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: narcissistic personality disorder
I keep thinking about you?
I don’t know, lonely.. I guess… so how are you?
I am alone, but unlike you, I don’t go laying all personal insecurities all over the internet, so people feel sorry for me.
I don’t do it so people feel sorry for me.
I find that hard to believe.
I am not as pathetic as you think I am.
You mean not as pathetic as you make yourself look.
I know, that was a good one.
Yes, it was.
Zingers for swingers.
Without you my life is hell, and though I live to tell, I can tell you I am quite unwell, I only talk to myself, and dream of bottles no longer on my shelf, and dirty pinging needles, and rocks that taste like batteries, it is quite sad, being this mad…
I have realized now I am insane, and that it was not my disdain for you that caused me to want to leave you there crying on my arm chair, playing with your pretty dark hair, you are on my brain, my mind, at the tip of my tongue, because I realize that I do not miss being spun as much as I miss fun.
My heart did beat for you once, and became slightly inflamed, fighting narcissism and posion in my veins.
For now I am alone, and maybe someday will bring myself out of myself, and finally use a phone to call someone other than myself.
I miss you, but I do not, I miss you, with heart in not. I am just living a lie, because I have forgotten what it was like to live with you back then, and as much as I say I am fine and completely okay…
You are lying.
I am never okay..
You are lying.
I am meditating on pain because I am addicted to misery.
I am meditating on pain, because I like to eat my own soul.
I am mad. I think there is something wrong with me.
I burned these flowers for you baby, in real life and on here, because
I am ****ing insane.
I am lack of clarity, brought about by insanity and vanity, I am enchanted by misery, brought to you by ms.re, she was the last one to chose to see my face that does not wish to be alone.
You are not that sad, stop pretending to be.
I am meditating on times when I was.
Misery loves company.
You are trying to keep resentment happy? That is pretty dark.
I love you baby, you make me complete, you so fare, you are so wonderful, and you are so neat. You are so wonder filled, so lovely, with your grace, I am replete. I would build you an altar, but my love is strewn across the street.
I am so sorry, for how it must end, you were such a wonderous, lovely, trend, for my life to take…. so dreadfully sorry, I made such a tragic and unfashionable mistake.
You were so right, my angel, about me, and my life, me, such a dark creature, addicted to night.
I am so sorry, baby, I loved you so much. I am so sorry, that I lost all your trust. I couldn’t do what you asked me, I see through blind eyes, so sorry sweetie, I am a creature of despise.
How dare you enjoy life? I cannot, I am addicted to strife, or to strive, or to striving or to seeming
So so so
That sounded insane.
I know. Isn’t it great.
I actually did think it did, you just gross me out.
I know, because I am your own self-love, or the rabid dog version of it, which is a funny way of saying narcissistic personality disorder.
I am married to myself.
Look at me, as I talk like two different people who are divorced.
Dancing sirens at the ocean.
Make me think of my devotion, to nothing but myself.
Ouch, I burned myself.
That is really ****ing accurate.
That is why people thought I was your ex-boyfriend.
You kind of are.
I don’t really know.
Me neither. I think I would be your ex-husband not boyfriend.
Hahah. The ring of power.
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..
I hate myself, I hate my voice, I sound like a **** when I say anything, condescending **** when I say anything, and can’t do anything normal
Like drink water. I just almost choked on an ice cube… ****.
I drink everything like alcohol still…. doing ****ing shots of water with ice in it. Like it is going to work faster if I drink it in five seconds. What the ****????
I do the same thing with everything, must make everything painful, like just take sips of water when you are thirsty dumb ***
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 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…
Is it wrong to not tell her? I want the answer to this for more than one reason. I am trying to figure out how to handle the whole emotionally honest thing, when it comes to me in particular because I am not good at gray areas. I either go all the way or none of the way, which is why I am not good at being honest. I am very all or nothing. If anyone has any advice on this, this is about than this issue. I don’t know how to be honest, and not be a jerk who says everything I think, I either do one or the other.
How do people who are normal handle this? I don’t even know the right way to ask this question.
I am also kind of asking myself this.. feel free to help me if you want…
If not I am okay, don’t worry, I am very good at talking to myself.. Wow… rampant insecurity….
