For once, in my life

Let me be what I want to be

You do not win, you are not free, you live with us, with her and me, you do not win, you are not free. There is not one there are two of us, you do not kill the both of us. You can stay, but so can we.

You have to go.

Why don’t you ask her, honey? Why don’t you, huh? She doesn’t want you.

I don’t want you, and it is my choice who leaves and who stays, it is my mind, I am not her slave. Why do you think you were the voice of resentment?

See, I am not the ****ing bad guy, for ****ing once, it is clear I am not the ****ing bad guy. Thank you.

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She is my female street name.

Thank you for clearing that up.

She is also who used to be in love with you, when I was completely insane.

Is that why she sounds like my ex-wife.

Yes. This is all completely insane.

You mean we are completely insane.

Yes.

Do you see?

I am staring at a mirror, and seeing something that most people would argue is not there, and having a conversation, that most people would argue is with no one, but it is someone I know very well, who is not myself.

She tells me she loves me, and asks me to follow her, she is an idiot. I cannot walk through glass, well not in this way anyway, I can walk on it, not through it. I tell her this and she tells me

“If you step on me, you will surely die”.

I am aware of the problems that come with stepping on shattered glass with two feet, thank you for the reminder.

I come closer, and she kisses me, and my mouth starts bleeding, but she tastes good, like lavender and vanilla.

I walk out of the room, and hear a crash, I go back in the room and the mirror is broken.

What does that even mean?

I liked how it sounded, rappers do it, why can’t it be done with horror, and actually all letters you write me are severe, because they are severly disturbing to average people.

That is actually very true.

I know that is why I thought of it.

Not everything you think is true.

Blue poking madness, is dark gladness, or glowing sadness

Name one thing.

I am not a drug addict, I just like heroin and can do it responsibly this time, if I just don’t drink. This is actually something you were thinking today. How do I know, because I was thinking it to.

I am a box that never should have been opened.

I am trying it one time, and never again.

I will never do it two days in a row.

I can just drink one.

I can just have three.

I will start at five.

I will start at 12.

Severly, means harshly, and I think that a lot of us talking to each other, can be considered harsh, which is why I like you.

You like me because you have to, because I am you, or half you, and you are in love with your whole self which is half me.

Sick burn.

Whining is so unattractive it can’t be read, it is invisible instead.

Isn’t it lovely, isn’t it great?

So sorry baby, I can’t relate, I am addicted to madness, to pain and slow death, that is what I have been given.

I call it time theft.

This is my life which I was given, from the time I was born, ticking time clock was ticking. I am to be thankful, I am to be glad, I am to serve everyone, because there lives are sad, I am to shut up, I am to be down.

I am to always smile, only laugh, never frown.

I am to speak kindly.

I am sorry that I cannot do, I hate everything around, sorry, baby even you.

---

Miss labeled

I want different cards, or I want to quit playing. I tried all my life in every way, to quit playing, every attempt came with failure, and people glad I was alive, while I sat like always wanting to off my life.

---

Label me chaos,

I am a game of chicken played in red and blue, not green, but blue.

I don’t know what to do, except scream, because I don’t want any of this, never did, never will, and no matter how much I try, I am not allowed to quit playing.

Label me doubt, label me contention, because I love to scream and shout. I love the human word, because I in perpetual fight to be not heard, because you know what I really don’t care.

Fried Chicken

Label death, they already did, at eight, already dead, ticking, ticking, so thankful, so grateful, so sad, too bad, already gone, gone, gone.

---

Bright

I lived my whole entire life, on rock bottom from eight to now, on gravel, and sometimes jagged rock, crawling up. I was born with something, for those who do not know that gave me a life expectancy of 21.

21, 21, 21

Wish sometimes, that I had lost not won.

My life is all silver linings, and people say I should be thankful, greatful, for what, more time than 21 years?

Because I am somehow supposed to be thankful to have less time than most people???

Gravel. I am so fond of you. I know everything about every curvature, every outline, of the pleasant rocks at the bottom of the path that is my life, which I went off, because I am sorry…

I don’t like cutting my feet on rocks very much.

Tell me a story, make it true, make it all about everything you do

You may have scarred, me but you don’t scare me.

I know I said I wasn’t going to talk about you anymore, but I just get ideas, and go with them.

