There is a land, with no seems or seams, or strings attached to my heart or mind, and I am getting there slowly, very slowly, to a place of lack of attachment, where anything can happen.
In this land, I see you, whoever you are, wanderer, or maybe multiple people, who are doing multiple things, with many people, you exist as an externalization of my imagination, in a world of projection, without the protection of want or desire.
You are the idea, not person, not specific to one person or notion, that anything can happen.
I am so happy, she is so great, I am so happy, don’t know if you relate. She is my best friend, I am her’s too, we will be together, forever with you, is what I say to her, because she is my first love, my sweet one, my honey, my lovely morning dove.
I love her forever, for all time, it will last.
What are you talking about? You left everyone we were with, I wanted to stay, and you made us leave.
This was about you.
Oh, thank you.
There was a shadow behind you, that I did not recognize every time I looked at you, and I never thought about it before, and even though this is obviously not you, because I would never put a picture of you on the internet, and you were born a guy, so you looked like a guy, the shadow is there, so I used this.
I altered this so I put the shadow there, obviously. I am talking to myself anyway, who cares.
Serve me, please, get on your knees, I am addiction, you are my servant, and I am behind all addicts who fake a smile
I am holographic, and I glow, with your inability to admit that you are the same as someone who used to love, who became addicted to the act of push and shove
She hurt you so badly, did she really, was it really Rei Clearly?
That’s not even her real name, you dirty liar.
I came for her because I come for all addicts too, I am addiction and I am what lives in you all, she didn’t screw you over, she screwed herself, in a worship act of bottle on shelf, needle and spoon, all for myself.
Sound familiar, it really should, you are a hypocrite with nose of wood.
I used to hate you, standing over here, seeing you as potential cash.
I am the ever bounced check on my own soul.
No longer bouncing, just burned and tossed in the trash.
I am in debt to you, for having fed someone with hand-outs.
I look at you, and you seem so peaceful, glittering with love for one another, in a way I have never had love for anyone or anything.
Your laughs and voices telling stories of times shared, not taken.
Glances shared paint your lives with love and joy, which I don’t understand, not yet, being a glance stealer, not a glance giver.
I am not good at seeing anything, but at looking and casting doubt and disdain, and living in pain, an excuse for cowardly escape.
I am seeing you now, and realizing you always have been stronger than I ever was, because you need eachother, which means you can depend on eachother.
You look to eachother for strength instead of finding strength in sticks and stones.
That is all.
The growth of moss, happens with the falling of rain, not reign.
Moss grows in areas that have been nourished by water, not cut apart by sowing pain into areas, that can just be left well enough
Flowers are found in those areas, that are painted with unique stories that scream in joy, not pain, speaking not of disdain and staining bitterness, but of the nourishment of rain not reign.
In flames, all is burned, including those casting second stone.
I used to scream and cry, a walking rant, a poke in the eye, but I have learned sometimes to shut my mouth, to prevent a life that is prone to running south. I say sometimes because I am back and forth.
Smoulder’s shoulder is cold, it is icy, knowledge old. It lives in darkness, illuminates lights, seeks to cool not to fight.
The act of smoulder is not death, in it’s ice are secrets kept.
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 am a crab, because I have a shell that is thin but feels hard. I am a crab because I pinch you when you come near me, so you don’t step on me, because I am so pokey. Hahahah. I am heroic.
I am a jerk because I make too many jokes about sowing seeds of
In a dark world, a human being discusses with friends the effects of fear on the human soul, or u los minus one s for something… sickness… maybe… I am
La de de de da da da.
Welcome to disorder, we love you.
I love everybody.
I am dissing my own order, what did I order, french fries, an hour ago, I ordered myself to make them, but I don’t make food for myself because I hate me.
Done now, moving on,
That was fun.
That is called disjointed speech. If I do it on here, it ends faster.
I emptied both of my laundry baskets last night, metaphorical and physical, instead of throwing all my clothes out and saying I don’t need more than the clothes on my back.
I don’t have many clothes, or I didn’t because whenever I would get angry, I would throw my clothes out, or all over the road, or all over the woods, or leave them at someone’s house, or you get the idea. I leave things places, because I don’t need things… or so I thought.. apparently… that is addiction thinking……
I used to hate my family,
Because they did not understand me.
They told me try to get better, because they don’t ****ing understand me…
Or because they love you, jerk.
I did my laundry yesterday with my mother, and she helped me fold it because I am missing three of my finger tips, because I have done things that caused me to get infections in my hands…
I told her I was sorry, and now my laundry is put away and all of it is clean.
They tell me,
“Anger or Defiance is not Polite Behavior.”
I think that is a load of ****.
If I kick this chair, over and over till it breaks, and then say I am sorry over and over, then I did not make a mistake. I am not good at give and take, because it is all your fault, because you take, take, take. So I am going to have to break, break, break
This chair, right now.
I am not a fan of chairs anyway, they are stupid. I don’t like something telling me how to sit. I will sit, however I want. I don’t need a stupid chair.
Look at you, stupid chair, lying in the floor? Who is sitting up now?? Neither of us. I am sorry, by the way, someone nice probably made you, and I ruined it.
I am looking for my dog outside, cursing the universe, screaming in chaos. Running in the streets screaming the name Fiona over and over. I am having a panic attack simultaneously, cursing everything that there is in the universe that caused this to happen.
I forget that I caused this to happen. This is a looking back view of this by the way, brought on by PTSD. My ex’s father just died, and I feel bad because we, meaning my ex and I, not the plural of me, put that man through hell.
I forget sometimes, my own role in the decisions that lead to the situations I am faced with, and I am very prone in those moments, to screaming at something in the sky when I should just looking for my dog.
I have been prone to reverse things…
I would not trade this for anything in the entire world. I am so happy to be able to hear myself think…. I can’t believe the level of peace of knowing that I am not hallucinating, and am lucid, and would never risk losing this. I don’t care about doing drugs ever again. I am normal, well.. as normal as I will ever be, every voice I hear is real. I don’t really even have to talk to my friend anymore because we are merged. Although I still will, love you baby.
I know, but you probably shouldn’t talk to me like you talk to Rei, she doesn’t like it and it is weird anyway.
Yeah, it sounds… weird… creepy…
Have you always thought that?
Yes, but I liked it. I still kinda do, but not the healthiest thing.
Yeah, true. Talk to you later Amanda, oh wait, now we can talk because we want to, not because we have to.
Really? Like real friends not slaves to each other? That would be great. I always wanted that. I just didn’t know.
Me too. I want you to know, Amanda. I really value this, you are my best friend and…
You are mine too. I don’t need you, but I want you in my life, is that what you are saying?
Yes, thank you. I love you, buddy. Nothing creepy.
Thank you, I love you too Damien. I will talk to you later. Have a good night, and don’t worry we will always be okay. I will always be there too. You are my guardian angel.
Um… is that what this is? What was I before?
Don’t worry about it.
I get it. I am glad I can be the other thing now.
I think that is why this bothers me so much, maybe. You don’t stop learning until you die. I think that might be a little melodramatic, maybe… I don’t think this website wants to assume they are getting to hear the thoughts of a dying man, which would not be a terrible thing either… I guess…. because then at least… well… someone would get to hear them?
Last thing I learned…
That it is important to follow the rules, so that is why I am re-doing this post…
Along that line of thought, I learned to not be lazy and that I can do an AA day count on my computer and bring it to the meetings that I go to even though I personally don’t like counting days, there is something to be said for the reverence to structure that in this case is my personal revelation that is not personal at all, powered by God and recovery to shut up and listen.
There, I followed the rules.