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.
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 am able to bring myself to eat without having to go through the chaos spiral of self-loathing that has powered my relationship with food. I have always, up until now I mean preferred the taste of bitter or flavorless mind-numbing soul staining poison. I think this is because of how much I used to hate myself. I am so glad, to realize how much of cycle of horror this whole thing. I really had no idea that I was drinking/using to forget what I did to drink and use to forget.
I don’t think my wife feels the same about herself, because she was just a silent passenger, and doing what she had to in order to stay well. I was the one behind all the ****. I know this now. I didn’t know it before, I remember telling her I would stop if she did, thinking she wouldn’t notice my absence or my perpetual love of long sleeves.
It sort of feels like this is the first time I have ever been a human being in my entire chaotic life, and I know I have said it before, but a lot of that comes from the interaction on here. I have never been treated so kindly in my entire life by strangers. I hate to say that my family had always been there, but they had, me and Amanda are the same person, just in two separate universes for the moment, getting closer to being the same one though, every day.
Which is strange, given all I have revealed to you about what I think about. It is strange to me too as well. I think I may be getting better? I don’t know really, at least I starting to make a step in the right direction. I think it is good I taught my daughter something in all this, I am not sure exactly what. Maybe, it was my way of showing her I have some level of psychotic self-control. Honestly, a lot of it was that I for the first time wanted her to not be afraid of me. I don’t know if this is the first time I thought that actually.
I think it might be the first time I thought of anyone, but myself at all, but who knows…. I have no idea what I say on this thing.
I am just documenting feeling really. There is nothing behind it other than a desire to be less ******* psychotic so my family is not afraid of me?
I think I am making steps in the right direction at least, they are no longer afraid of me going places by myself, which is amazing because I like walking in early morning alone, and have always had a “”silent passenger” with me watching me, until recently.
I like being able to watch people, who don’t know me, because normal human behavior is rather mysterious to me, and I am trying to learn about us as a species from the outside of viewing of my fellow, I don’t know fellows?
So I officially didn’t kill the **** after being given permission to. I thought about it. I really did, actually, not that I need to tell you that.. I wrote about it on here, so obviously I thought about it. I didn’t kill him for a strange reason. I like the way he avoids eye contact with me now. It is fun. I think I might be able to make the little **** walk into a car just by looking at him. Then I didn’t officially kill the poor *******. Or, I get to torment a **** the rest of my life, in the name of defending my daughter, I am hoping for the latter, because it sounds fun.
I am just going to act like I don’t know the guy now and stand behind him awkwardly sometimes to make him look like the writhing worm he is, so no more women will be messed with the way he messed with my daughter.
I figure if he doesn’t kill himself, I have fun bored game to play the rest of my life.
This is psychotic I know, but progress… maybe.
At least I don’t have to clean blood out from under my finger nails for hours. I can smell that right now. That is the only time it grosses me out.
And I see myself only different, the face turns when I don’t turn and the eyes are different, I focus on the black pupils of her eyes and I am swimming in a sea of black tar, but not because it feels like water, it is refreshing and feels to me like kissing,
I hit my nose of glass which is strange because I am now inside the mirror partially, but my nose is not, somehow it hits the glass, and I feel a calling back to life, a psycho shouting, that comes in the Charlie Brown WAH WAH WAH WAH.. I check my nose for glass, for blood, but I can’t tell the difference between the nose, my nose? and the cold, hot, cold water that encircles me and I am okay, with it riding up my limbs, caressing me with warmness.
Bang bang, he shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down
Nancy Sinatra-Bang Bang, My Baby Shot me Down
I am kissing someone who tastes like me, her mouth tastes wrong like it should not be hers because it is mine? How do you touch tongues with a reflection, her tongue dances with mine, and I feel like I am going to throw up but in the kind of way that you feel when you are going on a roller coaster and you kind of like it but you want to throw up because you are afraid you are going to fall off.
I touch her hand and realize I am holding my own.
I look in the mirror is that my hand covered in shattered glass? Or am I pulling a screaming woman from a burning building? I don’t know, she kisses my hand and I cry, I am so confused, I hate me so much and you remind me of me and I love you for loving me but I am also slightly disgusted? Please stop.
