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.
I am a being with the power of two, I am two people doing as they do.
I am always one in chains.
Hey, not true anymore.
Is it not so?
It is not so.
Dom, in Latin means master
Free of master, I am a master of disaster, an acid blaster, shooting acid into my own eye, to make myself, own self, I own myself, cry
Cry, baby, why oh why?
Why did I hurt myself so?
Because you are oh, so very bad at saying no.
What are you doing? You sound like a lunatic.
You mean, ‘I know.’
No. I meant, you sound like a lunatic, because you are participating, and I always sound like one, and who cares anyway.
You are silent when I listen, you caw when I do not, I am listening to you my friend, outside my window where you are, though I cannot see you.
Talking to you is better than talking to them, them is a word re-arranged. Them is a word re-arranged.
I did not stain the rug, I did not I swear, I put it down, before the paint was dropped.
I am very careful don’t you see? How could you place the blame on me? I did not stain the rug, and it can be seen in this picture of a rug, that is a different rug, but looks like the rug I did not stain.
Someone with a name I will not mention stained the rug, and it was not me.
Along time ago in a place far away, I cleaned motel rooms and
Om. Sounds like meditation..
I should have cleaned the rooms in a calm manner.
Yeah, maybe then you wouldn’t have lost your job.
I lost my job because I came to work high ever day.
Did that cause you to behave calmly?
Does anyone behave calmly on drugs?
My point exactly.
I am you.
I know them is a word re-arranged, and it is word, that made me realize that it is no longer a good idea for stay up for two weeks at time.
What about them?
Who a word re-arranged?
The people? Which people? Everyone?
I am sorry to the every ones.
There are not multiple every ones.
I thought it sounded cool.
You sound like a tool.
I am a tool.
I mean you are being used, like everyone is being used at times, by the hands of the universe to help other people.
I know, but everyone is used this way.
Tool is loot backwards.
You are such a jerk.
I eat honey, I am sweet, in this act, I am complete. I eat sweetness. I resign. I live in hole. I am not divine. I eat sweetness, cause decay, I am a bee. I sting, and make pain stay.
I cause infection, I can cause death. I make sweet items, and fill request, for sweet honey, wanted by man. I am a creature and have legs to stand.
I am a creature, that dances on flower, I create item, which soul devours. I dance on flowers, that cause joy, but I am also Hell’s toy.
I am looking at the lights, and I swear, that if I think about it, they become brighter. I am not sure why. I am not sure if it is as simple as I am opening my eyes more, and in some paranoid delusion I think I am manipulating light.
I am walking, in a memory, not now, obviously right now I am typing to you, whoever you are.
I am walking, forward, very conscious of it being forward to something, I have no had anything to drink, I mean water in seven days.
I think this is how long it was, not sure, I am begining to suffer the effects of extreme dehydration, falling into a lunacy unlike anything I have ever known, which is unfortunate because it is making it impossible to get water, and it’s funny, no matter how much I make a fool of myself, no one calls an ambulance either, or maybe they do and this was not as long as I thought it was and I am experiencing a false memory where time is relative to my idea of how much I suffered.
A man with a hose in his yard saves me, giving me a gallon jug of water and some food, I asked the universe out loud for this, I am not sure how long it took to answer, like I said, I am not sure how long this whole process took, I think I might of been in a state of madness.
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 am sitting by the water again. I am looking out into the ever expanding nothing, I say ever expanding because the lights of the streetlights are going in and out and in and out next to me. They turn on and off, not on a timer but timed randomly with something. I have noticed that they respond to my movement, they turn on and off as if communicating with something in me, but I do not know what it is. They seem to respond to certain kinds of thought, but it is uneasy to place. I am not sure what it is. There turning on and off varies not by the kind of thought being positive or negative, that does not matter, they respond to recognition and the level to which the thought is thought, to intensity not to the kind of intensity.
I move towards them and it seems to me, like they are dancing with me. They turn on and of and on and off on my skin, and it is almost as if I can feel a warmness, that is not heat related. It is a warmness felt in something else, I feel it in my soul. I do not know what that means.
I just know that when I move the lights turn on and off as I think they are going to. I walk and they follow me, they light my way or shade it.
I do not know how to deal with this, what to do about it.