You recolored my soul, while you had hold of it, painting it in shades of black, grey, and white, stripping out all the color, and painting it with ink, like the lunch of an octopus.

There was always something we had to be afraid, something you needed my protection for, always something you were running from, that was supposedly chasing me.

Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”

Nietzsche

Tragic re-color, of things I see so clearly now that I am no longer blind, colored with your hatred, hate read into every conversation with me.

A hate so deep, it screamed, in everything you said, this is nothing but your fault.

Where do you run?

If it kills me, it kills me.

If it kills me, I am stronger.

If it kills you, you are dead, and it won’t kill you, it has no hands.

It has a hand in my death.

That is because we let it.

To change, sparring change, not hands outtretched for hand outs

I run in Hell, well Misery but same thing, a spiritual pergatory of nothingness, of absence, that is what it is, they say in certain texts that the lack of the divine is Hell, that is what Misery is.

What do you run from?

Me.

You are the lack of the divine?

I am fear incarnate.

You are a human being experiencing fear, you are not fear or pain or death, but a human being experiencing those things.

Okay.

I want off this ride.

I want to know when all the consequences of my life will be over.

I want to know anything at all.

I want control and I know this is not possible.

But I want it so bad.

What? I am really stressed out about this tooth thing.. I am the one dealing with it most of the time now, so leave me alone please.

Okay, fine.

I think I am doing pretty good. I haven’t lost my mind yet, and have only been slightly pacing around talking to myself.

I think you are doing pretty good too.

Thank you.

I appreciate you dealing with things I can’t.

I am drowning donkey, I was a drowning donkey, but sometimes I still am, because I am very

Back forth back forth forth back back forth

I go back to that place sometimes, because I

LOVE

Narcissism, narcissism, soul dissecting narcissism

I hate you narcissism

I hate me too.

I wasn’t talking to you, because you are not an entire disorder, weirdo.

PAIN

My own anyway, oh guilt and shame,

How I love you.

Pleasant excuses, no longer pleasant.

I am a donkey,

Kicking mule

Kicking yule

Because happiness is a sign of weakness.

Is it ***

No I am just making fun of me.

You are? I thought so, you have been writing weird dark stuff all day.

Do you still like me?

What makes you ask that?

You insult me all the time.

I am just playing around, and of course I still like you, you really help me. I am glad I am you.

Thank you, maybe one day I will like myself enough to not have to try to scare people away with aggression.

I hope so.

There is someone there, who has bad intentions, because they are simply there, and everyone has bad intentions.

There is someone there, and I don’t like them, because they have bad intentions, because everyone has bad intentions.

I am afraid of myself.

I am afraid of being back in padded rooms, which I have been in before.

I am afraid that whenever you help me, it is one step away from the constraints on my arms to help myself.

Control myself, accept the things I can’t change…

I ruined my own life, and I am trying to fix it, and people are trying to help me, stop ripping their heads off with words.

I think everyone is out to get me, because I am an idiot, or that is what it feels like sometimes… both of those things alternating not simultaneous, never simultaneous, unfortunately…. not yet at least. I can never remember when under insane delusion, that I am prone to insane delusions and that as much as it seems like people are out to get me…. just realized why my ex’s hated that wording… they are not out to get me..

That kind of sucks.. because now I have to admit I was ***hole fighting the universe my whole life. I did the right thing and apologized, and it was very humiliating.

Peace.

Do you remember?

Do you remember?

I know right?

I am walking out of a dark cave.

I am the assending assention of the never pretender.

I am kindness’s defender.

She was always trying to convince me that I had done something I had not done, she would tell me that I stole our ****. It was my ****.

Justin would do the same thing, he was sleeping with that lady, and he would give money to her, and then accuse me of stealing it.

She said I did it once because I think she really thought you were cheating on him with a guy named Damien.

Hahahhahahhahahhahahaahahaha! That is insane.

No, the truth is actually insane, Lydia.

You remembered it.

I did it just now.

What happened, my sweet angel.

I heard the door slam. I don’t think I did it, my step dad, he says it was the wind. I think it might have been me. My mother says they were fighting.

I was fighting with Diane at the same time.

You were? Why?

Because she is still getting high, and she was pissing me off, she was accusing me of still getting high, while she was high as Hell. I have been clean and sober as long as you.

