I no longer know what the goal of the site is, I write horror fiction, and love letters to myself.
This site is a tool to facilitate the act of seeing clearly, written by hands that used to hurt myself.
Explanation: I am Damien, I speak to my split personality Amanda. I am two people in love with each other, and I am okay with that now.
I have paranoid schizophrenia, narcissistic personality disorder, bipolar II-manic/depressive- rapid cycling, depression, anxiety, hydrocepholus, narcissistic personality disorder suffering from alcoholism, drug addiction, alcoholic. with OCD and PTSD- was addicted to heroin, meth, crack, alcohol, cocaine, prescription pills.
I am drug addict/alcoholic/dual diagnosis/ex-homeless person.
Through dark horror fiction I rake the muck of the lives of street addicts.
Or in plain English this is an epic poem/novel about addiction told about low bottom addicts in horror style.
Tag: mental illness
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 remember standing there with you, but alone, I am not a human being, but one who walks with herd, and cannot answer telephone. I remember walking with herd of sheep, and one unknown. I am not an answerer of call, but a mouth that is sewn, tragically shut, by needle.
I was once a maker of dark colored quilt, sown onto pained skin. I am looking back now, at scarred skin, not speaking of new pain, just of that used to live within, it is no longer, but there is nothing new dwelling in the skin I am wearing.
That is not true.
I know that is not true, but go with me, here.
I am not sure where I am going with this actually, thank you for interrupting me.
My whole is not my fault. I was scre… can’t even sarcastically say this, this is insane, not true, ****.
I am blame.
I am not at fault.
It was fate from the very start, I have done nothing wrong, my whole life, Hell’s theme song.
I am such a bad liar.
My hand! My hand!
It’s got to be my hand, my hand, because I am missing my finger tips on three fingers, my thumb, my right one, the right one, the one I used to write with, not I type with… that has to be the reason that I failed, lived a life of ship has sailed, clearly not that I jumped off, long ago.
Your hand happened, our hand happened when we were 32, you are 36, four years was not all the ruining we did…
You said we, not just you…
I know, I feel sorry for you sometimes.
I know stupid, I am good at that.
Wow, that is disgusting don’t type that…
Oh I know, I thought that too, I am always right behind you.
That is creepy as all Hell.
Guess, what it got us.
It is just as well.
I met a young person once, who I am not sure the age of, he was strange, he was completely blind, and carried around a walking stick, unable to admit it was because he had gone blind, he told me it was because it had magic powers.
I went with it, because what else was I going to do.
He told me that he could use electricity to make things levitate, and in the chaos of not sleeping for days on end, I almost believed him, crazy the things that lack of sleep do to the mind.
I am a rotating planet,
Not important, just overinflated with air
I am so self-important.
I don’t even care.
I miss a lot of things
Looking at the ground to make sure
I will not trip
I am talking to me.
I am talking to me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The narrator hates themself.
The narrator needs to calm down.
The narrator hates themself.
Okay I feel better.
But really looking for rocks
Or darts to toss
In the trash, because you know it is my goal to
FOCUS ON EVERYTHING THAT KILLS ME
Stop it man, seriously.
Why? I am done anyway.
You are helping me,
You are me, but you are also not, and you are helping me.
Thank you self.
I am dumb
Look at me
I am dumb
I can’t see
Just spilled soup all over my hands, so obviously that is everyone else’s fault not mine… hahahaahahah.
Guess who is still winning….
Jab. Ow. You got me. I was trying to talk to you anyway.
I am glad, I was having fun watching you burn yourself, and felt bad about it.
Swimming in the middle of the night, diver dives into pools of lack of light, chaotic swimming without putting up fight.
Chaotic in that there is no sight, site is absent, site is absent, dancing in the black expanse, swimmer exists in life beyond a trance.
Darting hands stretch out in front of no face, melting into outer space.
The nose dive undertaken without knowledge of nose, it is so cold, no feel to toes, swimming in the dark black night, existing only in the cold delight.
I am the act of dissing disease.
Speaking for the human being, who exists in the state of being late to a party they were not invited to, so they came late, and irate, and irritated, and possibly…
That they can’t stand, or in other words, the hated human being, being seen through the eyes of demise depsied by demise, who cries for those who lay in a state of moral decay, by the act of staying away from society.
I miss people, so I am trying to find ones who like me, for being me, not just saying whatever, you want, baby.
I am whoever you want me to be, honey.
My name is Sarah.
I come from a kingdom of dust, and no looking back.
I did a brief inquiry into the history of this house, and found nothing. So I don’t think the ghost has to do with the house, and what is strange is the same thing happened when I came back downstairs, so I am done as of now, talking about anything negative on this site. I will do my best to make this site a positive place, going forward, as I think this is something that is directed at me specifically and wants to me to be angry and miserable. I am no longer going to be serving whatever it is.
That is all for now, in this post anyway.
Peace and love
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.
I am self-assertion, I am ego insertion, I am screaming, I am forcing, I am driving, I am shoving, I am burning, don’t care if you are crying.
I am forcing.
I am forcing.
I am enforcing.
I am understanding.
I am under standing
I am demanding.
I am telling
I am forcing.
I am your soul’s theft.
I am every reason you remember this house you left.
I am the caged dog.
Thinking they are smart,
An individual drives to an animal shelter, they are a good dog trainer, having trained many dogs, of all kinds. They drive to an animal shelter, and adopt a dog. The dog has a history of being used to rescue people from burning buildings, but has hurt its leg, so it is no longer useful for its job, and was put up for adoption, out of kindness.
The dog seems nice enough, it sits scared in the corner, but responds nicely to anyone who comes to see it, however it remains in its corner.
A brave soul adopt the dog, takes it home, and it does well except it refuses to sleep in the spot desired for it.
It instead sleeps right by the door to backyard. Thinking, themself clever, the new owner tries to re-train the dog. They want only for it to experience comfort, unknowing of what discomfort is caused by the re-train process, they begin to try to change the nature of the dog.
It takes one month for the owner to re-turn, unsure of why the dog was so good at first, but when presented with normality it slowly slipped into “untrainability”.
All you had to do was let it sleep by the door
Which it did because it had been used to being in burning buildings
And found comfort in being by the exit
Why do the “normal” find it comforting to force the abnormal to be them?
This is uncomfortable for us.
If we are allowed to be
We can recover
Do not try to change us
It harms us
What brings you to these woods, my woods, what do you want?
You are not desired here intruder, and should leave, having, as you do dominion over the whole expanse outside these woods, while I have nothing but them.
There is no reason for your presence hear, there are plenty of other woods, in areas much like this, that you can row your little boat in the river of.
This is the only spot that has yet to be discovered by the park rangers damn it, and it is the only spot you decided to row your stupid little boat.
Your boat sucks, and I hate you.
**** it. I dropped my cigarette. ****. I hate you. Now it’s ****ing wet.
Having to live my life, I am constantly confronted with thousands of things, that no one even notices, because I notice EVERYTHING. It is insane. Kind of like this jumble of images, this is a visual representation of the dizzying process that is my every day life, an intense focus on anything paid attention to, but otherwise complete blur of intensity, that makes you want to vomit, because it make you dizzy, like these images, this is close to how I see the world, when I am not calm. Close, but not as bad.
Oh, now you can’t talk suddenly, well good, at least this helps clarify what the *** is going on here. Leave me alone, **** it.
What now? I wrote down your stupid thing you were saying at me **** it.
You are always alone.
I know, I am working on it… wait why am I still typing to you, get the **** out of my head.
If you don’t want it, let me use it?
We had a deal, and you said you would let me use it at least sometimes? Remember that? I save your life, and I get to a person sometimes???
I know, but you’re going to **** up my life.
You’re life is already ****ed up, and no I am not. I am just going to.. look I don’t know what I am going to do… but we had a deal, and don’t be an ***hole. I shouldn’t have to explain to you what I do, as much as you shouldn’t have to explain what you do.
It’s my body.
Wrong. It was your’s and then I saved your life, in exchange for you use of human form.
That’s ****ed up.
You made the deal.
I know and now I regret it.
Well, it’s reversable.
I kill you right here, right now, where you stand.
Fine, that was funny, so take it, but don’t give it back with tickets, and this time don’t leave and leave me in jail to pick up peices.
Drunk in public is not even a serious charge.
I don’t care, waking up in a flooded cell naked, sucks.
I don’t like wet clothes.
Neither do I.
Yeah, see you later.
The most terrifying thing, I have been thinking about all night is what if I am actually normal now that I have realized my paranoid delusions are what were killing me, making me live in a separate reality cast as a madman when that is not who I ever was, riddled by guilt of not saying no to drugs… what if this is a higher power talking to me, telling me it is my delusions, and the drugs and alcohol that perpetuated them, making me into something I am not… and now.. now I hear something higher… and I am just listening, actively, to the voice of something that loves me. What if it is just trying to save my life, by telling me to stay away from toxic things like drugs and alcohol, what if it is trying to change my fate through compelling my broken soul to change?
I have been casting my eyes to the stars at night, looking for a star that is different, anything that will say that something is speaking to me, that this is not all in my head. That is some sort trial that is supposed to bind my handto something that is tied to something that is much higher than I could ever have been in my whole life of vagrancy.
I am compelled to meditate in my room, in any room I am in, on this strange call I hear sometimes. It comes to me when I am shaking, or crying in the dark black of night, and the only thing that seems to cure it is church or the powers of over drugs and alcohol that I gain through recovery meetings.
I have always heard this strange music, in my head, when thinking about all this, a chaotic piecing together of sounds, when I think about all this. It sounds like the universe talking to me through sound, but I think I am just insane. I don’t know…
I 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 was happy with her, with a different girl, she accepted me, she was the same as I was…. we both had paranoid schizophrenia. I loved her truly and deeply, I was just insanely ****ing stupid, and got pissed one day because she ripped me off…and that obviously matters more than anything right? Stupid…….. I left and went over to Rei’s or whatever she calls herself…….
I left because she offered to get high with me…****ing great reason… to leave someone right? Some else has free ****. I didn’t want to admit this to myself… that it was all about that. We had two dogs. I left my dog and my girlfriend for another person who said they had always loved me, but more importantly offered to help me on a day when my ex had ripped me off. So I slept with someone else because they gave me free ****. So I deserve this… I deserve her leaving me for someone else, because I did the same thing.
That is what made me turn my **** around. I am out. I am disgusted with myself, with my choices, my life and everything I did to myself and those around me. She even offered to take me back, and Rei offered me **** to stay. So I stayed, like a dog, then we ripped off every single one of our friends and left the area and lived on the streets for 4 years until we almost died out there of freezing to death, and I will leave the rest of that one for later.
I am so tired of the whole thing. I am finding peace in being away from all of this, I think it is ironic that a drug named for a misspelling female hero makes people the opposite of heroic. I am such a piece of ****.
I see no end, to your voice, see no end to no choice,
I hear you in my head, over and over,
Saying things you said, that I ignored, shut you out.
I would at the time rather have lived without
Hearing that you hated me, wished me to know with impunity, but now I wonder, and I fear,
Whether you were right and so my dear,
I am so sorry for shutting out
All words you said, because I live in doubt, had I listened, had I changed, would I still be in such pain??
Would we both be better now? If I stopped using then, had put it down, if I had agreed, done what you said, would I still be alone and dead inside
I am right now. I wish I had something not life without.
I was stupid. I was wrong, and now I wish I just had gone
Along with anything you did or said and maybe I would not wish I was dead.
See there was nothing to save, I was right, you were wrong, and you saved yourself from watching me slowly rip myself into a thousand pieces. I didn’t want to do anything with my **** life anyway.
I am getting better, and I don’t need you, anyway. I can do this without your help, because you never understood… I kept saying over and over I am done, and you would want to go out and have a drink with me. I can’t ****ing do that responsibly, and I told you that. OVER and OVER and OVER and you insisted you could teach me how to drink the right way????
I don’t want to drink anymore **** it. I am doing this now, and you are still saying you are worried about me, and you are still using????? HOW AM I THE BAD PERSON????? STOP CALLING ME.
THIS happened two weeks ago, de Soto.
No one calls you anymore.
That is not true, I have friends…. just not her. Just not her.
I 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.
I used to quell spells from Hell, with spells from Hell, and I lived to tell, and it just as well, because I am thinking well, now, that I have learned something I am not trying to sell or tell to anyone really, just keeping it close, even though I am leary, and in perpetual queery, queerly thinking that I am doing something wrong, like a bad song, or a book too long.
I am still resisting, insisting, as I do, to trudge, on on and on.
I am of unsound mind and body still existing on moving forward, as I do because I am consumed with idea of tomb, punish me, baby.
I am crazy, but maybe I am not. Maybe my mind just runs hot, with dissing ease of soul displeased, and teased by my self, and I need to take my life off the shelf, away from the bottles and the sowing needles, of just as well, a life bound to life in eternal Hell.
That is what my friends say is the end to this wicked spell of perpetual defend and cry and die, and lie, and spy with the ever holding eye of crying dying mad and sad. Maybe I am not that bad after all. Maybe I can do this whole living thing, and maybe I am just punishing those around me, by sentencing sentences to the sound of my complaining, does that ring true to you,
Clearly, do what you say, not what you always do.
Love yourself too.
I am trying to get somewhere, where I don’t know, but I am going to somewhere, which is not where I want to go. I have one objective, objection to where this mother****er thinks we are going, to object through exit part of the way there, so I don’t end up there, just close to there which is where I was going, the man driving just doesn’t know that, he can’t or else I would be going somewhere else which is not where I want to go. He wants to follow me, so he can hurt me, it seems anyway.
How many hours a day would you estimate you spent on your blog, including writing, reading, and commenting? If you didn’t blog, what would you do with the time you currently spend on your blog?