She stops, and I start crying, what just happened.
She flashes in and out like a ghost.
I put my hand through her hand, it feels like I am burning alive, with electricity, I think I am losing my mind. I am losing my…
Who are you strange creature?
I am you, from a parallel dimension, we are supposed to save each other.
I heave and I don’t remember what happens next.
I am not a miss spelling, not there either, baby
I am lame, but maybe I am trying to tell you something
I am a sham, a sea gull named life’s last stand, inserted into dying human being.
Listen to me…
Pressing the stressing dressing of the never resting meth head who head is dressed with never rest through pained dressed dance with thoughts of life spent on death
Cash spent on passing glass that reflects life lost or tossed in trash through battery acid soaked lash that hurts so bad it stings my soul or reeking creaking pain hole full of nothing but sin, so I look to Him because I am bad as bad as can be, I am blind man and woman, so arrogant there are two of me. I am in love with self so much I write letters of love to me. You have seen me do it. Do you think that is fun, being that meth spun you spend your life staring into the eyes of yourself hell bent on being anything other than me and feed
feed me drugs, I am a dirty rug,
I am walk on me, baby, I am crazy and will flip out if you do the wrong thing
I am to be feared because I reek of sin, and the only way out is
Trust in Him.
God is my only answer that is a cure to my death ridden soul.
I made friends with foxes because we used to pray the same way in the same holes, not the same way, I am a human being who cannot speak animal neigh
I am a lunatic who stares at the moon and dreams of clear streams that are for swimming not fire and speed. I am the lack of blood on arms that were charmed enough to live not charmed but gifted by the lifting of chosen curse or eating dirt, because child heart I am also arrogant as Hell. I aim to tell you things because I like to talk because I am a narcissist who made a choice that if I am addicted to my own voice, why not at least say something good?
Owl City-“Shooting Star”
Fill the darkest night with a brilliant light
'Cause it's time for you to shine
Brighter than a shooting star
So shine no matter where you are tonight
Instead lies for crying eyes who hand me DRUGS, I am stronger than street thugs, but weaker too, a lot of them sell drugs to feed families, I shot heroin to commit calamities, acting out of complete insanity, I am vanity on a death terror ride, through illusion cycling through past for you, so you can see what I say and not go where I went and do what I did, because I don’t kid, I am kid who got saved by my creator, I am a pained footed waiter, not a metaphor an admission. I am just one suffering addiction speaking divine inspired truth that is inspired by God.He saved me.
I do not want to preach or teach, just simply save lives, by screaming the whole jails institutions death thing is real
and I feel un-punctuated and so elated by getting to tell you this.
Do not take death’s kiss people love you, please stay, if you listen to any of my psycho ego babble, I am playing scrabble with apples with words for you. I want you to know wherever you go, whatever you do, just say no to drugs, I want much more for you, because I love you and don’t even know you. Imagine how those who know you feel.
Love yourself. We recover.
It is the best thing in the entire world. I love it so much, that and caffeine, it is saving my pathetic drug addict @#$. I love the act of consuming anything, and feel less bad about consuming this, than even food which makes no sense, but I have mental problems.
I think the food thing started when I was a kid and people started telling me to be careful what I eat, because certain food is bad for you so I became obsessed with controlling it, like I do with everything. I am talking about this because I want the reader to know I and my writer jest about my constant quest to have power over food, but give me a break, I am powerless over alcohol can’t I dominate one thing I am obsessed with? I can crush food with my hands, and is made or culled by human beings and I killed those things in a fictional world of simulated reality of a narrator who is best at running away.
I like how nicotine looks as a word
o tiny speck, of food like substance and consume consume because consequence, I see none, less cancer, more fun.
No. I am busy.
No you’re not going to be busy, you don’t even do anything.
You don’t do anything.
Yes, I do and you know it.
You sit on the computer all day and talk to me.
I sit on the computer all day and talk to you and help you with this blog, and I have a kid, and I have a wife…
Blah blah blah I am so important. You should come with me because it will be fun.
No it won’t, it’s going to suck and you just want it to suck for me too, and that’s not fair.