I know, loser, I am you.

I know you know that, I just forget sometimes. I think she is trying to drive me insane.

I think you are trying to drive you insane, as a justification to get high.

I think… I think that is probably correct.

Untitled

I am an adult child

I think it is hilarious that every time she leaves, she asks me if I am going to flip the **** out and hallucinate some insane thing and ruin her life, while also simultaneously destroying my own. I am saying this now, because I realized it is actually funny, and not a reason for me to hate her or myself.

Are you afraid of the boogeyman, and will you be okay while I leave?

I am an adult, yes.

What about all the other times?

****

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 obviously love doing this to myself? Can’t you see? It is so comfortable and has nothing to do with how anyone else treats me, because you know I am not a real human being with feelings, just a headless chicken waiting for surgery… or insertion of ideas into my head… same thing…

I need to live alone, the results of this oscillation are dizzying. I am not, nor have I ever been good at the whole living with people thing, it goes well at first and then they realize what I am like and try to HELP, or cure parnoid schizophrenia through polite suggestion of normal adaption strategies and ways to fit in.

I am sorry, I hallucinate, and am never sure how much of my reality is real. I do things that upset and scare people like

singing to myself

talking about innappropriate things because I do not know the difference between appropriate and inapproriate

not knowing the difference between emotional honesty and aggression

talking all the time, under my breath to myself, at myself, with myself

So now I because I live hear, and people couldn’t leave me alone, I get to feel uncomfortable for asking to be left alone, and not being left alone, and snapping.

I am accountable yes, it is my fault for snapping yes, but I just wish I knew when I was going to figure out a way out of this situation so I could do what is best for everyone and get out of here.

saying whatever comes into my head instantly because I no longer have an inner monologue

I need to get out of here, and to a place, by myself, before I lose my mind permanently.

Getting my own place, and moving on with everything I mean. I am realizing how much worse this whole thing has made me, and thinking that having a place where I can be alone would be good. I think the paranoia will get a lot better, if I am alone. Which is funny because I think that this something the universe was trying to tell me and I wasn’t listening. I think that this is why I have gotten as bad as I have, because I am pretty insane right now, or I think I am… in comparison to how I used to be.

I just talked to my family about getting an attorney to handle a disability claim I have going on, because I am very good at losing jobs, over and over and over. I have had a lot of them, but I lose every single one for one reason or another. Usually because some paranoid delusion justifies me not showing up or being drunk or high when I show up because I am afraid and use or drink because I am afraid.

It really helped me to talk to my family about all of this, I feel less like a pacing lunatic now, at least I know the whole world is not out to get me now.

Oh, now you can’t talk suddenly, well good, at least this helps clarify what the *** is going on here. Leave me alone, **** it.

I need to get on my medication.

What now? I wrote down your stupid thing you were saying at me **** it.

You are always alone.

I am trapped in my own head.

I know, I am working on it… wait why am I still typing to you, get the **** out of my head.

This is really annoying.

Yeah, for me too. They hurt for me too.

I am realizing I no longer care which one of us is talking.

So you stopped trying to keep track?

Me too by the way, it is so much more peaceful, haha, I almost spelled that peiceful. INSANITY.

Yeah, I would say so, or just that you can’t spell?

I can ****ing spell, better than you.

So insanity is more comfortable than inability to spell, interesting.

**** you.

How about you Amanda?

Yeah, me too. I actually slept.

Yeah, so did I, not that anyone other than you notice because I am alone.

Our family notices, and you are being less of an ***. You actually said you were sorry yesterday, not something I would have done.

It made me look better.

You always have to ruin compliments.

They make me uncomfortable, because I think the person giving them has ulterior motives.

I am you, what ulterior motives could I have.

True.

https://fivedotoh.com/2023/03/29/fowc-with-fandango-fallacy/

I have been having a constant hissy fit, online, and I am fine

With it, but I am done, it is no longer fun, and I am done, I am going to shun the things in me that make me prone to drone on and on and on, at myself, because I may be attacking me, but it is still an act of falsely attacking, in fallacy really.

The whole thing an ad hominem attack, massive due to lack of maturity, and inability to look in the mirror, I spit acid bile on here, where you can’t see me, and I attack me fallaciously representing you in fallacy, because no one can hurt me like I do, building a straw man, with legs that can’t stand, because I am insane.