You are asking me how I item-ize my time. How long do I spend on here? Why? There is no distinction between the things that I do during the day. I do not have the ability to space things individually. In other words, I do not know and this question makes me uncomfortable.
If I didn’t blog, I would be doing the same thing I do on here, out loud outside. I talk to myself on here, because I have something wrong with me, and I don’t have an inner monologue. The things I think come out of my mouth, unless I am writing, then I get some sort of semblance of peace for a second, because the things I think about, which are often unorganized fear driven nightmares, are projected onto this screen instead.
I write on here, so that I don’t walk around my house talking to myself anymore. If I didn’t write on here, I would walk around somewhere talking to myself, all day, every day, on repeat for the rest of my **** life.
It does not get better if I quit doing anything. This is my life un-medicated forever.
Which is why I need to get back on medication, which I am going to do. Soon.
My perspective is dead itself, or the idea that I have the ability to even have perspective is dead. It died for me when I was eight years old, when I realized I do not live in reality.
Block of Wood
You happened a long time ago, and every day, because you are a metaphor for mental decay.
I am staring at a block of wood, I do not know how I came to be staring at a block of wood, I do not have any knowledge of how long I have been standing here, I do not know what time I started staring at the block of wood, or where it is placed in the universe, or if I am even in the universe at all right now. I am simply staring at a block of wood in the dark, and can’t tell what time it is. It is that rare time of day or night when it is indistinguishable whether it is in fact day or night. I am not sure, I have no perspective anymore. I long ago gave that up because I am constant propelled into a reality that I am not sure of the reality of, so I relate to nothing, which means I have no perspective. This is beginning to change, but goes right back when this happens, and I have to fight my way out of the dark cavern that is the Hell of my mind.
I do not know why I was staring at the block of wood. I just know that I swear, I swear on everything in me, that I began to see the atoms if I focused enough, that made up the wood itself. I know I am insane, that this is all just hallucination, and indication that I am doing something right, because my mind does this to me whenever I make any sort of progress, sends me forwards, backwards, longways, short ways, and to a position of staring at a block of wood and wondering if I can communicate with my cat better orally or through telepathy.
I was talking to a friend of mine today, and I am not sure, how much of the physical pain I am in is even real anymore. I don’t know if I am just pacing, consumed with hallucinations and trying to meditate on something physical. I used to squeeze my hands till they would bleed, physically digging my nails into my own hands, until I dug holes into my skin. I wonder if this is like that. I wonder how much of this is because I am trying to distract myself from the things that make it so hard for me to be normal.
I wish I knew what it felt like to be normal. I am always thinking of running away, running back outside, I hate it out there.. but I have never known anything different. I have always been running to something, but when I get there.. I leave.. I just can’t stay still. I don’t know what it means to stay still. The idea of still terrifies me.
I wish I could stay still. People like still. They don’t like this, they want to help this, but I am not sure they can. I am not sure about anything. I am just hoping that something will change this time. I am hoping I can find peace somewhere and not hate it. I am so tired of hating happiness. I am so tired of searching for something, finding it and then not wanting it.
I want to want something, but I have no idea what that even means. I am so tired. I am so sick of this. I just want something to work this time, so I can finally be okay with idea of things being okay, I am so tired of ruining my life.
I don’t want the drugs or the booze anymore, and I don’t have any other way of ruining my life, which scares me, which is crazy.. I am scared by the possibility that I may be forced to be happy.. like happy is a bad thing.. I know how insane that is, but still I feel that, and it is the strangest thing.
I recognize the insanity of it, and yet, I still feel the desire to ruin my life, even though I don’t want to.
I am so thankful that at least I really don’t have it in me to do any drugs or drink again, I don’t think my body can handle it anymore. I am so tired… and my hands feel like they are on fire, my stomach is rotted away because of drinking.. I am so done.. I am just hoping that I will learn to know peace at night.
I am not as alone as I think I am. I know I have been complaining a lot about my life. I am just trying to throw up all the negativity on here, so I don’t channel it into my everyday life, like I used to. I think in the past, I have brought people into my life who hated me, because I hated me, and for some reason I didn’t realize they were agreeing with me, because I was hating on myself. The people in my life now are much different, they call me on my bull****. So sometimes, it feels like I have no one, because I assume that worry and concern are anger, and fortunately, I am starting to realize this before I do what I always do, and push everyone away and run back outside to ruin my life again.
I have people around me, I just sometimes become so lost in my own head that I forget they are there. It is cool that the people I have in my life now, know that I am mentally unstable, and suprisingly are okay with it, and help me when I am having a hard time.
I made an appointment finally to see a psychiatrist, due to the advice of one of my close friends, who was so concerned for me, I became concerned for her, so I did it to make her feel better, and now I feel better.
I am starting to feel like I might have a shot at a normal life… and that it might not be as bad as I thought it would be, which is great because everything up until very recently has been terrible.
I would rather cut out both my eyes, so I can’t see to organize than I would do what you say with my stuff, I’ll throw it out, now go away.
I rather do that than hear your voice, telling me where to put it, like it it’s your choice. I do not need your help. I do not care, what you say about where to put what away.
It’s a mess, and I don’t care, what you say, and will not put that there. I don’t want advice, just to be left alone, give me back my stupid old phone. It has stuff on it that like, and yes it works, and I know I have two, but I do not want to deal with you, so get out now, go away.
It’s a mess because I am too, and I don’t want to deal with you, and will not listen to what you say, so throw it out and go, scram, stray.
Daily writing prompt
How often do you say “no” to things that would interfere with your goals?
I used to be completely self propelled, which may sound completely selfish, but hear me out, **** it, I am changing, and this explains how, and that I am realizing what an *** I have been.
I used to trust no one, because I can’t trust my own **** reality, so any interference with my goals.. was met with strong resistance, although I am trying to be more open to the idea that there are good people in this world. I am beginning to trust the advice of a couple close friends, who have become the only people in my life that have began to shift what I believe to be my goals, and by shift I mean establish, and completely alter, by making it possible for me to even have goals to begin with.
I am eternally grateful to these people, and I am so happy to have them in my life, they are truly the first and only friends I have ever had. The toxic people I surrounded myself with prior to quitting my old drinking/using life style are not even considered in the same category.
These people, have the ability to alter my goals. They are more respected in opinion than my opinion itself. I have never had friends before these people. They change my goals every day, by adding new layers of insight to the foundation of who I even am. I did not know this, until very recently, and still do not even know it now. I am learning who I am through the relationships with others I have begun to form now. They are shifting my ideas of who I am, what I could be, and helping me form new goals.
I am looking at you, and wonder how you do that?
That standing upside down thing? That standing inverted thing?
How did you make the world flip over?
I don’t get it…
Please come closer..
I also would like to know…
Why my legs hurt and feel like they may go
Out from under me….
I can see you know by your grimace…
You seem to know something I do not…
Now please tell me….
My face is hot with…
I can’t feel…
Let go, your hanging upside down from a tree. The ground is right below you, let go, and it will catch you, you can even touch it, just open your eyes, you have your eyes shut, you are seeing things not there, your eyes are shut, open them, and get down from hanging upside down.
But, if I did it would be this blog, and helping my friend sell her items, helping my family start a re-sale business, so…
I guess it gave me a job?
Enabled by the world wide web of
Uncrossing the webs of lies of a liar.
Thank you internet, I appreciate it.
I wake up, hearing a street sweeper, my head rested against the glass door of a convenience store, I have 30 minutes, to get my stuff out of here, before the cops come and tell me it is illegal to sleep outside, and then make me leave, which I was doing anyway, and they make it take longer.
It is extremely hard to roll a sleeping bag up with a police officer asking you why you can’t do it faster, and trying to explain how you are missing the tips of three fingers, while listening to him laugh about how
“Well maybe, you shouldn’t have done drugs then!”
I know that now, didn’t know that then…
This lady comes up and asks me what I am doing, she is making this harder.
She tells me I need to get a job. I am somewhere else in my head thinking about how I wish I was a turtle, so I say,
“Do you know how long turtles live?”
She thinks this is some sort of veiled threat, so now I have ten minutes to get out of here, before the it takes one and a half hours and a ticket to get out of here instead of 20 minutes.
all sensations leading down to the sensation of life down drain, extension of pain, after dedication of life spent in vein, I mean in vain…….
I had my own death planned out since I was, I don’t know 14. A clever escape from a life of running a race into nothing, a condolence for a life spent on nothing but purchasing pain… in vain, in vein.
I am heroic.
Heroine, heroine, where art there heroine?
I like to drop the e’s sometimes.
X is one hell of a drug.
Trigger. Trigger. Trigger.
This is fun.
TOXIC TOXIC WORD VOMIT ACID BILE Okay, I am done.
I turn on my computer, and open a word file, got mail from myself.
YOU SUCK, and I hope you die.
Schizophrenic email is awesome, so glad I opened it.
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 used to wash my hands a lot, when I was so elated, that I could have been instated to a psych ward for lack of a pillow because I hadn’t slept in days, because I was so happy
To pace around looking for a place to sleep where no one could
Steal everything I own, hurt me, kill me, or follow me for the rest of my life, so I decided to cause my own strive instead, sitting and consuming my own caustic poisons in dark rooms with friends in that shrouded themselves in clothing that hide their face, like I hid my face, because we hated ourselves so much we desired only to be not there at all, so high above you all… but not really….
How low can I go… I don’t know.. have you ever slept in 30 degree weather in New Mexico in the rain or sleet because you spent all your money on things that were not food or shelter?
Do you know what I felt there?
Over the line…
To a mind…..
The drain….. A human stain on the brain of a person who is now so different.. I am trying to forget, but have not yet, and maybe I shouldn’t, but I don’t know how to move on, and least for today.. I am singing different song..
I am still freaking blown away by this, and thinking of changing the name of this site.
Unfortunately I ruined it, so for now I am stuck with this, and I think I am supposed to learn to release control
‘I hate my life sometimes, because I just want some semblance of control over something, not everything, just something. I feel like I have been in a situation, my whole life… where I am fighting to control everything because I control nothing. I get that I am supposed to stop doing this, and I am trying, but it is like being in a rigged chess game, or that is what it feels like.
How am I supposed to be okay with losing, if I know the game is rigged to begin with?
I know this all just addict thinking, resentment based, my life is harder.. that’s why I got high… got drunk… but my life was the reason I got high or drunk…… I am still in the same horrible positions I have been fighting all my life to escape, just lesser versions of them. I don’t get sometimes what the point of all this is, I guess? How am I supposed to trust something that I don’t understand enough to trust?
I guess I want to change the answer of this post,
I wish I could trust in a higher power more every day.
I am alone in the woods, on a path, in the middle of the night.
It is around three in the morning. I am guessing, there is a complete blackness to the sky, and silence that suggests the birds are still sleeping.
Looking up at the sky, I wonder if anyone, or anything is awake yet, if there is another animal that is like me and drawn to frantic pacing at this time, somewhere anywhere.
I listen for any noise that would hint of any kind of life at all, but there is nothing, there is an absence to the air, that suggests lack.
I breathe and feel like sound is missing from the universe, unsure if there is something wrong with my ears, if I have lost my mind completely, if I am tripping myself out, what it even means to hear at all.
I cough. I can hear myself. There is sound.
Looking up at the sky, I trace the existence of me, as something separate from the night, I can feel my hands, they hurt. The coldness of night bites into them with every movement, a slicing that feels like sharp needles, sticking into them with every movement.
I cough again, and can hear the sound, radiating into the echoing darkness.
I sigh. I am relieved to have released that in this all consuming starkness of light, I am still separate, able to feel myself, as an entity which exists in a universe of parts.
It is very dark. I can see nothing in front of me. The moon is absent from the sky, and there are no stars, blinking, I think I am crying. I am not sure. I don’t remember what that feels like, or how long I have been standing here, and cannot tell if I am looking down or up.
Moving my neck, I figure out I am staring up.
I blink my eyes. Nothing.
I am still shrouded in the all consuming darkness.
It is very cold, the cold has spread from my hands to the rest of my body, feeling like a bitter aching, hurting like sharp knives with each movement, but without the sound of reassuring wind, that makes me aware of passing storms.
I am not sure if this bitter cold, if it is something characteristic of the season, or of it is something I am feeling in this spot, right now that is very much specific to me.
I am the time breaker of minds, the dealer of time in items, for the price of penny for your thoughts-
YOUR THOUGHTS ARE NOW MINE
How does it feel baby? Is it making you a little… crazy?
No, it’s not…..
I like dimes… dimes are neat… I make dimes on the street… I don’t eat because meat is toxic… I like consuming……
Funny spelling, does it speak to you sweetheart?
You are so clever speaking to me with MY voice.
It’s his voice, you are nothing.
It’s my voice.
Sweet. A 20… I make more money when I sound funny… hahahahahahahah..
Look at me, I can run through life so free, no need of sleep or fear of pain, no wonder my life is
DOWN THE DRAIN
I am so excited to tell you that that Louise Swanson’s debut thriller End of Story is out today. It is published by Hodder & Stoughton. The year is 2035 and novels have been banned. However Eve is a writer, so for her it is impossible not to write, and to want to share fiction. […]
I used to be chained and bound, to tree with roots on poison ground, soiled with years of heroic consumption of heroin, meth alcohol, and death, and destruction.
I used to fire fire in vain effort to inject in vein with deathly effort, now instead I have developed a new addiction, a mesmerization with words and fiction, instead of misery mercy through diction. Thank you wordpress for keeping me sane, for saving my life, and keeping from destruction in vein in vain.
Mercy is found when, reflections are made, that bring the eye from ground to sky, that cast the eyes to that which is hire than anything I can fire in vain effort, to fill my blood that is so vital to my survival, with poison instead of being what it is, a gift of life to a soul in diseased strive.
I thank you from the misery of addicted souls everywhere
Check out this kick ass, blog and recipe.