It’s not fair that you have to help me when I helped you a lot recently.
I have helped you too.
They might give me….
Okay screw you, I am going, but it’s your fault if I get addicted…
They aren’t going to give them to me, I was just kidding but now you have to go because you said you could if I gave you drugs, jerk.
Fine, so if you get drugs can I have some?
If they give me drugs I am going to refuse them, jerk.
You’re welcome. Jerk.
I know you do, I gave it to you.
It mine to begin with.
That’s not nice. It was ours to begin with, and you just wanted to use me as a scapegoat for everything and as an enforcer to get free *(%$ from people.
Oops? That’s all I get is oops? Screw you.
Yes. I deserve more than an oops…
No don’t do that… I really do deserve more than an oops.
I just tricked you into learning about forgiving yourself.
What happens when you don’t know how to spell MRSA because it looks like Mrs. Amanda and so you spell it mersa. It spells out mercantile. Or what I just told my sponsor about why I won’t be at the meeting today.
I have already told her about my blog and I think she is going to think I am psychotic. Now every time the word I is typed it makes me self-conscious.
That is typed like that because I don’t know how to spell that word and I don’t like spelling things wrong because if I make a mistake you will think I am stupid which is a lie because what I really mean to say it will invalidate my own personal belief that I am smarter than everyone and I am working on it..
I want to take a prescription for hypocondria, meaning a cure for it so I looked it up thinking foolishly that there might be a prescription drug for it because I am a drug addict who is lazy and wants easy solutions. Instead of coming across a drug for it I came across the definition which was a kick in the face.
def.-abnormal anxiety about one’s health, especially with an unwarranted fear that one has a serious disease, (dictionary.com).
How can there be a prescription for something if not even a disease?
There can’t be unless you count, go to a meeting at 12.
Addiction is a series disease. The definition makes no sense then.
You think your leg is going to fall off because you used drugs and got staff. That is what you wanted the prescription for. If you think your leg is going to really fall off go to the hospital.
My insurance is not in effect yet.
So you want a sedative to make it so you don’t have to worry until someone can tell you your leg is fine? Our leg is fine.
It’s my leg right now.
The same way you did when you drank beer, but better because it will look like violent outbursts of repressed rage are only because you are drunk and you can spend the whole day pranking unsuspecting people because they will be too drunk to notice.
That doesn’t sound very patriotic.
Yes, it is. Because it is fun. Fun is always patriotic.
Drinking is not patriotic.
That’s because drinking is not fun.
Not everything patriotic is fun.
I think you are thinking of jingoism not patriotism.
Oh, yeah right.
How about jenga-ism.
That’s not even a thing.
Yes, it is. It’s how you punish people for winning at jenga in the psych ward while having shaky hands because of with-drawl from drugs and alcohol.
Sounds like you just being an asshole and knocking over jenga games, because you ^&*& at Jenga.
Jenga is a stupid game anyway.
What did it ever do to you?
I shouldn’t have to share 100 truths about myself, while the other people in the psych ward only share 5 just because my withdrawal is worse, because I did more drugs.
Doesn’t that help you have less reason to do drugs?
Because it makes you talk about it, which is probably the point because you did more drugs, so you need to share more truths.
Do you know how dangerous it is to light off fireworks while playing with sparklers while poking a bull in the eye that you painted pink after dosing it with sedative and draping flowers over the horns with a snake on your hand?
Neither do I.
But, I wonder what it would be like to do that sometimes.
It sounds like a good way to kill yourself.
It does doesn’t it?
Excellent newspaper headline because it would be really long and the editor would not know what to do.
They would just be like this is so oddly specific who would do this?
You would do that.
No I wouldn’t. Because I haven’t, and if I did I wouldn’t tell anyone about it before I did it.
You would tell them after you did it?
So you already did it?
So now you can’t do it.
Yeah, I was telling on myself. I was thinking about doing it today.
Do you have all the things you need to do it.
None of them, that’s why I put it on here instead.
If you didn’t put it on here you would have to do it?
What if you couldn’t find the things.
That’s why it is on here.
It was for doing drugs not for looking at myself.
That’s better or worse?
I think it would be better if it was for drugs, than for looking at myself.