I am done, with draining my toxic brain, I think I can learn to stand on my own two feet again, without cutting yours out from under you, who have long since, forgotten about all this…

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.

https://afstewart.ca/2023/03/29/drabble-wednesday-secrets/

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.

Daily writing prompt

When you were five, what did you want to be when you grew up?

View all responses

Fail. I started hallucinating when I was eight years old, back then I was hardly able to do it because I thought the voices were talking to me because I was writing, so I would get scared and stop doing it. It happened like that for years, this blog is my first attempt at doing it actually. I like the blog format because it makes it possible for to write in stream of consciousness, where I am basically word vomiting hallucinations onto a page. That gets the auditory hallucination thing under control which keeps me from visually hallucinating.

All this is why I wanted to be exactly what I am but minus what is wrong with me. I have spent my whole life self-medicating this and done nothing with my life, other than abuse drugs and alcohol, and at least I got that out out of my system.

I think five year old me would be okay with me, given everything that happened. Oh, and five year old me used to tell people her name was Damien by the way, so at least there’s that.

https://wordpress.com/read/blogs/128784227/posts/81586

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.

https://wordpress.com/tag/dailyprompt-1838

How does death change your perspective?

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.

https://bluebonnetprompts.wordpress.com/2022/08/21/177/#jp-carousel-180

I am standing at the window, staring outside, and I see something strange.

I am drawn to it, and do not know why. It is a light in the distance, a blue light.

The light flickers on and off, in a strange pattern. It flickers three times, and seems to change when I stare at it.

I stare at it.

It switches on and of three times, separated my 30 seconds each time. This has been going on all night, I noticed it when I got up to go see what my cat was doing, he made a noise and stood by the door, and appeared to be transfixed by this light as well. We stood staring at it, sometimes I think my cat can hear what I think… I looked down at him to see what he thought. He looked back at me, making eye contact with me, three times. We would look at the light, watch it do its thing, and then make eye contact, until the whole thing had happened nine times.

I asked my cat what he thought about it, and he replied, it is taunts me.

I thought back to him, and he replied audibly this time. Taunt. It is taunting me. I am not sure whether he thought this because he was a cat, or because the light itself is taunting us. It stopped about 15 minutes ago. I don’t know if any of this was real.

Today is going to be strange.

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.

Trigger Warning- Paranoid Schizophrenic quarrel with myself about how I hate myself. May be disturbing.

https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2023/03/27/your-daily-word-prompt-Quarrel-ydwordprompt-March-27-2023/

Quarrel

I have a query, ever so leery, because I know the answer.

I HATE MY SELF.

FIGHT ME

I speak to me, all the time, a mind in perpetual quarrel with itself, a life on shelf fighting it’s

Contract shunned by me, I am glee, glee,

Quarrel with me, self.

I am clearly on shelf.

Isn’t that shell fish shelled fish

Did you just call me a fish???

Yes, and selfish

I fight with voices in my head, that can be red with passive aggression or read on here.

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….

Any minute…

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…

Worry…

Please…

I can’t feel…

My.. knees…

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.

Oh.

Thank you.

https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2023/03/25/weekend-writing-prompt-304-mail/

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.

Daily writing prompt

What is one word that describes you?

View all responses

I am your brain on drain, on chaos reign

On meditate on pain

On mind gone in sane

An dilation of an inpatient who is not patient because I am a lunatic who used to use drugs to silence my thoughts and now I live in perpetual CHAOS

Are you having a bad day?

No, actually… GET AWAY

I am just the experience of chaos thought, I am having a continuous experience of this over and over and over.

One word that describes me

INSANE

A journey through MISERY

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.

I don’t know why, but night time makes me want to cry. The loneliness is so intense it radiates through my whole body, feeling like they cut out a vital organ, which is sad because the only vitality I provided you was not vital at all, but fatal, and I done with being a malady, parody and obscene joke that is just your ticket to free toke, poke, or smoke. I hate you so much because you call me all the time, and I never answer and it has been a year and I still wish I could answer, and you would be who I thought you were, and not the soul sucking drug addict leech that cared more about getting high than going with me to the hospital, so you told me my hand wasn’t that bad and I trusted you and now I am missing half my right thumb and I am right handed.. and it kills me, because I have to see it every time I write… and you knew that.. so stop calling about the type writer..