We eat very seasonally. In the spring we eat asparagus as often as we can, which is at least 3 or 4 times a week with spinach or green salad on the other days. During the summer it’s green beans and summer squash every day for months. For fall and most of the winter we… Chicken, […]
Photo by Jordan Benton on Pexels.com Clock’s movements quietly advance Calendar pages keep turning Realizing now, time so precious Yesterday, never returning Today, now galloping away Each moment quickly discarded Vanishing minutes tearing up Uncertain time left unguarded Tomorrow arrives much too soon Yesterday feeling incomplete Searching for one more treasured hour Empty […]
Thank you for your inspiring words, they keep me going, I was having a hard time over the last few days, and you keep me going in the right direction. This post is the only way I know to say thank you.
Daily writing prompt
What tattoo do you want and where would you put it?
I am sorry for the exposure to my… insanity. I am just being honest, and thank you for accepting me, it means the world. I am grateful. That is the word that describes me, a description of how I feel, not what I have wrong with me. I am so thankful.
PUSH PLUNGER GO ON THE EYE OF A NEEDLE RIGGED WITH SPENDTHRIFT DEATH
Forgetting is a tragic problem I have, but it is getting better, as my ego dies, and I open my eyes to the fact that I could not see, because I was sick and deranged by a disease strange and prone to mange and change human form, to distort and contort the human body, and make it unrecognizable to the have-
er of one.
I have been know as a chaos chaser of dragons, a pusher of substance, and prayer in holes of foxes, in ditches, in alleyways, a shooter of heroes, and a placer of ins and outs in acts heroic so I can go without doing them, pushing them in with sowing needles that stitch me out and in to a quilted madness in the bed I was making and would have to lie in and lay in, in death.
I have come to a place now where I can go home as well, well too.
This home allows the chaotic night to continue without my pushing assertion of madness, and it is a little quieter minus one night crier night crawler, who now sleeps and dreams.
DUDE. NO WAY. I KNOW I JUST ANSWERED THIS BUT **** my other answer, I did not remember this when posting it.
THIS RULES. I AM NOT FAILING TODAY!
Trigger warning: This is about drug seeking and effects on my ability to be confident in friendships I have, due to emotional immaturity. Drugs mentioned. Do not read if sensitive to this kind of thing.
For no particular reason, I am very sad right now, so I think about the particles in the universe, I think about pieces of sand, so tiny, and so together, part of a body of sand, and I long to be a particle of sand, that is part of something else, and never alone, but I am always alone now, and I am so sad.
I say no particular reason, but that is a lie, I know exactly the reason why I am alone, I chose this every time I used the phone to call someone to pack away all the feelings I have, everything I want to say with acquisition instead of inquisitive mission to know anyone but those who are on a mission, now I am in a peculiar position. I don’t know how to make friends, and I know I already have them, but I don’t know how to have them, I don’t know what to do next, so I am stuck in the land of anxious guess, addicted to pain, and in a land of washing rain, why can’t it wash away the stains on my damaged brain. I feel like I will always be insane.
In vein. In vain. In vein. In pain. Disdain. No more pain. Please send me soul cleansing rain.
I know you don’t know me, but I am lonely, and I want to know you, whoever you are, whoever is lonely too.
I am very sad, and want someone just like you. I don’t know who you are, I don’t know why, but you are like me, and we cry with similar cut eyes.
I hope you are okay, I am not. My head is hurting, my hands are hot.
My heart is broken, I am alone, and I hope you hang on, person who is also by unanswered phone. Please don’t be sad, I am sad too.
I don’r want for you anything I feel too.
Can we just pretend for today? Just pretend that we already know each other so you will be okay?
I am lonely too please don’t give up.
I want to meet you. Don’t die before we meet up.
It is an insane release of tension to write dark horror. I don’t care what anyone thinks… I am going to do what I want now. I am an ***.
I am trying to be more honest and am not going to do the whole fake it thing, I am still the same **** with dark thoughts, I think the key is to find outlets for my rage issues and not hurt myself or bite people’s heads off. I think it is a good outlet for repressed aggression and makes it easier for me to not lash out at people around me. I am very passive aggressive and have a lot of repressed rage I channel into writing…
I decided to leave a party that a random stranger must have decided to organize to celebrate the Spring Equinox. I was not acquainted with any of the parties occupants as I had not been invited, so my leaving was of no consequence to any of the participants in the costume party. I had a hooded jacket on that had been long enough to pretend I was dressed appropriately enough to pretend that I was invited and came as some sort of modern hooded reaper, which was appropriate given the reason for my leaving.
I had become nervous while talking to a women who was dressed as a woodpecker, she was laughing in this hectic desperate way, and it was maddening, her jaw chattering and I kept thinking of the sound of a woodpeckers beak on wood, and thinking about how different her head would sound if I slammed it over and over into the tree branch that was so bright and illuminated by the light of the moon. Rather than then prolong the uncomfortable death meditation, I took the rest of my pitcher of stolen booze and walked off with preference to animate the already dead corpses in my squat house.
I used to live in the woods, really I did. I spent an entire 8 months in the Oregon dunes, somewhere and everywhere in Oregon. I lived there and survived by clamming, and panhandling for food money, and don’t feel bad for me, I made 200 dollars a day, so very promptly after getting there, I developed a nasty attraction to bitter rocks that ate a hole through my hands and my soul.
They chased me to California. I walked there, I think I mentioned that before, high as a kite, I flew on the feet of the dragon, and the wings of fallen dreams to the state of California, with an angel of mercy sent to me whose name ironically was Chris, he sang like a bird the entire way. He was a beautiful singer. My arrogance and pride caused me to walk away, literally from one of the kindest human beings I have ever met in my life, without even saying goodbye. He screamed after me, and I ran, fleeing kindness for California, where I would meet what I was running to, an empire of pain on the sullied streets, I thought I desired so much. I am sorry Chris, you were kind to me, and I should have at least said goodbye.
I no longer care about bringing praise to myself, but on shifting the eyes of those who experience the pain that was so real to me for so long. I want to help those who experience pain, any pain, like me, away from that pain towards something, anything that stops that pain, even if it is just for a second, if it can be for a second or for an hour, or forever. I want to help, because that is what I feel like something else higher than me wants me to do, so when I am inspired to, I am doing this, as an atonement for a life of selfishness, when people tell me they see this. I am happy because that means I am doing the right thing, the thing I know I am supposed to do instead of serving me, like I used to.
Look not to what I say or do, but to the source of where my work leads you, away from the pain in my words, and at what saves me, whatever you think that is. I am asking you to always reflect on joy and see pain, but not dwell on it.
I am complimented when my work helps someone, because then and only then do I know I am doing what I am supposed to.
I just look. I am constantly watching, and have been granted the ability to continue to be. I talk to the powers that be all the time. They speak back because I talk to them, nothing more nothing less. I am very prone to screaming at the sky, joking with sky and smiling at the sky. I also talk to the air, to the birds, to animals, to the stars, and to every human who talks to me. I fear no one because I feel that my point is to be until I am not. I have always felt this way.
I falter in that I am an addict. I assert my will when trying to acquire things that make me forget that I see things that no one notices, because they aren’t watching. I almost died a lot in my life, I am very prone to foxhole prayers, making deals with the spirit in the sky and then breaking them. I think that has been my problem. I am hoping that through me writing this, people get to see what I saw, see it is real, and understand the screaming night criers out there, our reality is just as real we are just awake at hours people aren’t and we listen to a force no one else bothered to ask what to do, or we are consumed by another one which overpowers you and drives to act in pure will assertion, I have called this Misery thus far. It is the desire to force will to get what you want at all cost, it is pure will assertion that dominates a person and forces everything to bend to it.
Misery is derived from the word miser. That is what I have been, that is what I fight to change.
When thinking about this the word avarice is pounding in my mind, don’t know why but, I looked it up on this etymology site and this is what came up.
This all seems to suggest to me that will assertion is what is to be avoided and that if we flow with ebb and pull of the universe it will be revealed what we should do.
I borrowed time, I know this now, I experienced more of it than most people. I did not realize at the time that I was not borrowing it… well not exactly, I was being lent extra time by something that deals in a currency of spare change. I was being lent time in exchange for something, a deal made with something beyond my understanding, that knew me better than I knew myself, than I know myself now. This force knows everyone. It understands everything, and you can make deals with it, without knowing even. You can make deadly bargains that you don’t know the nature of that are not dealt to you with good or bad intention, simply intention itself, raw intention, raw will, there are forces in this universe, propelled in a direction of will, of will to be as they are supposed to, and if you fight those forces, you will experience, pain.
It is this pain which I fight to reverse now. I have realized recently that the assertion of deadly force of dominance is the opposite of what the universe desires. I have been made aware by the pulling in directions, that there is a force which punishes the assertion of will over the forces of a balanced system. This is all that I know right now.
The sound of automation is mesmerizing, the clicking, the shuffling, the beeping the whirring, shoving and blended talking of all those on the train, who do not know me, and don’t know anything about my past. They have no judgement of me, preconceived or otherwise, busy with their own business. I fade into the background, and watch a world I left behind for a dance with a siren who wanted to rip my soul from my eyes.
My eyes are free now, and look around, not dominated by watching her, they are free to be their own, not called to the service of a master, they watch as the passengers go about their quiet business, and I am inspired by their composure, ability to be so normal, the train is a zen garden of little people, not screaming in overinflated hot blow up doll chaos, they keep to themselves, and I keep to mine, in my mind. I am thinking about leaving this place, misery, and doing something else, thinking and sure that this time, I mean it, because she should not own my words anymore.
I am going to board a new train of thought, and then hopefully get myself together enough to go on a train and do something else.
10. I am very very fast. I can run faster than anyone I know, most notably faster than this guy whose girlfriend paid me back my… rent money. I loaned it to him.. because I am a nice person? It was 400 dollars I got for standing in traffic at a light, and I am not the kind of person who looks good doing that… so sometimes they pay me to move, it takes a couple hours to make 400 dollars, like 8.
I stood there for 8 hours and had enough to pay the rent for the month or um… make tragic mistakes, you know dice roll. I decided to play double or nothing with my friend who is my business associate at well, well after this, his girl was my business associate and he was my **** for about 2 months. He wanted the power back from his girl.
I have a very um… aggressive approach to business, so people give me what I want.
Being impervious to death helps too… which is why I am turning my life around because I am realizing how I write this what an *** I was, because I think that something saved me all these times, and I proceeded to give it the finger, so it chopped my fingers off? Or the tips of three of them? I don’t think He or them or it really did that… I think it was MRSA and me being a ****.
Moral of the story, I am an arrogant **** , but I am trying to tone that down so… 5 on confidence..
Rushing through everything, to serve you, the way you wanted it.
I devoted my whole life to you, now I am haunted, by the hole, you burned
In my soul, and mind, in bind, with time, maybe I can put you behind, like the piano we pushed down the street, in the middle of the night, and then the fight we had,
Because you know I am bad?
I wanted it to be fair, but you didn’t care, my **** your ****
Your **** Your ****
Too bad, so sad, push your own piano next time, hunny.
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.
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.
I am listening, and I have an instant reaction to something you say, and I react and for a second feel okay, I was honest at least, that’s a step right? I am not lying, I am being honest. I am okay with the world and feel like I am doing the right thing.
Then I think about what I said, and the whole world lights on fire, a fire not burning with flame, but with different colors, that I have never seen before, because I have never experienced a world of color before. I have always lived in black and white, never dealing with light of day, with human being, ruler of land of push away. I sit and agonize over things that are tiny and stupid, and then resent myself for doing it, no one does this. No one has to, they are not stupid. I am stupid and think about stupid things.
Then I realize that they know that I do this, and I think I am in some way better than those around me, and that the fact that I do this makes me superior to them, and that if they only knew how specifically hard to be very specifically me it was they would
DRINK USE TOO
I just got this, that this is the process of what I usually do, and that by taking a step back and not hating myself for doing it… helped me. Thank you random stranger in the park that told me this.
Time makes me scream, it makes me dream of things that don’t make sense or cents, that is not true liar, you have made plenty of money in time.
Yeah, but I spent it all on dimes.. I traded it in for dimes at the cash machine.
I congratulate me on a day where I was only an ***hole last night, and complimented random individuals in the food store aggressively.
They seemed confused.
I have OCD, along with the other litany of problems I have already listed here, heh. I got my hair cut, which is awesome because I didn’t have to pay someone in drugs to shave it all off because homeless people can’t cut hair, and I wasn’t so itchy that this would seem like a necessary choice, so yay me for getting my haircut and getting a normal hair cut so I don’t have to shave my head again. That sucked, I think I mentioned the whole mohawk **** thing… but if I didn’t some ***hole shaved my head into a split in half mohawk, and told everyone to look for mohawk ****.
Short sweet, and very fun for mohawk ****. I got a lot of sympathy, and a lot of free items.. and they found out the wrath of mohawk ****. Then mohawk **** needed to leave, because there was a rumor that I had a twin and one of us was a girl and the other was a guy and the only difference was the voice… convenient… till they found out we were both the same person and it was me beating my ass not my twin brother or vice versa… very bad con…
I threw my phone in the river at around the same time because I thought someone tapped it looking for mohawk **** because tricking junkies is a high crime… and people really give a **** about that kind of thing…. or something I thought when I was way too high…
My dad is a really great person, we had a really good time, he was talking to me about his life, making me laugh, and we went to a really good restaurant and I told him I am done with drugs and booze the rest of my life. I also got to make plans with my uncle to see him at Christmas for the first time in ten years, and say I was sorry for being a lying ***hole.
All in all a successful day for mohawk ****, or me with a shorter hair cut that looks nothing like that at all.