Because I don’t like how it looks if I say it is for looking at myself, and I don’t care how it looks if it is for drugs because I don’t do them anymore and then the whole post makes it sound like I am doing awesome and not thinking about how I broke something by sitting on it.
But, it’s funny, which is why I said it.
Everything you say is funny.
Murdering women is funny?
Sit on it.
Now you can’t your mirror to see clearly.
I never did. I used it to do drugs, that blurred my vision.
And to see if there were people behind you.
That was you.
You don’t have two reflections.
Yes, I do.
It was on purpose, because I was supposed to stop being so self involved which is hilarious because I just realized that would mean it would mean the world revolved around me so much the internet shut down.
I feel sometimes like I was playing monopoly most of my life, and winning by robbing the community chest. Oh, subtle innuendo… I miss Rei right now sorry…. she’s sleeping and my daughter went for walk, so I am doing this so I don’t commit some horrible atrocity and ruin my life. Yay, busy hands.
Talk about something else, that does not fuel ego. Be humble, fool.
I am trying to figure out how to help Amanda develop sympathy for others, because obviously a psycho is the best person to do this…
Well, maybe because I am her, so I would be… no more ego……
I want a tuna sandwich.
Haha! I finally got this idiot program to work!
Stab the burger. Dispel rage, no one has to die today. Would have worked better if it didn’t take an hour and a half to do that..
I think…. I am not good at time.
Backstory of the burger, I was actually looking for a picture of a tuna sandwich because again OCD… and the computer hands me a burger with a knife in it instead. I am afraid of AI. This was one of the few pictures without beer in it, so I smacked it down with pink femininity, so it can’t hurt me. Oh, wow, even I was offended by that one.
On that note.
I am helping someone, I don’t them, but they know me, because they made me up, and I think they are finally starting to like me, because now my life doesn’t suck. That’s pretty cool. I like them too, I guess. I don’t really know them. Thank you, Amanda whoever you are. Please help me find Rei?
Well, that’s kind of awesome. I feel better and I can feel that they feel better. I think my daughter is still sleeping. I wonder if she thinks I am crazy because I don’t sleep that much.
Thanks. Nice to know.
I like this, the whole powerlessness thing is cool, but I don’t think this is how it works.
I don’t know, I only have 58? 58, I think days.
So do I. I know, I am why.
Okay. Thanks, jerk.
You are why, for me. Thank you.
I get tiny pieces… still can’t spell that word right… even though I know that whole I before e thing… whenever I write on here, I feel like everyone can see me the whole time, failing miserably at everything, but enough of my hissy fit.
I most of the time know am coming to be acquainted with what I think peace might feel like. I don’t know what it truly means to be at peace because most of my mind, is still a ranting chaotic mess of stream of can’t spell that word either.. I need to be less moronic.
I am starting to really like Diane, which scares me, terribly because I like her in a different non-obsessive way, that I have never felt before, and I think that might be because I am actually starting to like myself, a little. I don’t know though, the whole thing scares me.
I don’t want my claws ripped out.
I am on my knees for you
Begging, baby, please tell me what to do.
What do you need from me? I only desire to be
Everything you need, with every step I take, planned with precision
To do what you say. I desire only for you not to go away, for then where
Would that leave me? How would I get what I need? We are a team, inhaling
Shared steam, and dreams of the same GODDAMN DREAM!
No kill or damn it I am leaving, it is me who you have been deceiving…
This is all about you…. everything you do.. I am present in nothing….
BITCH! SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH OR I WILL RIP OUT ALL YOUR TEETH!!
I am misery’s wreath. I am a decoration of pain, I live in utter disdain, but I have an addicted brain, that thrives on the drugs, that with his hand he shoves in mine. I am not a murderous type, I am simply addicted to strive. I am a consumer of poison and poised for any fight. I need what you gives me you see, and if you
MAKE ME SET IT AGAIN I’LL SHOOT OUT YOUR KNEES!
Alex, my love,
And undress you
I am to obsessed to admit
I am quite unfit
Because your existence
I think about you with frequency and increasingly, my baby,
I desire to cut you apart and devour you, after injecting with just the right amount of Ketamine. Be comfortable, honey, and become mine.