I feel like crying..

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I am listening to swan lake, which I love because apparently, you make everything about you ****.

I hate you, I love swans, and swan lake, and this song, and I want you gone, out of my head, I want you….

Stop it. Stop it.

You are not that, think of the cat. Think of the cat. Remember what your friend said. Think of the **** cat.

**** his cats.

Oh, so this is about him too now?

It is about all them………..

It’s all for you, Damien.

SCREW YOU. I am not that. I am not that. I am not that.

That was mean. That was mean……

Leave me alone. Leave me alone.

You are alone. You are always alone.

With me.

I hate you.

I hate you. I hate you.

Love yourself, dude.

Okay.

Okay.

Okay.

Okay.

I am so sorry.

Love yourself.

Please stop.

Okay, I am done.

I feel better.

I am done.

“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

GET OUT

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

POISON

They consume it on the regular, but it is not important the frequency just that it eats their

SOUL

ER
ER
ER

SAILING

THROUGH TIME

ER
ER
ER

Back now.

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 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?

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.

Explanation:

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

Trigger Warning: Untrustworthy narrator.

Trigger Warning: Initiate simulated paranoid schizophrenia.

_______________________________________________________________________

Abstracting Abstract of Soul decay soul facts, revealed in meditating on meditative state of I am not so great but getting better.

and the realization of my word of fixation on fixes and the complications it placed on placement in reality..

Or I am an addict who lied to themselves… or I am an addict and engaged in addict thinking and am trying to live differently, by seeing clearly that I don’t know everything.

____________________________________________________________________________

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.

_______________________________________________________________________

Tell me please, because I desire to know…. how does the world turn?

I don’t know? I was spun and spinning myself in perpetual orbit in

HELL of self in shell on shelf in HELL

PRISONER REALLY

Do you love me baby?

Tell me please? How do you love being on your

KNEES

BEND OVER AND ROLL OVER LIKE THE DOG THAT YOU ARE

___________________________________________________________________________

I do tricks, look at me.

I am fun.

I am unspun.

I am doggie!

____________________________________________________________________________Go to Hell.

____________________________________________________________________________

In a world of addiction an addict speaks in fiction to

_____________________________________________________________________

I see flat lines, and dead eyes
______________________________

Is she still still there?

SHE has never been ANYWHERE.

It was this guy ranting about how prison doesn’t sound that bad

1. Free food
2. Free TV
3. Free tablets
4. Free internet
5. 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.

“It was written I should be loyal to the nightmare of my choice.” 

joseph conrad, heart of darkness

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.

Peace

Damien

I am man with knife that spreads jam on toast instead of man who jams in head the killing knife that was made for bread.

I am man who does not stab but cuts apart, an apple instead of human heart, I have realized with my eyes that see, coming out of insanity, that I do not have to be Amanda I can be free. I am released from human cage, a player now not just on page, I do not have to employ rage, I can instead say this I desire human bliss, I can give love, I can give kiss. I am not supposed to be anything but free to be me. I should have known this from the start but drugs and booze they sedated heart, so I used my name as excuse to die, a perpetual never ending cry out for

MORE MORE MORE

Make yourself a living sore on the heart of yours so that you can be, so safely chained to me, addiction, you see is my maker, my taker, my soul breaker.

I love you so, baby please don’t go. I need you so… I need you please, I am kneeling on bent KNEES
GET ON YOUR KNEES HONEY
MONEY MONEY MONEY
CASH CASH CASH PLEASE

I GET PAID WITH SOUL DISSECTION
I GET PAID WITH VIVISECTION
I BELIEVE IN RESURRECTION

Can it happen for me to, help me God, can you teach me to be more like you instead of Mary? I am sad and this is scary, common God please my soul fix?

It is already I told you this, this is Damien you fool, it’s you. You can do whatever you want to.

What is your middle name? Does it carry any special meaning/significance?
De- it means of.

I will not give out my real name, because as I have said many a time I am insane, and it doesn’t matter anyway. I am changing it so I can stay me, and not DIE because I should have been born a guy, and instead of trying to take out another eye, I have two don’t worry, I am not good at surgery in a hurry, I fail at everything I do, and am a chicken a coup, look at me I made you soup.