I just got back from hanging out with my dad, and it is cool how different things are now that I am trying to makes things right, I talked to him about all the chaos that I caused, continue to cause because I am prone to delusions, and how sorry I am. I noticed that saying things like this keep me from drinking, keep me coming back to a place, where I can stop beating myself up and are making it possible for me to walk out of the woods where I kept taking the wrong path on purpose and falling in random holes because I thought I was going to find secret gold in rocks I found on the ground.
I think the metaphor for drug addiction and eating rocks and drinking poison instead of doing the simple thing of eating food and drinking water is hilarious. I can’t believe how much my thinking has changed. It’s funny I was convinced everyone is out to get me when this is more true…
Same word re-arranged…
Same word re-arranged.
Hero in pushed together it forms a drug
Divided it references a hero in me
Heroine with an everlasting e it makes me a hero for saving my own life.
I used to just consume ****ing other things, and for some reason thought if I drank water sometimes, I would feel okay. I think that is why I was losing pieces of my hands… stupid…
It’s kind of cool though… You don’t need the tips of all of your fingers, to be functional. The right thumb thing was the worst.. I am missing half of it.
I am such a ****.
I just made a really bad joke, and feel bad about it. I suck at life.
Explanation: Shocking, I am trusted to not have to leave, if there is no one here to watch me…
Pond, not Stream of Chaos
I am a duck, apparently, because unknowingly
I have been teaching myself to be less
Like that, so now I can be alone, and not have people
I used to be constantly floating from place to place,
In a race with the human race to consume my tomb in the form of drugs and doom and alcohol which I would viciously consume, in doomed ferocious style, in front of all I know
sowing shame and guilt while also showing pain and guilt through vicious attack on self but also on others eyes, making people cry without knowing why because I am selfish. I am becoming not
I think… I guess.. don’t know…
I am a duck in a pond, that is just okay enough with me for now, to not drown
I am not going down
Because I don’t want to
Un-spun I am no longer undone.
I am glad to be trusted, un-dusted, still rusted, but dusting off.
I have been courted all my life, to dance with loaded gun or held knife at my Neck, by myself, on a shelf, which of course is what I think because, baby I ****ing stink, I smell booze, in heart and soul, still drunk but dry, sometimes I know.
I reek of anger, creaking madness, rocking back and forth epic sadness, dark reflection, not staring at mirror, but bashing crashing and dying in epic fear.
I am loaded gun, I am dark resistance, I am tragic, insistence, that though I am dry, I am GOD. I am responsible for divining rod, punishing me, I am insistence on trying to be my own
Soul forsaken, breaking me, tragically, beginning to see how epic my failure is.. or simply that I am an addict who needs a higher power.
I loved you, any of you who was with me, I thought… but now I don’t know, because it always ends the same
You are insane
THEN GO! I KNOW. I KNOW. I DON’T CARE. I DON’T NEED YOU. NEVER DID NEVER WILL I HAVE MYSELF
All you need is love..
All you need is to shut the **** up.
I need no one, but myself. I need to put the drugs and alcohol on the shelf, that is what I need to do, and I can’t do that with them, I can’t know that I am not going to do this again.
I can’t even be my own friend damn it.
I know, Damien.
I break up with me, every day.
I know, Damien.
I know, Amanda.
I know, me.
I know both of us.
I hate me too.
How the **** am I supposed to like anyone else if I can’t even look in the mirror, I hate everything and everyone because this sucks and it is hard, and you make me nervous because I know everyone is thinking the same damn thing that I think about me
YOU SUCK YOU SUCK YOU SUCK You suck?
That’s what you think?
That’s what we think. They think. I think.
Do you think this is fun for anyone, who the **** would want to be around this? I don’t even want to and I am this…
Then stop doing it.
I named myself See Clearly because that is not what I do, I do not see clearly at all, because my ego it is tall, or it used to be I mean, because I am a liar, a whiner and a wine-r, or not really because I prefer whiskey, or anything that is risky like heroin or meth or how about crack or death? You know things like those, things you stick in mouth or nose, or suck through glass, because I want to die, and that’s not true, what I really aim to do is..
Get the *** away from all of you, because you make me anxious, because you hate me, or maybe I do.. I don’t know… but I feel it when it you look at me please ****ing go. I am telling you go away, **** it! I hate the idea of panic and judgement, I hate you and everything you meant
To say, but didn’t, I can hear you thinking **** it, or maybe that is me? I don’t know the difference…
I guess… it’s me… what makes me anxious is me…
and addiction and lack of control and framed photos of animals in suits..
I sleep in oblivion because obviously sleep must be partially that
Because I can’t remember it and that is oblivion right?
Hmm… being dead or asleep, meaning having no power and receiving pardon or amnesty?
Just realized I called myself my own ex-girlfriend…
I just told people the truth so now I am going to die, I just told people the truth so now I have to STAB OUT BOTH MY EYES
I don’t know why I do this…
Because you love death’s kiss… ****
I don’t though really? Do I?
My heart is pounding really fast… and I feel like I am going to crash into everything around me and I am dying but that is not real and I feel like I want.
Jump into a moving car.
SCAR SCAR SCAR SCAR I am very far away from reality, circling a
Dying human stain…. remove remove remove
remove remove me… from this..
You think this is going to work don’t you?
GO SLOW SLOW SLOW SLOW SLOW
In the darkness of night, no one can really see me, because I am not there at all, I am death’s call, I am the act of stall. I am the toll of the bell of the night, I am the activity of a dying fight, I am the passing of anxiety, I am the feeling dying slowly like everyone else, I am cares cast away on a shelf where they can’t touch me, because I am far away, they can’t touch you dumb*** they don’t know where you are… and aren’t interested in you and you are just trying to write to save you from drinking what is wrong with that?
His name was Chris which is ironic, because he is a christian, so I think it is a set up somehow, like somehow someone is sending someone to spy on me and naming the characters they send after me in mocking style, because obviously I am that important right? Didn’t realize at the time, how ****ing narcissistic that was, and it is only now, that the paranoia is starting to fade, that there is not some secret plot to take me down specifically, because I am just a lying drug addict alcoholic, and I am not sure why being a serial killer sounded better than that… I have no idea.. it made me feel less powerless… I think.
I am very angry at myself about all this, because looking back at it, I realize how much of *** I was… how even though I thought I was always getting ripped of and deserved so much better, how much better could you expect your life to be when you are con-artist who panhandles for heroin, and basically tries to make people afraid to not give you money. I used to make 200 dollars a day doing this, the key was to look like you are going to rob them for more than they give you freely, and then if you get caught, you are a pretty girl, and you change your voice, and Damien is your ex boyfriend who put you up to it, and he hits you and you just want to get away.
I was such a piece of ****.
I love ya, hunny, and it shows, or showed, when things were going well, you know? When we were loaded with lots of cash, and didn’t have to worry about you stealing my ****ing stash, but now I am sorry sweetie, gotta go,
Because you know what, sorry, baby, we’re in a rut and as much as I love ya, you ****ing ****! I hate your stupid ugly guts, so take my money sweetie, I don’t need it, hope you like it, hope you keep it for longer than one day, because sorry dear, I am staying away.
I am walking to California, and so my dear, I am going to warn you if you come near me, I can say I will bite your head off, and make you pay, because I have a rare gift don’t you see and sounding like guy I still have these? So now with the power of two in one I am pimp and whore with loaded gun.
I will take out your eye, don’t touch me ****er, and if you say anything I will make sure your luck
Is in the ER ER ER ER
I am watching TV with my family, well taking a break from it for the second, to write to you, whoever you are. My family being my real one, not the one I lied about.
I am sorry for that. My friend told me that honesty is important. I think I was making myself worse, but I am really sad, and I wanted to have something so bad I made it up, and then ran out of things to say about it, because I stopped needing it, which means I am getting better I guess… I have started helping my mother, with starting a business reselling things, I am going to start going to therapy. I have friends now… I just go back and forth, and fantasy is a way for me to escape. The thing is I have a hard time with the whole powerlessness thing. I don’t like it, but someone I know was telling me just being honest with myself helps. I think that this is where I should start. My friends thought it was funny that I found it easier to pretend to be a serial killer online, than to say I am an alcoholic/addict in recovery.
I just have so much rage at those who took advantage of me at the very end, that it was easier, making myself into some sort of masked avenger. I am not that, I was just and am just an angry lunatic with drug and alcohol addiction who disowned their family to live on the streets and commit petty crime to fund my addiction.
That is it plain and simple. I will reveal more in poetic metaphor because I am paranoid because I have mental problems.
I am very back and forth, a torrent of pain whirling around in a sink, that I kept pulling the stopper of, and I would let parts of me flush down it, not realizing that I don’t get them back.
I pulled the drain over and over, chopping off pieces in my madness, I would let parts of me fall into the sink of destruction watching as I slowly disappeared and using it as an excuse to drink or go soo…….
High into the sky, I felt lost, but free, but I got stuck up there, so high up there.. floating.. in nothingness..
I with real eyes, with non-blurred vision now, that the state of elation I was looking for, was inside me all along, I get the same high now, sometimes, when I am not doing poorly, and I frequently am, but I am trying.. through this, writing to you, imaginary person, and I love you so much for saving my life.
I don’t always remember this, in my cycle of drain life, but I remember it enough for it to be a small way to get out of the drain.
Something set me off, and now I am insane, I am searching for a cause, but there is not one, not that I know of, because it was something small, that should not cause fear at all, but you sick my mind is thick with sickness, un-perceived by me, so I have to do this sometimes, write about
NOTHING, unpacking misery stuffed into a soul filled with everything and
NOTHING I am you, I hate everything you do, you are stupid too, you do nothing right, you are a sick loser, in perpetually fight, hiding in dark night.
STOP IT **** it.
Please stop it? Please?
If I get on my knees, will you stop it?
I like it when you..
**** you. **** you. **** you. I am not listening anymore. I am not listening to you, because you are not real. I am a human being with feelings that are real.
YOU ARE PATHETIC.
YOU are pathetic, you are not me, speak for yourself buddy, not mine.
I am done with you.
Good, I tricked you, it worked.
Meditations death of resentment.
Re-vision- Soul re-stitching, threads of misery replaced with kindness.
I used to lie, cheat, and steal
In Misery, only would I deal.
Suffering was my main course meal.
I did not eat, I lived on the street, and in pain and suffering I did deal.
I was a cheater, a liar, a thief, if you met me I would make sure you fell beneath…
Me in every endeavor thinking, I was so clever, but really only
Now, I am trying to be different.
ER ER ER __________________________________________________
ER ER ER _________________________________________
I love those around me, it makes me uncomfortable and I use horror to deal with it, because it scares people and makes me feel better because
STAY AWAY I AM SENSITIVE LIAR LIAR
Who do you think you are?
An addict trying to redeem themselves.
NO ONE CARES.
I do, so I am posting this.
“The world’s a hard place, Danny. It don’t care. It don’t hate you and me, but it don’t love us, either. Terrible things happen in the world, and they’re things no one can explain. Good people die in bad, painful ways and leave the folks that love them all alone. Sometimes it seems like it’s only the bad people who stay healthy and prosper. The world don’t love you, but your momma does and so do I.” ― Stephen King, The Shining
The tortured inn keeper, thinks no one who stays at the inn cares about the inn, thinking that the ins and outs of those without the responsibility of caring for the inn indicate a lack of caring,
That is really coming from within, a manifestation coming from the desire to
Of one’s self, pushing those around
GET OUT NO
I am you
The caretaker is a drinker, they think this is because they take such good care of the inn, that they deserve a reward
AN ETERNAL REWARD
Manifesting in alcohol consumption or consuming
They consume it on the regular, but it is not important the frequency just that it eats their
ER ER ER
ER ER ER
The innkeeper talks to me about keeping fires, about the duties of keeping an inn, and about the need to do things to keep the inn, like make it a little easier, by consuming poison.
I am a frequenter of many motels, so I have met many innkeepers, such tortured, kind hearts, that do not know their goodness.
I forget sometimes, that I have glasses, getting up in the middle of the night and crashing into walls because I did not put them on. I walk without them frequently and cannot see clearly, because I have gone without them before, for years when in active addiction.
The eyes of others, guide me, but I am paranoid, debating internally with universe, I question intention constantly, seeing things they don’t and debating with myself what is real while they are just walking down a street undisturbed, knowing none of what I am doing in my mind, while they walk peacefully next to me.
I clean my lenses, real glasses not metaphoric often, caught in an OCD futility of see clearly, forgetting that I see things others do not, and I am left to wonder, am I noticing things that matter or do they only matter to me?
I talk to those who no one hears, because no one notices them, they stand on street corners, muttering into what they presume is the dark night, but I hear them, and engage them. To me they speak of us not only of them, they have the same reality as me, and they seek to defend
It to those who say it is not real, knowing that it is, in their mind they feel,
So I say to you are they really that wrong, hearing voices, and the gong of death? Are their cries of madness from a reality left? Or simply different because they see things you cannot? Is their reality poison or are they simply caught? Captivated by thing you hear not?
Distracted by things you can’t see, that we notice with fervent impunity?
I am standing on a street corner, this time metaphoric, not real.
I am looking into nothing, or myself, whichever one you choose, overcome
By voices, this time internal, not external, not externalized, not demons with painted on despise eyes, not lies or falsehoods, but inner truths, painted because I am listening to me and to you. I am listening closely, with intention to hear, because I have spent a long time, not doing so, with desire to unfeel.
I am wondering what it means, what I do, now that I am focused and listening to you. I am wondering if there is anything, anything at all to any of this for a personal who notices it all. I do not know where I fit in, if I do at all.
I am standing in the middle of also on the side. Existing in the middle, because before I did not have the time, I did not make a choice to listen before, to me, and to you, and am wondering simply in this place, where I stand, what am I to do?
