looks back at me, and I can see that he is shaking slightly.
“Come here,” He comes without me having to ask again, and we don’t speak for the rest of the night.
I am not sure which is true. I wake up with Rei, she is holding onto me, and go back to sleep and wake up somewhere else standing up. I know I am awake, because I can feel. I have ways of testing my reality because I think I may be fucking insane, so I want to reign it in, if I can to prevent someone from restricting my freedom, I have at least enough presence of mind left for that.
The flickering back and forth happens three times. I am back and forth between Rei and my spot……. and somewhere in a field, where I can clearly see a thicket of thick trees. I am standing there staring at them. My eyes hurt. I do not know why I am staring at them. I do not know what is special about them, but I know something is. They are painted with mist. I say painted because it seems played at, can mist be false?
I begin to walk forward, legs aching as if I have been standing for hours, the kind of aching that only comes from the mental torture of restricted movement. I keep walking and hear a piercing sound, it cuts clear through the night, shattering all sound around it, and then fades and I hear nothing. Nothing. The nothingness is terrifying because it is almost like I have gone deaf, and have nothing around to test my hearing, except, asshole my own fucking voice. I scream, and then realize I am speaking these words to you, whoever the fuck you are out loud, and they are being cast in front of me on a black screen. My thoughts, in the light of the black sky, cast at me, as I walk towards the trees..
SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP.
I was…. I wasn’t supposed to…. I don’t……. she…….
I choked her. I don’t know who she was, she had nothing to do with me. Well, that’s a lie, she looked at me, she looked at me like the damn birds are looking at me as I type this fucking note, or whatever the fuck this goddamn shit is, that I am writing on, Rei’s fucking blog. I don’t know why the fuck I am even writing this, you have no idea who I am, or what my fucking life has been like.
I feel like it helps me somehow… SHUT THE FUCK UP. I wasn’t writing to you whoever the fuck you are if you are anyone listening at all. I was talking to them, whoever keeps sending people after me. They know my fucking name, do you know how fucking disconcerting it is???
She looked at me and I choked her, and I don’t remember the in between, that is what is maddening. I woke up choking her, remembering she looked at me. I am losing my mind. I am losing my fucking mind.
Stop fucking looking at me birds, birds can’t read, what the fuck am I doing?
You are the brief release of the crashing confines of my mind.
The walls of chaotic sameness, that smash into my skin, suffocate the entirety of my being, I never feel as free, as I do with you my radiating yellow sun. I have no out other than you. I am nothing…..
I am dust, ghost, chasing vapors, catching of light, I am a spoon full of nothing but death, and long for the breath of you, one who brings life. I love you, so please, please bare with me. I am fine. We will be fine. I will eventually…. do nothing other than what I currently do.
I will hopefully, I hate… myself.
We go, as we always do, as if we are running from something. I do not know if this is just a feeling or if it is a truth, or if it is something false that lurks in me. I feel as though I am running from something constantly. I wonder what it means. It sometimes feel like I have abandoned a person with that name, a person named Joy, who I do not know, and I don’t why. I know the meaning of the word and it is simple enough to think that I abandoned like a crashing wreck the idea of joy itself. I understand that enough, but I do not think that is it. I keep having this digging feeling in my soul that I have abandoned, like a mother who has a lost or given up child a daughter named Joy.
I even if I close my eyes sometimes feel like I can see her, if I shut my eyes and pay attention very closely, I feel like I can see the blurry outline of this person who should have been so close to my heart right? That would be the way that someone would feel about a child right?
I can only think, that there is some person that was an idea abandoned, somehow….. I haven’t ever told anyone about this, and Damien speaks of nothing like this, but he is a fool, who knows nothing, but stroking his own fragile ego.
We can put her here for now. I throw the filthy bitch to the ground and when she falls, I can hear two of her fingers break, they sound like the snapping of branches. I start laughing, and realize I am alone, where is he? I can feel the slow and steady heaving panic setting in, but I am not sure why? I don’t need him to move, I have no home, so I belong nowhere. It is getting dark. I have no idea how long it has been since he left or I lost sight of him.
“HEY BITCH! OVER HERE!”
I laugh, the pounding stops, and we have dinner, it is some sort of stew, the insanity of normality is astounding.
Four words and back words
For words and back wards
Four wards and back wards
For wards and back words
Four words and back wards
Do you even know what that means???
He screams, as she lies dead on the floor. I don’t know what you mean, please don’t fucking scream. Why am I? Am I talking to you or me?
I love you and all your whores. I love them too, don’t you see?
You should stay with them and me!
I am nice to have around. I am useful, I am wise.
I am okay with all your lies.
You need to tell me nothing, dear.
I simply desire to be right here.
Your right hand man, though girl I am.
I can trick your whores, I am sure I can.
I can catch them for you baby, see.
I can bring them to on bent, knee.
I am useful, don’t you see? How very much you need me?!
I see you now, looking into the mirror,
I see you dancing in my eyes.
My old flame, unreal, as you were.
You were real to me, Damien.
I wish so strongly that I could forget,
That you were all an illusion.
You were my illusion, and all that you did, that
Made me so ill, in you, was every ion of my being.
I miss the idea that you were a flesh and blood creature
That chased me. You wanted me, more than I wanted myself, and I smashed
it.
I smashed the very walls of my own sanity, back from the brinks of the in, and now sane as I am, I wish for you.
I wish so much to hear your voice again, unreal as you were, I wish to be tortured by the sound of calling voices.
No one calls me, and you did.
Now I am truly alone.
I need something to bring them back, the calls of your voice….
T-h-e-m
M-e-t-h
Now I see clearly.
I see in clear vision.
Maybe. Maybe if I do this, maybe you will come back.
Thank you, Rei.
Thank you, Ray.
Oh, what more can I say?
I love you, oh so much.
Do you blush?
Is this a rush?
Do you feel delight or are you in fright?
Being shed in such light, do you fear or feel delight?
Rei, my ray, don’t you see? I am you and you are me.
We are one bound in Ms. Re.
We are one bound in misery.
Remember miss, don’t you see?
Love ya, baby.
I have started to follow the activity of this young girl, who I keep strangely seeing all the time. I didn’t notice her at first, because I usually don’t pay attention to other people in general, being that I am a rather private person and like to keep to myself. I try to avoid making eye contact with anyone, not wanting to draw attention to myself or cause unnecessary conversations. I am not used to talking to other people, well except for Damien. I feel so terrible about things ended between us. I tried calling him, but he didn’t answer, it was weird… the phone number I remember him having back when I used to call him, now says it’s a non-working number. The asshole probably got a new number, to prove a point about how it feels when a deranged lunatic questions your existence because she is having a mental breakdown.
As mean as he was to me, I miss him so much. I wonder what I could have done differently, and if I had been more mentally present and less FUCKING INSANE, if things would have played out differently.
I wish I….
I wish I hadn’t driven him away.
Misery Loves Their Own Company 