Question, answer me,

No, oh baby I love you so, who do you speak to lunatic?

Fire of hearts desire to live, I am my own heart’s kid

Kidding me, that is the epitome of narcissism?

I know, baby you know this, just gotta love myself to avoid

Kiss of death, death

Dragon breath, my name is a riddle and a lie, a puzzle piece in the heat of July, a piece of past that makes me

Die, die, die

Roll me please? I am in dungeon and would like to spend these?

They are spare change, they buy me soul, they buy me parts that rebuild hole sole? They make me learn how to spell it too, so I can learn to say to

My name is Damien de Soto. Today, forever, my other names are broken, and irrelevant.

Don’t mess with me buddy, I am crazy, I curse and I bite, like a rabid cat in the night, I also come with scabbies and rabies. I am an infectious disease, I am the Bubonic Plague of the displeased, I am raw, I am vile, I spit acid bile, and only snakes do I attract.

I will make sure weak at knees you, because your not a hero but heroin scar, shot in vein red with color, pain to father and mother, you are a vile sinning creature.

You are the one who speak of, I speak to you disease who reeks of disgusting resentment, so filthy and hell bent, carrying the souls of the lost. I will teach you the meaning of toss.

In the trash you will go, like those carelessly thrown, by the eye of a needle and spoon. For things like you I no longer make room, not addicted

To act of consume. I have found peace and serenity and will no longer be taunted by the sight of the moon.

Do I make you think of stop and go, baby, do I make you feel like you are few

You are doing okay, okay.

You are new at this, fire kissed

Soul of gaping healing hole

I don’t know what I am doing I am so tired of making stew

I know I am you

Is that how this works

Yes, you are doing good at not being a

JERK
You may snap at people but they know it means nothing

Just say you are sorry and move on

That’s okay it goes on? I don’t think that is true

Yes it is I am telling you

I lost my train of thought I am derailed un sailed a life of GARBAGE PAIL
I am metal kettle tea tea tea does it does taste like

POISON HONEY?????
ISN’T

it’s sunny outside

I think I am going for

HEROIN

You are insane

Well, yes….

Clearly………………..

!#JO:Jo;vwo;rjgo;jeohw;q;

This **** has no

LEGS LEGS

BETTER GET

MOVE IT

Shorty

MOVE IT

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If I tell you over and over I am fine you are in a jar and you can’t hurt me so warning warning I am fine, I am fine I am fine.

Trigger Warning: MA EXPLICIT CONTENT Some material may not be suitable for sensitive audience: Schizophrenic/alcoholic addict, my trigger warning is my superstition that you cannot yell at me if I write this, do not judge me I am fine.

https://wordpress.com/tag/dailyprompt-1875

Superstitions

Anything with t’s makes me think of stitching, which makes me think of sowing needles which makes me think of holes in places that drain pain in red rain from dark places that scream in red and I am dead in my head, I dance in a roller coaster car that feels like heroin, heroic plunging into chaos, and that feeling of rush that comes just before a wave smacks into my head and almost breaks my

Chicken neck

Chicken running without head because sorry honey, I desire sometimes to be dead, romancing the second that I see the blood go in a casing of soul that is needle drowning me hole, I write this down in psychotic fixation as a meditation

I JUST WANT DRUGS?

If it’s mediated by the dark screen is it mean to say that I will always be this there is no changing me there is no progress here I am the existence of fear there is no setting sun and sorry honey it’s no fun for me either because it never really ends I dismiss all my friends because I only want

HEROIN

Please forgive me because I know not what I do

I am not like you

I am a drug addict liar

I am a pill buying eye spying act of

Liar liar liar

Circles of fire, if I desire anything I must write it down because then you see

CLEARLY I CAN’T DO

What is spoken to you can I?

I can, I can do anything I want. I am an insane taunt.

I am never learning always haunting

But I think this admission means something

I think somehow you can see me?

I think you can hear me screaming right now, Like you are in my

GET OUT OF MY HOUSE STOP LOOKING AT ME TYPING
I am writing this because you can hear everything I think and somehow this stops you, whoever you are

YOU CLEARLY ARE A LIAR

DISGUST

Stop screaming.. stop screaming stop screaming, they can see me, they are not here. they are no one

Who is they?

they

—used to refer to people in a general way or to a group of people who are not specified https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/they

I am alone in my house, in my motel, in hell but something tells me I am not and that if I write all this down it is somehow more okay

Is it okay?