I am told over and over, just watch and to be quiet, but I am confounded with the presence of a mind that exists in riot. I am not trying to assert myself, not this time, but simply to understand, what is the place for my dark mind?
I am not sure sometimes, if I am being guided by the hands of the universe not individually as some lunatic with some mission of importance, but simply some wind-watcher, air listener, tragic tour guide of no one, standing outside in the middle of the night debating shadows that cast on the walls of the houses of the towns I walk through, or right now live in.
I am awoken, by the fighting of very literal cats outside my window, and my mother’s dog is yelled for by my stepfather, he can’t find her, she woke up and he took her to the bathroom and she took off and I can hear outside my window, so I wake up, even though he is focused on something else, I tell him, what is happening and it helped him understand her, and helped him find her.
I wonder how many times before, was I too high or drunk to even hear the cats fighting, and what this all means.
Is there some value to my lunacy, that helps the universe in any way?
I hear things, I hear phrases, they come to me, constantly. I get stuck on them, a decoder of messages coming into my mind, that could mean something or nothing, who knows, but I decode them on here because it helps me personally deal with them, and not shout them on street corners, or talk to myself while pacing around in decaying madness. I noticed with this one, that I put in the title, reckless abandon, that if it spelled like the above, wreck less abandon, that it means something different.
the broken remains of something wrecked or otherwise ruined. (dictionary.com)
The broken remains of something of lower rank or importance
Wreck less Abandon
Read this way
Someone of perceived lesser importance, removes prior restraints causing lesser importance, and turns to mission of more importance, which is removing inhibitions or restraints, or the chains of addiction and helps the abandoned or lost of society.
Just a thought, through language dissection of schizophrenic thoughts.
Extremely disturbing content: Meditation for myself- do not read if triggered by anything for lovers of abstract dark horror, not intended for those triggered by anything.
Trigger Warning: Mentions drug/alcohol abuse to show mental change in writer who is becoming less arrogant and better informed in recovery
Trigger Warning: I lied, this is a hallucination powered by Misery
I am. I was. I am not the same. I do not have the same thoughts. I do not have the same name. I have gone. I have left. I am permanently changed, I have severed all ties, I have cut out my eyes, I am never the same, permanently change, removal of stain. I have changed my stupid name. I am done, un-spun rewind-ed, rebind-ed, reminded, unconfined, un-twined
Mind designed by me, arrogant yes, but not, just addict caught in re-wiring, and desiring new thought, because FIRST THOUGHT WRONG.
I see flat lines, and dead eyes ______________________________
Is she still still there?
SHE has never been ANYWHERE.
Trigger Warning: About sex workers and drug addiction, and feelings of longing for love, but also needing drugs in active addiction of heroin/speed/alcoholic addict physically dependent on substances to remain not physically ill…About selling love for money, and the effect it has on the soul and damaging effect on ability to find real love.
Item Eyes See Itemization of Love, which is not sent from above
Tick- prick- stick-pin prick- Oh, that felt, like-
I will never be loved until I love myself,
But also like I need no one else other than me, because I can buy love with time and money, minutes spent on standing on a corner holding a sign or getting in cars with strangers, or peddling
I will never be loved until I love myself
I will never be loved until I love myself
I hate myself
I hate myself
I hate myself
Stop. The clock will not move forward in a state of
Look back, it is important to remember and forgive not remember. remember. remember. romance the drug. resent. romance the drug. use.
Need to find a middle ground, recognize what you did, admit it and move on.
TRIGGER WARNING: About sex workers or prostitution, and revelation of moments of clarity, mentions drug use and is very graphic do not read if you can’t handle this. I am writing for my own recovery, and to cleanse my own mind and soul.
You were the last man to touch me for free, and now they will never touch me again, because I realize, I charged with the charge of a heart scarred by being untrue to me. I did not want to be with any of you at all. I was not that kind of… person. I charged for the scars to my arms, to my soul, to the eternal burning hole in everything that it is to be me, and give things heroically in falsehood because what I was really doing was buying letters carved in human skin that told stories of heroic-ness, but what I was really doing was sleeping with people for free drugs… nothing more nothing less.
We search your basement hideout for your **** which you already did, I know because we did it together, but you don’t remember this, because we were together for a second, being together in love with each other for the brief second that rocks are thrown on table,
Rock, paper scissor
Scissor, I cut you out of my life, toxic friend, and all men, that make me exchange sex for bitter rocks, cast at my soul.
I am up to the dubious task of trying to do life on live’s terms, although I am doubtful I will succeed, uncertain that the methods employed by others, will work for me, because this whole life on life’s terms thing…. is ****ing hard, and how can a bunch of people who seem as unsure about everything as me, living in doubt and hesitant to do anything without first consuming a mind altering substance…. How can I remain undecided and unsettled by something that is not unconfirmed… It is not undetermined, it has history and its outcomes are definite not indefinite… I have seen it work for other people, why couldn’t it work for me?
Although, I feel unresolved….or up in the air, wavering back and forth…. back and forth… vacillating from I am an alcoholic… to maybe… I could just have one…irresolute in my resolve to absolve from the consumption of this toxic solvent, that solves nothing… but…
I can not live my whole life in quandary, I am in a dilemma, that I have been in my whole life, my tempter the vicious disease of addiction puts me on the horns of a dilemma, pitted against the metaphorical demon of addiction…
Although I may remain skeptical, suspicious and iffy of the outcome, I decide to not drink just for today.
Thank you to recovery from addiction, not curing me, but making me realize that quitting drugs and alcohol can give me a life beyond anything I could have ever imagined. I have a family, and I love them, so much. I did not realize that I had crafted lies that were dictating a future of misery and pain, which was making those around me miserable, and that is not far because my family loves me so much.
I am making amends every day right now or trying to because they stuck by me, why I don’t know….
Because they love you, and they are good people, and they deserve love and hugs.
I know. I am doing that now.
Thank you self.
I just did.
I always think of you today, and want to drink because I used to drink today
Because honestly, I used to ****ing drink everyday, because I am an alcoholic, But that dig at my pride is unnecessary, just trying to be more honest, so no one stabs me in the back… which is funny because I am the master of vicious drunk attack, which is why I have no ****ing friends.
They aren’t dead like yours, they won, they are still having fun doing what I can’t because I came undone, and now my life is devoted to becoming un-spun, so I guess I won? But, sometimes it’s not ****ing fun, and I feel like I am done… I just want to… that’s a lie….
STUPID ***HOLE, what do you want to do die?
No, I want to poke out both of my eyes. Or stab myself in the
Back? Front? Chest?
What like your favorite artist?
What a conquest.
I had a friend of mine really help me today, they told me something that helped me realize why I have been having such a hard time. I think that I have to do everything the right way the first time, if I don’t I get frustrated and experience feelings of PTSD from trauma from addiction and I start to hallucinate, and think paranoid thoughts like the bananas in the advertising in the store are there to taunt me, because the people who run the store know I am a thief and know that I am there and are doing this at me to taunt me and people like me, because they hate us and its a conspiracy against us, perpetrated by them, who is everyone who is not us.
My friend told me that this is just symptom of PTSD and that it will get better if I learn to forgive myself gradually and then the guilt will go away which is actually behind these episodes. My point being that I was able to take a step back from this paranoid thinking, and realize what was going on, and take myself out it to the point where it stopped happening, this has never happened for me before. I am so happy for this being a thing for me. I really thought this was not ever possible. I thought I was not normal and not ever going to be able to permanently change, because I was broken in some way, my friend told me that is just addict thinking, not unique to me, and just saved me from ruining my own day.
See Clearly- Trigger warning- mentions drug use
Mentions drug use- for my healing- not trying to trigger anyone- direct mention of drug use for my own healing.
Margin Eyes for Marginalized Margins that stand on the sidelines doing lines so we lalala can’t hear you
I was so high high high above you
oh so lovely to be free from humanity because I couldn’t deal with how much I was afraid of being hurt that I hurt those around me, because I was bullied as a child for having learning disabilities and hydrocephalus and schizophrenia and bipolar disorder, and depression and anxiety and narcissistic personality disorder and PTSD and anxiety and depression and tendencies towards aggression.
I am also an *** who makes excuses for the fact that I am an addict who wanted to get drunk and high and makes excuses for the fact that I am selfish and loved getting drunk and high so much I would make any excuse I could to continue doing shots, lines, smoking, toking, doing hits… than giving a **** about anyone but me.
There is no excuse for me, I am sorry.
Trying to get over it…
I run from an eight ball, or a ball of drugs on a pool table, that is also symbolic for how afraid I am of myself, that I sought death and intoxication above being ****ing human.
Make me human.
I am running, which is not true, I am doing better
Look at me! Look at me!
I am so insecure, and I am sure that it will eventually go away, but I don’t know what to do about now, when I don’t want to drink or get high but I am so afraid of people poking me in the eye, that I do it to myself over and over because it feels so much better than you doing it, which inherently I know you don’t want to do anyway, but I like to show dominance through pain, because it makes me feel special and important and so very unique.
You reek of selfishness Millennial.
Oh, good one cheap shooting ****
You are an idiot.
I am a flat line, drawn in the sand, killing insecurity with an imaginary massive attack of stop doing this now, forgive yourself **** it.
I felt better as an internet serial killer, that was my version of The Punisher,
I live in fear of being happy, because I don’t want anything good because having things you want makes it so you can take them away from me. I don’t even want it to begin with damn it. Take it!!!!!!!!!!!
I’ll show you how much I don’t want it. I will make you all get away from me!
That is why I act the way I do. I am literally a child having a hissy fit, and I realized this today.
I never learned how to deal with things like an adult, so I am going through it now.
Sorry for the continuous explanation, I am explaining it to myself, really.
If you have the time, please click the above link, because I feel like it shows the dire situation facing this poor state, that has such a complicated face already. I read this and almost started crying because I used to live there on the streets, because I traveled there to get away from my ex. I saw such a dual face, the human beings that are stuck out there on the streets want help not available to them a lot of the time because of the way drugs are treated in California, and the way handouts are valued over in-treatment programs, rehab and recovery.
There are many like me, who were still using on skid row because it is easier to get a dealer to give credit then it is to get a person to buy a sandwich. Just saying. Some people want to quit and don’t have the strength to figure out how, they are addicts not to blame because they have a disease called addiction which causes a deviant response to alcohol or drugs, deviant in that it makes alcoholics react differently than others to introducing alcohol into the body, making it a stimulant for their sick brains, rather than a depressant. This is a paraphrase of literature on the subject.
We are sick, deranged, strange creatures, not bad people, and I cry for California’s streets and for the lack of another thing that propelled positive forces there, the dying of their farms.
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.
Peace. I am okay now, and everything is about me, and I just hit my vape way too hard. Ow… dizzy.
So sorry I have no choice but to not pay attention to what I say fighting to go away in my mind, while I speak my voice sounding like awkward door creak, screaming cry or breaking glass, pound on floor, or kicking ***, awkward and unpleasant I am, I don’t know why anyone stands to be around me at all, why they won’t let me heed the siren’s call of death that comes to me in night.
I don’t know why they want me to stay here, just to fight with myself and with them, stupid ideas pushed by the desire to defend nothing but my desire to be right and to be in constant fight, desiring only to hurt and push away so alone I forever stay, everyone please go away… I can’t handle you in any way.
I am weak and you are not, my temper is quick, it make me rot in corners where I sit alone, hate voices and hate the phone, I don’t get it. You say you do, but how can you, that is not true. It makes no sense, it really doesn’t… Sometimes I wish I simply wasn’t……
I don’t know why I can’t say anything I really mean without being incredibly mean, I mean to say I do not know how to disagree and guess it shows because I either hide or kill and don’t like no’s or yes-es or opinions that differ from mine, and prone to silence or telling lies, and so I have been resigned all my life to sit and stew and not dare ever talk to any of you, because I fear my biting tongue, and ever present lack of resistance, utter insistence on being right and love of the act of fight. I am a jerk, a pain, a whiner a crier, a lover of war, of pain and fire. I am mean and I am ruthless, but my arguments you see are not with you, I do not hate anything you do.
They are with me, and what I lack, and my constant desire for attack and death smack. I do not know what to say, so usually I just go away, sit alone and drink or use, and my soul I sear with cold abuse, I am trying but I suck at this, I do not want to do this, and I miss things I never had because I live in fear and I can’t stop because I can’t drink beer or shoot up drugs, and it is not solved with getting hugs or sitting peacefully on rugs or talking to people you say will help me, they do not know the hell it is to be me
I am just simply without words, and I mean it when I tell you it really hurts living alone because you can’t do life, living in constant strife and being tempted to cut with knife, the very fabrics of your fragile life.
I am trying but I can’t right now seem to see what makes you so happy and so free, I am stuck to sit and to think that maybe if I cannot think of anything else, at least I know, I am trying, hope it shows.
I can change my voice to sound like a man or woman, it is like nothing you have seen coming, I am my girlfriend and my boyfriend, person with four hands that will convince you that is someone who is me is after me, and will stand there laughing, while screaming please save me, he is after me! I am a master of deceit and lies, crafting whole worlds based on the idea of woman despised when I am really man with blurry eyes.
I am the one who is beating me, I speak only deceiving me, everyone already knows who I am, they can clearly see me, spinning webs and telling tales of loves lost and ships sailed that never sailed because they don’t exist, I don’t own a boat because I have lived my whole life in spendthrift style, grabbing at purses with feigned smile. I am so sorry, I am desperate, I had a hard life and just need this little bit of cash to buy a train ticket, so I can get away because he is after me, meanwhile he is me and laughing
I am the one who was always crafting reason for passing blame and shame
because I needed drugs not hugs or shrugs or doves or hope or peace or love or bliss I wanted simply this
HEROIN, a sweet kiss of death an maybe some METH.
I am trying here, I am not a good person, and live now in fear. I am sorry for what I did and mean to say in attitude of a little kid, I was so sad don’t you see? The one I was really fooling was me.
The quiet ramifications of a life of pushing everyone away, or I am surrounded by silence because I pushed everyone away.
I hate it because it reminds me of what a failure I am, I have lived most of my life, lying to myself. I am unhappy because I am alone, and have spent my life drug/alcohol seeking. I do not have any friends, my friends I had are all dead or don’t talk to me anymore, so I sit alone all day and write on here and I hate it and love it at the same time. I love that I am no longer surrounded by the negativity I was surrounding me before, which I don’t want, but it also reminds me what I have missed because of my choices. I chose to dedicate my entire life to drugs and alcohol a magnum opus of failure. I am alone all the time forced to reflect on all the bad choices I have made.
I lived as a homeless person, squatter, bum, panhandler, conartist and petty criminal for the last 17 years. I was on a constant mission to fuel only my addiction while obtaining a master’s degree in public policy which I have used as a way to skirt the law. I have not committed any serious crimes. I have panhandled, lied, cheated, gambled, and conned my way through life. That is the truth, the full truth and no lies.
I am finally beginning to like myself for the first time in my entire life. I have never liked myself my entire life, I did not realize this till just recently, I hated me, so I was constantly defending myself to myself, I did not realize these were not always schizophrenia, but personal demons that were very different than the voices, they are easier to deal with and have started to subside now that I have begun to remove the toxicity from myself and my life. I am so happy to be free of all this. I am so happy to be free from everything that was making me so miserable, every day, and it’s so silly because a lot of it was me doing it to my own self. I realize that now, but the thing is the position I was in was partially responsible for everything I felt, not in the taking away accountability from me kind of way.
I am accountable for all the things I have done, but that does not mean I need to destroy myself over it and resent others for the things I am doing to myself, with my own hands. I am sorry to those that are hurt by me, to those who I metaphorically killed, because I am not a real serial killer, just a personification of addiction and manifestation of the guilt of an addict who did not realize how much they did not have to put a mask on the truth that they blame themselves for everything.
I was Amanda, but I am becoming myself, Damien de Soto, take it or leave it. I have never killed anyone, just facilitated the death of addicts through never saying stop using when we were getting high together, my daughter is real to me, in my world of future, but she is not real for Amanda yet, and I hope you understand what I mean by that I was not lying when I said anything I said, but rebuilding a soul for a life that I thought was already over, as Amanda and built for me, her future self, I am very much real because these are her real thoughts and feelings, and my family represents families she just recently new and one specific child who she never stood up for because she was getting drugs from their parent.
When asking what I did about my daughter, I was relieving a past feeling of resentment. Amanda called child protection services on someone who she had dealt with in the past, because she did not like what was going on in that house, and she and I were asking the universe if it was done out of resentment or if that was truly the right way to handle it. I think it was, she secretly does too, we both hope the kid is alright, although we never followed up to see if they responded to our call.
Thank you for your support it means the world.
Damien and Amanda, but mostly Damien.
I just went to a meeting, and had the most intense experience I have had in my entire adult life, better than any high I have ever experienced, better than any good day, any high, any feeling I ever had that was what I thought of as love, I am amazed at the power of just being honest right now, and was just lifted up by an entire room of people who are my friends now, and I didn’t even realize it. They care about me, and actually like me as a person, and I have never had that in my entire life. I have never had friends that weren’t business associates that were tied to a life of well… you know. I am blown away by the power that honesty has. I am so free right now, from everything that was racing through my head yesterday. I think I am beginning to understand what the whole serenity thing means.
I realized that a lot of the time, I get caught and stuck on something,
They tell you not forget the past, so I got over-focused on it. I think I am realizing that there is a middle ground for me, and I see it, and it is great. I feel so much better now. I am finally beginning to feel like there is hope for me after all. I am so happy, but will inevitably be back and forth about this, I am told that is normal.
Thank you for listening to me.
It means the world.
I have removed all the toxic content from this site, that was making me want to drink or get high. I am done with that life, and the people who made it seem so much better than the very simple life that I have now. I am so happy to be done with all the garbage.
I am sorry for negativity that I put out there during all of this. I will be trying my best to move forward, and make more contributions to society. That being said a lot of horrible things have happened to me during my life, and writing them on here helps me. This is free therapy for me, take it or leave it. I am going to try to be more positive, but that does not mean this site will not remain what it is. It is a horror story. It will remain a horror story with positive undertones.
It was this guy ranting about how prison doesn’t sound that bad
Free place to live
I thought it was hilarious, but then was immediately grasped at the neck by anxiety and asked her why she was showing it to me.
I hate being schizophrenic, I have done nothing that would cause me to worry about this, but that is my instant reaction. I hate being insane. I didn’t snap at her. Small steps.
You should dye your hair red they say to Amanda, and I am in the back of her mind or screaming audibly in the sky, ask yourself why they are telling you to do this? She thinks I am being paranoid. I think I am being paranoid. I don’t think I am being paranoid. I don’t like this girl, and it looks like her hair is spray painted red for quick removal, like someone would do if they wanted to convince someone who is drunk to copy them as a cruel joke and then reveal they never did the thing at all, and they were never drunk to begin with, which we would have noticed if we weren’t always so drunk, every day.
The girl with the red hair has a name, but I am not saying it to protect the paranoia of my other drafter, she did terrible things to me and Amanda.
A rumor spreads about me having red hair. A rumor spreads about someone jacking cars who has red hair. A rumor spreads that I was seen at the scene. I wasn’t. I was in the hospital being treated for MRSA, from an infection that came from dirty drugs.
It’s funny the things people I have known have done to protect their addictions. Screw that. I like coffee better anyway, at least it doesn’t come with blood in it.
“Wherever they burn books, in the end will also burn human beings.”
– Heinrich Heine
EXPLICIT CONTENT: Post uses poetic analogy for the addict backed into a corner and told to drink, when this happens we sometimes attack like a killer or a vicious dog. This is metaphorical only, I have only ever killed anyone with my silence, not saying anything as my friends died in active addiction. These are allegories in all gory glory.
We are in a basement, a base meant for debasement of everything I have ever come to know to be true about myself. I am looking into the eyes of a woman who I used to know, I still know her, but I am choosing to forget this right now, not now but then.
Rei hands me a bottle, it had booze in it. I think she is handing it to me to drink it, it is everclear, funny name for alcohol that makes you so unclear..
I get pissed, so I put a cloth in it soak it in alcohol, by dipping it in the bottle, the smell of it disgusting, I hate it. I am sickened by the smell and want only to get it off my hands. I light the rag on fire, and she tells me the girl who sits in front of me wants me to drink it. I have been up for five days, and I would have known that what she is saying is not true, had I not been high, and been thinking clearly not thinking under the influence of things that cloud my mind.
I throw the burning bottle at the woman’s feet, Rei thinks I did this to burn the woman alive, and laughs. I was aiming at the book on the floor, the **** had a copy of a book about alcoholism at her feet, hating the irony I want to burn it.
The girl burned alive, because I can’t look in the mirror.
I watched because I couldn’t figure out how to put it out.
I was always hearing your voice, Rei, and mocking it, telling myself that I needed to attack Amanda, attacking my higher power, attacking myself, when I should have been attacking not you, but everything that you were shouting at me. I thought it so essential to focus on the service of your demands, thinking you were a bird singing to me in beautiful songs, but you were not. You were woman who was very good at mimicking bird songs, who controlled the behavior of an insecure egomaniac who hates himself. You were my Lady Macbeth.
I feel this stronger than ever now that I thought about all night. You were very similar to Lady Macbeth. You wanted conquest, not of the world, but of the land that we live in, Misery, or addiction so that I could bring you drugs. I thought I was doing you a favor, a drug dealer, a hit man and a servant of a woman who wanted things so bad she was wiling to destroy the soul of someone she said she loved. I am realizing you did not love me. You never loved me. You loved your drugs, you loved my doting on you, and you loved the lack of accountability that came with being a mocking jay. I think I would have to say if I had to be an animal I would be crow/mocking jay.
I know this is against the rules, but is not paranoid schizophrenia against the rules, as well?
I say that I would be this because you used Amanda’s voice, my best friend to speak doubt at me, because she sounds like you, speaking like a woman, and I being an idiot would hear your voice, Rei in my voice or Amanda’s voice, that is why I was always trying to ruin Amanda’s life and she was always trying to ruin mine. She was hunted by Justin and I was hunted by you, so we thought ourselves chased by each other, when honestly, we were star-crossed lovers, who were lovers only in that we were inter-dimensional invisible men, insane, fighting madmen from Misery dimensions, trying to fight ourselves. I am so glad I got away before you killed me you harpee, you miserable creature, medusa, siren of hellfire, you will not longer use the call of bird to torment me any longer.
Crows, are intelligent creature, who make tools to catch bugs, they are the only bird who has the ability to do so, they have several calls they can make, and they are good at mimicking the voices of other birds. Amanda would be the mocking jay because I see now she had always been trying to mock you, not the other way around. Telling the difference between the two of us with place keeping device of how is Rei, as if to poke me and say do you realize you serve her the same way you served drugs. I am the servant of no one. I am not even good at serving myself food or water, I quit being Resentment’s waiter.
It is so quiet in my head, in this place, in my life right now, and while I feel more alone than I have ever felt in my entire life, I also feel more free than I have ever felt in my life. I am so done with killing myself over my past. I realize now that is what always destroyed any attempt at happiness before for me.
Amanda had a Rei Clearly, he is her ex as well now, and a lot of what you saw me go through was what she went through with him as well, she is afraid of him, so personal details about him are very limited at the moment, and will be divulged as she sees fit through herself or me on this site which now belongs to the two of us, as Rei is no longer going to be around me and has no contact with my child because she is not her biological mother, and I am not going to allow her to do what my child’s real mother did to her. I am not letting anyone mess with my kid anymore.
This includes myself. I am going to try to be a better person now, think less toxic thoughts and help my daughter live a better life than I did, which includes keeping her away from toxic people who talk about my drug use in front of my daughter who just did the same drug, which I blame myself for her even thinking about using.
Will no longer have any part in this site or my life, because she has decided it is more important to be right than to be a friend, or be supportive of he sobriety of someone she said she loved. I do not have any harsh feelings towards Rei Clearly. I just do not want anything to do with her, and wish only the best for her.
I will try not to speak of her much anymore, which is why I have removed her name from this site. I am still processing all of this, so while I say I will try to not post about it, in the upcoming days I will because I am extremely hurt by the whole thing, because I truly thought I loved her. I am learning now that I had no idea what that meant, and I am going to try and figure out who I am before getting involved with anyone else again.
I am going to try to make this place go in a more positive direction which means removing people from life that want to make me over focus on the negative things I have done, and keep me living in the past. I am still in contact with Amanda, because I am still half her, and will be posting as both.
I am done with focusing on only negativity, and apologize truly and deeply for the public hissy fit and fighting that was my posting from last night.
I will try not to do that again.
She chose to stay with me. That is huge for me, she doesn’t need to stay with me, she can take care of herself, and she stayed with me because she is worried about me and for some stupid reason seems to actually like me. I don’t know why. We are staying here for now, and I still standing by the whole SCREW REI thing. I do not know how to change the name on this site, and I like it, so she gave it to me because she is not a bad person, we just hate each other now.
I can’t stand her, and I know just the other day, I was saying the opposite, I am an idiot who is bipolar. I am going to try the whole life thing out with my family, which is just her. Screw anyone else for right now.
I like the Lion King a lot because I like things that don’t take life seriously, because I don’t want to take it seriously, even though I take it more serious than I need to, and put myself through hell because of it.
I wish I could be the kind of person who is able to laugh at the darkness the way I pretend to but I do not actually think the darkness as funny as I pretend to. I just do that because it is easier to do that than to cry out loud and hear myself sounding weak in front of people who are strong enough to realize that being strong means feeling the very things that I consider to be weakness, and being a human being who loves and feels fear, and lets other people hurt them, and hugs people and is kind. I am not good at any of these things because I like to do what I want when I want, because I am selfish and an addict. I am not a bad person, just crazy and I am trying every day to be more like those I admire, the kind people of this world, who act with bravery and give hugs and love life, who laugh and love and share and are kind to each other, I am trying to be like you ever day because you inspire me to be better than I have ever thought I could be. I love you guys. I love every single one of you. You inspire me to be better than I ever could be.
What? Be like you because I am not and that is so unfair, especially since I am supposed to be the evil narcissistic jerk, isn’t that what I am? Right? I am the one doing this to me? So let me do it to me and leave me alone? And if you hate me so much leave me alone. I am a wreck, we have been over this, so leave me alone. I am not going to pretend anymore to not be. I am done doing things you tell me to do and then having you tell me to do something else, pick something.
I am who I am and if you don’t like it, I will leave.
I hate this.
Leave me alone.
I have always been back and forth in my own head with ripping people to shreds and calculating the exact right thing to say and delivering it to the person, and then thinking I am holier than thou for doing it. I am trying to learn to just say what I feel, but it is really hard for me because I know what they want to hear and have gotten so used to manipulating people to get what I want. I don’t want to be like this anymore, but it is hard. I hate receiving anything but accolades, which makes me hate myself, because I hate how I sound. I know I am narcissistic, I get it. I wish my brain would stop beating me over the head with it, and I wish I could stop blaming myself for being honest, because if I do what I always do and go back to saying the right thing all the time, I am going to just reward myself with getting high or drunk and I don’t want to do that either. I wish I could divorce myself. Haha.
I am having a really tough time, going back and forth in my head, I think is because this is the longest I have ever made it in recovery, I am writing this for me to remembering how much I hated meth at the end.