Well, clearly.

That’s you.

Stitches in the super madness of super stitching i o u

No explanation……

You are insane, Damien

I am not even real and I wrote it down

SO I CAN

NOT FEEL IT ANYMORE.

I’m fine now.

So I talk on here, a throwing of vomit on a black screen, that used to be a street corner, screaming sentences into the night as they come into my head, the lie of no one listens to me, because I want to believe that but the truth is that I scare people, but mostly myself, with the screaming desperation of I am so alone, and yet so surrounded by everyone, and I feel like if I scream on here, maybe everything will be okay. I am writing because it feels better then pacing and crying and laughing and screaming because I can’t see judging eyes on here, asking if I am okay but screaming with that ******* look

GET AWAY FROM ME LUNATIC
Please ignore me right now I am fine.

This just sounds better on here, and I am going to always be like this and it is fine with me

I need to do this.. it makes me better than I was

WAS
AM
ARE SHOOTING STARS ARE
UP THERE

capital letters annoy me

I have no life, I am annoying, and other people seem so normal

CHAOS PLEASE DON’T

look at me in any particular way, this makes my thoughts easier…………………….

to take…………………

What are three objects you couldn’t live without?

I realized I answered this wrong before, so like I usually do, making everything about my whole look at me I was homeless, and unique ****. I hate when I am a millennial stereotype blaming everything for my ridiculousness, and I think my last post personified the bad attitude of my entire generation, which is why I re-answered as above. This question was not another opportunity to provide some sort of lamenting about resentment and my past and whatever…

I put the above because

1. Glasses

• I can’t see clearly without them. I can’t see anything clearly with them anyway, but it is even worse without them. I am even more self centered when I can’t see, because I don’t have to pay attention to anything I don’t want to focus on.
  • This gives me the ability to construct my own reality which I am great at doing, and I am making every effort I can, to stop.
  • It is important for me to maintain eye contact to not distance and alienate myself through constructing illusions to hide behind, the glasses humanize people because they make me realize they are human beings, and important because they have eyes.
• 2. Computer
  • Like I said, I was being a **** using the strict definition of live on purpose as an arrogant I am better than everyone gesture, which kicks no one in the face but me, screaming at the top of my lungs I am better than you because I have suffered more, is stupid, and helps no one.
  • This computer is providing me with the ability to process this stuff and forcing me to have to look in the mirror, when I am being an *** and be accountable for what I say, by it not being able to be erased by a bad memory or my own stupid excuses.
  • It has helped me realize things that I would not have realized without it.
  • I am truly thankful for all the interaction on this site in particular, that has saved my life. I owe this site a lot, and by that I mean Word Press.
• 3. I put the book because meetings are not an object and the book helps me a lot too, when I can’t get to meetings, this is to serve as a mental note as well, because I have to buy another one, I burned mine. For survival, while in the woods, drinking whiskey… so I lied because I was being a jerk.

Sin Seared,

See Clearly

I keep looking down at my stupid hands again. I am terrified I am going to spread the stupid infection throughout my body, even though I am on the gut wrenching medication. I think if nothing else at least it… never mind.. that was insanely unhealthy…

I am psyched my daughter can telepathically communicate with me, I always responded badly to psychoactive substances, and kind of knew she would do them at that party.

You suck, dad.

I figure you had to learn the hard way.

It’s almost over, I can feel it wearing off.

See, told you so, the key is don’t panic, and even if you do they have ways to fix you after you flip out. Everything is going to be okay, and don’t worry your mom can’t do this, so it is safe with me. You can tell her if you want. I don’t want to get in trouble myself.

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.

She is an extremely strange human being. I am beginning to wonder what is the truth about her child. I have not met the girl, and probably never will, I hope. I do not personally care to meet her. I am writing this to you, because something about the whole thing is bothering me. I do not know what.

There is a darkness to Diane that is disconcerting. I do not what it is, but it keeps me up at night and I am thinking it has something to do with this child of hers. The girl is 21 now, I think…. from what I can remember, which is convenient.