I need unpleasant reminders sometimes: Trigger warning about coming down from Meth
I am standing outside in the rain, it beats down on me, pounding against my hot sweat drenched skin, it feels good, mixing in with my sweat drenched meth soaked fire skin, that itches so badly I want to rip it off.
My clothes cling to my body reminding me that I am human and a prisoner, in a world with locked doors, I am smoking a cigarette, praying over something that does not deserve a prayer, do not let it go out because I bummed it and bummed the light to light it and don’t have another one and if it goes out, the 10 minutes of peace I have before figuring out which bridge to guard for the night while clenching my teeth and hoping to find a person selling the antidote to my upness… In other words… please don’t take my ten minute delay.
I need this yellow light of slow down of
Traffic beeping so loudly in my brain, I can’t hear anything anymore, the rain mixes in with the screaming of an *** that’s drugs were clearly better than mine, ****.
For a second I envy his madness, and then remember, that I have been up for five days, and they aren’t even working anymore and I need to find a ******* downer…
And some booze, and a lighter, and this isn’t fun anymore, I wish I could lay down without feeling like there were roaches all over me.
I hate my life. My jaw hurts and if that **** doesn’t stop screaming I will stab him… Did I say that out loud or in my head?
Did I say that out loud or in my head?
Screw you too, I am talking to myself, because I am crazy, and it’s raining and no this is not your bridge!
I will stab you!
Oh, yeah bite me!
I know you forget this often, I love you. I am not saying this out of some weird desire to do something deviant, and stroke my own ego. I know that I sometimes forget that I am human being, that I have feelings to, so I hope that this finds you not in that state of mind, which I imagine it will because of how I feel right now. I love you, self. I am not saying that to be psychotic, and I am not doing it out of mental illness, I am doing it because I am trying to put a post it on my own fridge in the future. I want you to know that no matter what happens, whatever ways you fail, things can always get better if you just keep trying. I know this now, so I know you know this too. I just wanted to remind you that you love yourself. This is not weird or wrong. It is something everyone else does, that I forget to do because I used to use it to make excuses to hurt myself because I am an addict and alcoholic.
That is just who you are. It is no different than having ADD. It is a disease that causes lack of ease and makes you think things that justify doing things that are irrational like killing yourself with something that poisons you, because you have a deviant response to alcohol because of an allergy your mind has to it, like being allergic to oranges. Don’t hate yourself because of this, you are allergic to latex, do you hate yourself because of that? No. Same thing.
I think it is funny how the **** that I used to be married to thinks she is so above everyone else, and she is worshiping idols herself. She thinks herself some great nihilist, running through life capable of doing what she wants, and does just so, but she is worshiping an idol herself.
The battle raged on and on Fuelled by the venom of hatred for men Consistently, without the eyes to see By those who revel in sewer equally
Dimmu Borgir, Progenies of the Apocalypse
I like looking into the dark and light, sorry. I am not of the opinion that the eyes should be shielded from anything, I like this band, take it or leave it.
They are black metal, so be warned, these guys are insane and worship things you shouldn’t. I write horror, I think of these guys as writing horror as well, they just worship the horror they write, and that is their right to do, I just listen to it as a reflection on what I do not want to do, but it is interesting outwardly, and they are extremely talented musicians, whatever their personal beliefs are, which conflict with mine, I am not going to not listen to music because of differing ideology.
Anyway, point being, my ex is an idiot worshiping erected god Misery or virus of addiction. Moron that she is…
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.
You have no idea how it is to be in the bathroom without looking in the mirror, most of the time, I would just shut my freakin’ eyes, which is a pain in the ***, and led to many injuries that were not about being intoxicated, but a lunatic, that had gotten sick of cutting my hands on punching out glass mirrors. I have never looked like myself, in reality or in Misery, I have always looked different, and I would do anything to get rid of my own reflection, even attempt to rip out my own eye, which is why I never touch my eyes. I am still afraid to touch them because of PTSD from one time I tried to rip out my own eye.
I was tripping and unaware of the distinction between reality and dream, I had been awake for days rolling on dxm, and had taken some acid and was either over tired or I don’t and became overcome by the idea that I could do anything I wanted with my hands.. like rip out my own eye, because that is what you would want to do if you realize you are free to do anything you want… I am insane… getting better though… at least this doesn’t happen anymore… small steps.
You killed I will make sure your blood is… oh that’s right you don’t have that because you have no legs to stand on, no place to land on, and need me to hit any vein at all, you can’t even make a call to get sauced or star crossed so get lost! My eyes are mine not thine, and I am no longer resigned to die, because I like life. I am no longer addicted to human strife, no I am addicted of stab pain with KNIFE, but I can’t do that so… because that is not real, and I am no longer a prisoner of feel,
I am now becoming more real, no longer need to steal or lie, I can take out your stupid eye or can’t I because you don’t have one. You see through me, which is sad, because I can’t see clearly, is your vision blurry ****? Her’s a fix, get in ditch.
My mind would not shout danger! danger! I am a perpetual stranger, the friend of a sad deranged girl. I don’t care about danger because I am invisible, my sanity is unreal and my will indivisible, it can’t be overpowered because I am ruled by fire, I am the power of sheer desire. I am an addict done using setting enemies alight with the power of ignite with deathly fright.
I eat my enemies whole because I am gifted being with two souls, I am a liar, a thief, a villain and addicted to blood spillin’. You are mine because I tell you this, I aim to kill and never miss, I wouldn’t waste a good shot on anything, so I stop using to kill you with the same poison I have been using, not heroin no, but resentment you see… I realized recently I was addicted to the idea of killing me. I wanted to cease to be anything at all, I wanted to head death’s call, but now I have realized this, and will not fall, it is my sole mission to unplug the phone, you can’t call anyone you are disease forever alone, you can’t use a phone, without my voice, and see the thing is **** I have a choice. I don’t want to die, I want to live, I want to be, I want to kiss.
I am a being fueled by fire born desire, not yours but the eternal I the desire of pyre. I am the being who will take you down, you are now hearing the sound of resounding pound of the time of night when the lights turn on and the addicts you hunt no longer head death’s gong.
I am playing pong with you **** and you will lose, because I no longer live in a world, with no shoes. I am the desire to chose to say no, I am RESENTMENT’S DEATH NOW **** GO!!!!
I think it’s impossible to really understand somebody, what they want, what they believe, and not love them the way they love themselves.
Orson Scott Card, Ender’s Game
I just got out of the shower, and was thinking the entire time about what I have been talking about incessantly on here, the survivor’s guilt why me not them thing.. I think the thing is there are people who don’t want to change, not all of them, some really do and try, and it is hard as ****, and they make a mistake and die, or some really want it and have barriers that cause them to fail that I don’t, some really want it and aren’t willing to whatever… I really want this, and meant it every time I said it this time, truly, deeply and with conviction to finally make good on my endless foxhole prayers, that is the only thing I could come to that makes anything near sense, and it is not to say that no one else who was like me did this and was just unfortunate, I don’t think it was just fortune though, and maybe that is just will saying this.
I am starting to think the ruthlessness of my spirit helped me save my own life in combination with fate, will to survive, desire to change, and belief in something higher than me. I want to do everything I am supposed to do whatever that is, and I am truly deeply sorry, in a way that is beyond words now. I am going to just leave it at that.
In my head since finding out about the origin of the bookshelf is this, I no longer think I deserve to feel sorry for myself, I don’t want to paint myself out to be some sort of victim any more. I am not here because I deserve any of this, I realize that now. I was spared, by luck, hand of universe, whatever it was doesn’t matter… I only have now, and what I do with the hand I was dealt and I think it would only be fair, to play it the best way I can in the way that makes it worth it for those around me that I was spared for whatever reason I was spared, it is not in my power to figure that one out, so I think that I am going to stop trying to, figure out why I lived anyway. I lived that is it…. and being pathetic about it is not helping anyone who was there for me through all of this.
I am learning to take better care of myself because whether I like it or not there are people around me who care, and they don’t seem to want to stop caring, so even if I don’t care about me, they do so I have to so they don’t get hurt, so I am trying to remember to eat, to not cry all the time, and make people happy instead of just being a retching ball of agony.
When I was a kid, I loved the ocean, so much, it is and was, and will always be my favorite place in the entire world. I am thinking about it now, to stop myself from making myself cry. I am so.. I don’t even know how to put what I feel right now. The bookshelf thing killed me. I can’t get over that I was the one spared and so many other people died while doing the same things I did. I don’t know what makes my life different, and why I get this and they get that, I wish we both got this. I wish I could help them. I wish.. I wish I didn’t feel like crying. I am so sorry. I am so sorry I am here and they aren’t. I am so sorry every time someone asked me if I wanted to get high that I didn’t say no. I feel like I am responsible for anyone I miss right now. I am so sorry. I was so stupid.
I know this does no one any good, but I just want to document that I feel this way, that I never wanted to hurt anyone with my addiction that was never my intention, I never thought I was while doing it. I know that is stupid, I was stupid, I was selfish, but I will do whatever I can to make it up the rest of my life, and I hope that is enough to make it worth sparing me.
I hope everyone is doing well. I am fine, I am just learning to feel anything for the first time in my adult life.
I am trying so hard to deal with everything, I have never made it this long without drinking/using in my entire life. I am not saying this because I want to do it now, I don’t… finally. I have to learn to get past everything that kills me, for those around me if nothing else. I think that is the only way I can learn to make sense of any of this, it is insane. I am not sure why I did not die while still using/drinking. I do not think it has anything to do with me deserving any of this.
The only thing I can think, that I am coming to think, is that this made it possible for me, in the only way I can to change, so that I can finally do something worthwhile, because it will be the first thing I do for another human being, genuinely, in my entire life, if nothing else, I just want to do something to make my existence worth the pain it brought into this world, to make it up to the universe for having spared me specifically, because I really really appreciate that, and do not deserve any of it.
I am feeling better, after all the confessing in vomit thrown at the pages of this thing. I am thinking that if nothing else, at least this is helping me attempt something that I never thought I would, the making amends thing always scared me so much, I think it is the reason I just kept drinking or using, but I am realizing that the process I was in was just slow suicide and it was hurting those who happen to grace me with their presence. I am trying to focus on the positive and bring no more negative with my continued presence on this earth, I figure if the universe was kind enough to spare me, I might as well, try as hard as I can to make it worth it for it to have done so.
I am not saying anything about deserving any of this, I don’t deserve anything, but I will take whatever I can get. I am desperate at this point, to do anything I can to not be the same ***. I am so sorry for everything. I wish I could turn back time and undo all the pain that I caused, but I can’t so I am doing the best I can to fix what I can, and not break anything else. I am learning to appreciate what I have and not at all, because I think I deserve it, I don’t deserve any of this, quite the opposite.
Dear Inner Demon,
I hope you have grown up finally, which I would hope would happen after 100 years, but you never know. I am quite the *** now and I can’t imagine changing that much because I am stubborn. I also know myself well enough now that if I did happen to go through some kind of transformation that brought me anything like peace, this would be hilarious to hear, because I love to laugh at me, so no one else can, because I am very insecure and like to beat everyone to it.
I hope you enjoyed many many years with the cat, who sits at my feet, who I just made myself cry a little thinking about growing old. I wish for you peace and kindness and many pleasant years with this kind creature who sits right now beside me, I just made myself cry. Thank you for that. Jerk.
I hope you learned to love yourself, through the process of life, I am trying really hard finally, and I want good things for those around you. I hope I don’t ruin anyone else’s lives. I am sorry if I did, I tried for once, if I failed… at least know I tried, although that is no justification for anything I did. I hope you have found peace and if you haven’t.. I hope this letter helps a little at the very least.
My family is with me, and I am not being chased around by dark forces. Thank you to sobriety and being clean. I at least know now that when I buy a cheeseburger it buys a cheeseburger made of meat that I mourn the loss of the life of the cow. I no longer have to wonder what darkness is behind the gates where my items come from.. I eat food and drink water and live and will one day die. I am okay with that, it does not need to be more complicated than that. I do not need any more than one life. I am going to spend it with people who feel the same. Stealing has always been and will be wrong and I am not going to associate with thieves of time or space anymore.
Good job, good omen for me.
You are an ***.
Love you too.
Amanda has a couple of these, except unlike me, she never married them. One of them is still trying to find her, **** him.
There are people who are in love with causing pain, not capable of being in love with people, but with the act of hurting people itself. That is what Deborah or Diane is, she is a harpee, not literally, but like one, she was in love with watching me be in agony. I was in love with it too. Don’t get me wrong, she was in love with me too, I know this, and that was what drew me to the whole thing. I never loved her, and it drives her crazy. She wanted nothing more than to possess me, and make me possessed by the same force that possesses her, but it can’t touch me anymore, and it never consumed me the way it consumes her.
I first began to hear Misery or resentment speak to me when I was eight years old. I almost died, and was saved by the grace of mercy, however I was very young and very angry. I did not know what it was, but it spoke to me because I wanted it to. It said things that I liked hearing, that I was justified in my anger, that it was good to get it out of my system, that I had every right to feel the way that I did, that everyone would feel the same way if they only knew how different and how hard my specific situation was.
That is what it does, it isolates you, putting you on a pedestal, worshiping you, making you feel special and then in very crucial moments slicing at the parts of you that hurt the most, at your darkest fears. It knows them because you tell it to it, instantly, it makes you want to. It tells you it understands, that you are special and different and complicated, and that anyone if they knew just how hard it was to be very specifically you, would have done exactly as you did the whole time, that you are never wrong and to be worshiped and this feels good, and you fall in love with it, and then it tells you what it wants, and it wants servitude. If you do exactly what it wants it will pet you like a cat forever, you will never be alone again, unless you forsake it, and then it won’t leave you alone either. Slowly, having captivated you, it switches, playing with you, alternating between cutting at the very things it said it loved and telling you it is the only one who loves those things, that no one else understands you like it does, and you are very special to it, and need to remember that because only it knows it, and only it will treat you exactly how you deserve.