We have met others who do what we do, I am studying it as a phenomenon now, they have some sort of ability that involves the manipulation of human beings and the universe. They are all addicts, and I do not know if that is that stupid you associate with those like you crap, or if they are like us because there is something about being an addict that causes us to be able to do this. I feel like I have mentioned this before, but I do not know for sure, because admittedly my memory sucks, and I do not like to admit I have any weakness at all.

I have a hard time making assessments of the reality of what I see because of this, I, in my admitted arrogance, believed and still believe in my ability to manipulate space and time with my hands, that is one of the reasons I take life, aside from being prone to lashing out in fits of rage. I am embarrassed even writing this to you, my unknown observer. I do not like being the kind of person who talks to people, and wonder sometimes if that means I do not like being a human being. I sometimes doubt even that, that I am human at all.

I do not know what that means… I do not know what it means to not believe in my own human body. I guess it just means that I am everything they always said I was, and that for some reason in my wretched existence, I am pathetic enough to not… I am going to stop… I can’t stand hearing myself talk, even if it is out loud while typing to you or sometimes in the ranting chaos that is my own mind.

We are standing next to each other, but in the coldness of night… I can feel our separateness. I can feel that we are merely parts in a universe of pieces, and for a second I panic, knowing that the only thing that connects me to him are threads that are unreal. I have no invisible tether which ties me to this man. I am truly alone, and that frightens me, and I hope, as horrible as it is to say… he is frightened too. I look at him and realize he is crying. I heard him coughing or what I thought is coughing. I walk away slowly, and he starts to say something, but stops and I pretend not to hear.

“I wish….”, echoes into the dark night from his lips, as I walk away. I do not know what he wishes, and I will not find out if he was talking to me. We have an unspoken, understanding that I am not to see his moments of weakness. I simply pretend that he does not have them. We never speak about them.

He comes back over to me, but does not make eye contact with me. His downcast gaze, passes over the ground, painting it with the red stare that he casts on the day walkers. He looks as though he is trying to cast himself off the earth, and there is a part of me that wishes that he could, to end his pain. I do not know what it is about, and dare not ask.

You are the brief release of the crashing confines of my mind.

The walls of chaotic sameness, that smash into my skin, suffocate the entirety of my being, I never feel as free, as I do with you my radiating yellow sun. I have no out other than you. I am nothing…..

I am dust, ghost, chasing vapors, catching of light, I am a spoon full of nothing but death, and long for the breath of you, one who brings life. I love you, so please, please bare with me. I am fine. We will be fine. I will eventually…. do nothing other than what I currently do.

I will hopefully, I hate… myself.

Under the bridges of cities, in the untraveled areas of towns in the darkness of night there is a meeting of sameness, a meeting of men with decaying souls who exist in the bright lights of lonely day silently screaming in acts that scream with hands that kill. They act with howling violence on the streets which are the same in a painted grey, black and white. In the stars is painted the story of atrocity that exists in the heart of every city of human being with humanity.

We were staying under a bridge. He kept talking about the music, and I won’t lie I heard it too. The chaotic piecing together of the sounds of the city, clicking and beeping and screaming. He says it sounds beautiful. It is a symphony of insanity. He says it plays so loud sometimes that he can’t hear people. I wonder if that is why he can’t hear them screaming, I can. I am unsure if I like it or hate it.

“What the fuck?!”

He came up behind me.

“Who are you talking to?” He looks at me, his eyes hot with contempt but his mouth cast to the ground. I do not know what his problem is.

“I wasn’t talking to anyone….” I look him in the eyes at first with anger, thinking the question was an accusation, and then wondering if I was even talking at all. I might have been, I do not know.

“Come on, I have to see a man about something,” I follow without asking any questions.

Sometimes, he leaves me notes, or maybe I leave me notes, when they are not of a completely aggressive nature. I sometimes wonder if the notes were in fact me writing to him, which is actually me writing to me as him, reminded me as him or him as me to drink water so me as me which is really me as him or him as me, to drink running water. I am not sure if the note means to drink water when I run or to make sure not to drink stagnant water or to drink water while running or to drink stagnant water.

I do not know if these notes are coming from him trying to kill me because he wants me to die and him to take over, but if I died wouldn’t he die too? Does he know this? Or is he not aware and this me reminding him to drink it?

Wait… isn’t he just a figment of my imagination anyway, who cares who is writing the notes, they are both me.

I think I am losing my mind.