I know now that the voice that came to me then, was Deborah or Diane because she doesn’t age, she has always been 35. She will always be 35, I don’t know how. She came to me back then when I was 8 and tried to mold me into who she wanted, and I loved her, oh that and began feeding me poison, and telling me it was our secret, and if I kept it secret, she would to.
She did this to me for years, and it felt so good because she was also my provider, she gave me everything she had to keep me around and I let her stroke my ego because I liked it.
Rei is not my daughter’s mother, Deb or Diane is, but I will not tell Rei this. Diane or Deb is poison and she was trying to kill our child, or enslave her which is the same thing, she was testing certain things on her, and making her do things for people with the same strategy she used on me, except on a 18 year old girl, who was created by Deb’s company in a lab, to always be 18. Terrifying really. More about this later.I am not revealing this to Rei myself, if she finds this out on her so be it.
More about this later, I am freaking myself out and it is late.
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.
My family finds it funny that I am still insanely jumpy from living outside, so randomly they will scream and I will scream back at them in various explicit ways and then feel like an ***. I am actually grateful they are doing it because it keeps forcing me to apologize after acting out irrationally. I think, even though they don’t admit it, that is why they keep doing it. I used to never apologize for anything, and I think they like hearing me say I am sorry, over and over again, which I guess I owe them.
I am so happy about being able to look in the mirror for the first time in my entire life, I used to not look in the mirror because it would cause me to hallucinate and literally trap me in the bathroom for hours unaware of time passing tearing holes in my skin so my face would be destroyed, it didn’t work, I have no scars, haha… damn vanity. The one face scar is from when my friend bashed my head repeatedly into a table, I was on meth, heroin and drank a liter of vodka, so needless to say, I felt nothing. It was pretty fun? I don’t think that is the right word, bad***? I was just laughing at him manically, spitting the blood back in his face, telling him I had hep c, which I have no idea if I have or not, still waiting for the results…
It’s funny because he has hep c. He yells back in my face I gave it to you, and I look him in the eye laughing and spit in his eye. I blacked out after that, and the cops came, tried to raid our basement, and I told them I had fallen down the stairs, and they shouldn’t worry because if they remembered correctly I fell down the stairs all the time and they never showed up before, they have a habit of waiting to long to show up and my friends die while waiting, so I am a little bitter…
I don’t know where I was going with that… oh yeah, I have a scar across my head from it.
That same weak my dog bite one of my fingers in half and i duck tapped it back together and then had it removed later because it got infected shooting heroin.
That’s all I can think of right now…
I am so happy to not have to pretend to be someone else anymore, I used to even change my voice, so it sounded more pleasing to other people, manipulation at its finest? I have a very aggressive sounding voice, and I always hated it. It is very freeing to be able to not have to do that anymore. I hated doing it without even realizing it. It is extreme enough that I can make myself sound like someone else on the phone, so my voice is not recognizable. I used to use it to get out of trouble. I did not realize how much of a liar I was, and how pervasive it was in every aspect of my life. The truth is really as freeing as they say it is.
I feel like I am a kid on summer vacation, but I am really just an addict in retirement from a life of…being an ***.
I think I am starting to learn how to feel again, or for the first time. I didn’t remember what this was like, or technically… I don’t know if I have ever felt this at all. The kid died when I was actively using and I never heard about it because I was too busy getting high to even be worth telling, wow, gut punch. If nothing else… this is more reason than ever that I believe there is something behind this. That something wants all living things to live in greater harmony and experience less pain.
I am listening to my family talk about the kid, I knew him personally, just didn’t know he was a drug addict like me. I didn’t bother to ask, because I was always so wrapped up in my own life to have friends, I had dealers and using buddies, and was a friend to no one. I am going to try to change that from now on. I am done being negative, till I forget and start ranting again.
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.
“I want to put my hand out and touch you. I want to do for you and care for you. I want to be there when you’re sick and when you’re lonesome.” “They seemed to come suddenly upon happiness as if they had surprised a butterfly in the winter woods,””I want to put my hand out and touch you. I want to do for you and care for you. I want to be there when you’re sick and when you’re lonesome.” “They seemed to come suddenly upon happiness as if they had surprised a butterfly in the winter woods,”
Edith Wharton, Ethan Frome
My family is helping me with moving it back here, and I am going to use it to organize my life, I read a lot and there are all these books all over the room that make it look cluttered, and are an annoyance to my family. I am trying to be less selfish, and self-centered. I am realizing that while taking accountability for things is good, I have been going about it in a flawed way, which is similar to not doing it at all. I have not been letting myself move past it, and have been dwelling on everything in my traditional woe is me stupid narcissistic way of looking at the world, done. I am sick of myself, and want to move, so I am doing it now.
There are so many cool books in that room that have been left over from our families leaving them after moving. I have plenty do now, so I think it will be easier than ever to stop whining about how crappy I feel and do things to make me feel better.
WARNING: THIS IS FICTION DO NOT INTERPRET LITERALLY
No, because now it is flying around my house in front of my face. I hate myself.
Okay, I am done, I am feeling better now. I am sorry for upsetting you, Amanda.
I don’t hate my name that much when you say it, Damien.
I hate my name, my face… I am sorry…
I just can’t believe I remembered killing my family……..
You didn’t burn it down either, you just happened to experience something similar and are drawing false comparisons due to paranoid schizophrenia.
I love you Damien.
Please don’t. Hey, Amanda! Please help me, please don’t let us ruin this. I am done with everything please support me in this. Please support me in this, I need you now, more then ever. Please help me, and help yourself. I will support you too.
I will, support you and me I mean… not like that… I am not helping you with money…
I don’t mean… I am so sorry.
I am so sorry, I exist. I am trying to… I admire your brother, Amanda, he is everything I should have been. I am listening to him speak as you write this.
I am too.
I love you, and it will be alright, we will be alright.
I know, you will too.
Thank you, that means the world.
To me too.
You realize we just thanked ourselves in the title right?
Yeah, I don’t care, I just wanted to thank you for the longest I have slept in the morning in a long time. Narcissism as well, but better.
So you really were just trying to take my body from me?
(Symphonic black metal Norwegian band- do not listen to if you can’t handle)
At first yeah?
You don’t care that it’s female?
It’s not female.
Thank you for saying that, but unfortunately it is.
No it’s error presenting female form, or a shot at your pride, so you experience soul death and don’t become me, and a call for me to wake up and talk to you. We are part of the same soul.
It’s all for you Damien.
I didn’t mean to kill them. I didn’t mean for my house to burn down with them inside it, you look so much like her I didn’t care. She was involved in some dark level shit. She was going to give them our daughter. I am glad they are dead. At least she is safe, away from DEBORAH.
I’m sorry I can’t remember what I said.
Please leave me alone.
Please leave me alone.
You don’t want to.
I CAN’T DEAL WITH THIS NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE OR I WILL KILL ****ing DIANE. DEMON WITCH PSYCHOTIC **** DIANE OR DEBORAH MY EX WIFE.
I am finally beginning to know what the word peace even means. I used to not experience the feelings of calm at all. On that note. Peace. Tired.
We each have one and a half. We made a deal to get more soul in exchange for helping people and we used our gift to manipulate people to get high or drunk or whatever we wanted.
Right. I remembered it last night, think about those guys we met named the squanders.
Remember that weird thing they said?
We are the descendants of the kingdom of Saul.
No, I knew this.
Not nice. I am just glad I remembered this, because I think I might be able to do the right thing this time.
So who are you really?
I am you, but more about that later.
Okay. Good night, you deal with this now.
He came to me many times throughout my life, starting at seven years old, he was always the same age, 38. He must have done something at 38 that got to him, and he got stuck there, and paced through life stuck there, inter-dimensional time traveling ghost of Christmas future that he was, he showed me how to be everything that I am. We were thick as thieves and thieves as well. It is a very clever device to get whatever you want, all the devices he taught me, I mean. He is skilled with words, and I admired that, being a writer myself, but he was man, and had the appearance I wish I had myself, but I did not find myself attracted to him in the traditional way.
I want to hide away in the back of a cave At the top of a mountain Where no one can hear me and no one can see me So I don't have to deal with them And they don't have to deal with me
Days N Daze, “Misanthropic Drunken Loner”
I was attracted to him sure, in the way a moth is drawn to flame, and for the longest time, I chased after this, burning my heart with the hot hands of bad men, not knowing I was hunting my own self, seen through the mirror of other dimensional Damien de Soto. He was me and I was in love with myself, and the selfish pursuit of the things that made this an easier admission. I cared nothing for the human beings I robbed, tricked, lied to or manipulated, they were simply devices for spare changes that in their mental sparring with my soul, cut deeply into my ideas that I resembled anything that could be called even close to human at all. I was so in love with him because he was me, and I desired to be him.
So that is who I became.
I am not that thing anymore, do you still like me now?
More than ever. You have discovered with me that true strength is in love.
I have always wanted the peace of joyous people. I am crazy. I am dominated by fear and have been since eight years old when I experienced early onset of paranoid schizophrenia. I became unable at this time to control my actions easily and began drinking and using to deal with this at 13. I would steal alcohol and drugs or buy drugs anytime I could, because I also have hydrocephalus, a birth injury from a failure of the doctor who delivered me, I am lucky to be alive, so I decided to have a hissy fit about it my whole life and use it as an excuse for my addict/alcoholic life style. I am this way because I am an addict and alcoholic first and foremost.
Since I was a child, I could not figure out what enough even meant. I don’t like being told no even by my own self. I am addicted to pain because seizures have dulled my nerves, which were further dulled by self medicating my neurotic mind with substances, which I worshiped like idols, and built my whole life around the pursuit of.
I have nothing now because I chose this, so please, my desire is not for pity, just for people to understand what drives an insane man.
I love humanity while also hating you, which I separate myself from because I am weak, terrified and selfish. I see this now in lucidity. I am so guilty every second, but trying to make my life now, not about me. I am so sorry. I am doing my best to change, my **** that I post, it helps me, it is exaggerated and mostly allegory, but my feelings are real and they are hard for me to deal with so I process them with lies that have feelings inside them.
They think I get up in the middle of the night to experience the hours of the day before they wake up, this is only half true. I do not do this out of a desire to be alone. I just simply enjoy quiet when I can. I have not had much quiet in my life at all, and the second they wake up, against their and my will… I listen to their existence every second I am present, not in a resenting way, actually quietly I sit and marvel at the people who surround me now, because I appreciate so much hearing voices other than my own incessant talking in my own head, or against my will at loud to myself. I am so happy to be around people who are not me, because as much as I sound like I am in love with myself, this is a defense mechanism. I am deeply insecure. I hate everything about me, because I am a cruel, uncaring person. I want to be better, but I have been like this so long, it takes time for me to learn to not be.
I loved getting away from reality so much I devoted my whole life to the worship of the idol toys of a man insane, substances have been my best friend along with my own self in female form. I have existed for so long talking only to me or the other me, on street corners where I am either shouting, crying or laughing in lunacy with lack of regard for those around me. I did this because I was in pain from pain I was unknowingly causing myself. I was drinking/using to forget drinking using to forget what I had to do to get drugs and alcohol to forget, drinking using to forget. I am a horrible human being, no really I am, but I am in the process of trying to turn that around now.
I am a lunatic, with no fear of consequences, it is called run through the store with card, grab everything and then make them chase you out. It is also a good way to get banned from a lot of establishments.
Heh. I make myself laugh. I just woke up to the universe playing a prank on me, there was an episode of one of those SVU kind of shows on about a guy who’s house burns down and there is 10 grand worth of fireworks in it. It was a hilarious way to wake up. Thank you universe. I love this prompt too.
I would go to a Walmart, Target, BJ’s or mall sort of establishment, that way I could grab a bunch of everything, and I would grab a bunch of everything. Expensive food, cheap junk food, random old toys for five year old kids like Gak, notebooks, candy, clothing, camping gear, microwave pizza, Christmas decoration, basically anything I can find that is cool because I have had literally nothing but the clothes on my back for the past 7 years of my low bottom addict life and I appreciate every item I find.
I am amused by everything as well, not just items. I am very grateful to have survived the hell that has been my self chosen allegory of what not do life.
I go on shopping sprees now anytime I have spare cash, and spend my money in local establishments to pay back those in society I wrong, by the way.
Okay, I am done feeling like ****. I am done ******* and moaning. I feel like a jerk. I get that I am supposed to, so I am going to start doing things so I am not just hanging out in this room whining on the internet anymore.
I am still going to do that too though. I don’t care, it helps me.
I didn’t kill anyone today. I just slept most of the time since I was last on here.
I think that’s good.
I don’t know how long I was sleeping. I don’t look at the time stamp on this thing.
I think tomorrow will be better.
Hey, that is mean..
I know, but I thought it would get you to talk to me.
Jerk. Fine, here.
I am fine.. I am fine. I am fine. Everything is just ******* peachy. I can’t even feel things anymore lest I resurrect demon. Everything is my ******* fault. I can’t have a genuine response. I am not allowed to.
Geez. You can, just think of the effect on the other people.
I am. That is all I am thinking about right now, I am just going to not do anything, anymore. I am the… I sound like such..
Yeah, I know.
Thanks, I need that.
Now, you know a little more about what I hear in my head on repeat when I am talking to myself, you know what keeps me up at night. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, I was just not able to stop doing what I was doing easily… I was weak and stupid, and even though I knew what I was doing to others, to myself, and to who and what I was serving, I still refused to surrender. I do not regret doing what I did when I did not know what I was doing. I regret doing it after, due to my own weakness, and lack of resolve to walk away.
I do too, Damien.
I know. I am you.
I think we can fix it by doing the right thing now.
Yes, you have to move on, beating yourself up is what it wants.