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.
I brought you a flower, it is nothing.
It is picked from the middle of nowhere, or from nothing.
I mean I can’t remember who you are and was walking, and you are looking at me like you know me, and began talking, and I am holding this, so it must be for you right, and I am sorry, because I no longer have any idea who you are, and this will likely only last a couple minutes, something must have happened that bothered me, and I blanked it out, and now I don’t remember, so here is a flower.
She must have hurt your feelings, this is exactly what happens when people make you cry.
I know this, but I don’t remember why, so it is okay for now. I am just going to forget about it for now.
You should find out why.
Sometimes, I wake up and I am not me, but someone else, somewhere else, and if nothing else, I am aware, that this means very bad things are happening to me, somewhere else, where I am actually myself. This time, I wake up in a painting. I am not sure why, but I am aware that I am in the painting, which kind of feels like lucid dreaming for normal people, I guess.
It feels like actually being in a canoe, like I am imagining is in the painting which I am hallucinating, or for regular people, lucid dreaming. The only difference is very strange. I am extremely warm. It feels like sunburn.
I am so warm in fact, that I want to jump out of the canoe, which I do, immediately, and feel the water in the painting hit my skin, but also feel the burning sensation go away, as I imagine other water hits my real skin. I am comforted by this fact, that somewhere ele, where I actually am, I am not burning alive, and then I hear it, a commotion, coming from somewhere else, it is a sound I recognize, fire alarm, blarring, somewhere else.
My apartment is on fire.
I am brought back to present time, someone is spraying those of us walking out with a firehose. I am holding a painting of people in a canoe. The strange thing is, it is not the painting from my apartment, there is someone in the waterr next to the canoe, they were not there before.
She is obviously disfunctional in some sort of way, because she begins laying on my floor, after hearing that she has my heart, coming from someone who has known her for two hours, which is not possible for most. For me, in a way, it is. I will forever remember her like this. Her laugh sounds like someone breathed perfume into a blue balloon. She is the birth of day after a storm, she is the eighteenth birthday of a troubled child. I love her truely, deeply, as much as you can love anyone that you just met. Her name will not be mentioned, because she is a real human being, that I dated for 3 days when I was 18.
They were the best three days of my life, she broke up with me, because she realized I had not lied to her, when I told her I was insane, which screamed at me, while throwing everything I gave her in the three days I was with her right at my face. She wanted to see me cry, she didn’t get to. I got drunk instead, I sometimes feel like I had been drunk until this year, wasted away from the memory of her. She has such a unique name, too bad it will never be revealed online…
She looks for my writing online sometimes, she has written to me since then, and I always pretend it is not me, because she really hurt me, if I am being honest…
To See Clearly, In deed, I Cation by Ms. Re
I am a strange change in the wind, as you begin to realize everything you have ever realized is
He tells me birds are not real
He tells me that someone he knows has told him that they heard me say birds are not real.
He tells a story about how my friend told him I said birds are not real after participating in a joking conversation about birds not being real, but instead robots in the sky. He thinks this is funny and laughs with me and my friend.
My friend thinks I am funny, she thinks my take on her hippy stoner questions are funny, she realizes I am trying to make her laugh.
Elizabeth thinks you are insane.
She does? I do not recall Elizabeth ever saying this, and if she did say this why didn’t she say this to me?
They call me spare change, I am the act of re-order everything you know.
She tells me she is crazy
She wants to make me fear her, fear what she will do to me if I do what?
I care about none of this.
I don’t think she knows what the word insanity means, I exist in your bad dreams, I am everything that is just frightening enough to make you go away, so I can stay forever alone, alone, alone, by myself in my own HELL.
I am digital re-touch
I am nightmares never dreams
I am finding self-loathing in everything
Because I am oh, so good at bad dreams
You are screaming at me, and I am seeing this, such a tragic reaction my mind has to the rage of others, making it impossible to hear anything they are saying…
You have no power over me, I live in HELL, you are all bad dreams, meaning nothing, because neither do I
You think you can make me cry.
Oh, so sad.. I have something in my eye… I
don’t cry for anyone anymore, my entire life is garbage on the floor of HELL
You don’t like me, leave then, don’t care, just as well, not changing for anyone, never again. I can be my own best friend, you think I need you.
I need nothing, I would rather die than live in your reality of soul sucking.
GO TO HELL or actually, don’t that’s where I live, and you deserve
soooooooo much better…………
I see you, but I do not, I just know that your hate for me is something I don’t give TWO ***** about.
and I don’t like being burned so I go here, to my own perpetual land of jeer, of making fun of everything around, including me, and ignoring sound,
You hate me do you, do you really? I see it on you ****ing clearly, I don’t know what it was I said, silly girl, wishing I was dead, you can’t kill me with your words. I can’t even kill myself with myself with my ****ing hands, and believe me I have tried.
In the dark of night a fire burns and creates light, the only light under a bridge, in a barrel without lid, burning free for all with site because no one cares no need to fight to hide anything at all because
There is no love for the ever shoved, no one will come to put it out, no one will scream, no one will shout, they want you warm and then want you free, to die under the bridge on your own bent knee, cast to the ground in twisted form, dying from own hand, and sick with scorn, you did it to yourself, now they can say, and so poor addict is thrown away.
The poor exist under bridges of a country, that forgets the addicted and poor and hungry, that ignores addiction and mental illness, and then questions sadness of it children.
You showed me how to love anything again, being my friend when I was not even a friend to myself, licking my hands, when I was still not over the missing finger tips, showing me it is okay to have gone astray.
I had a cat like you once, who died tragically, and I never got over it, until you, your liking of my wounded hands, also helped me like my own soul again, forgiving myself for the fact that I am not super-human and couldn’t save your fellow cat from peril, when I could barely save myself.
Your licking of my hands, licked the wounds that were made on my soul so long ago, when I was too drunk to think clearly to save anyone but myself from what befell my life.
I love you as I loved my other cats, and some part of me thinks you will tell them for me, because I can feel them forgiving me for not being super-human enough to save them, when you lick my hands.
I am sitting in around a campfire, around not being the appropriate word, unless you count the fact that there are always two of me, and then around or triangle would be the appropriate word with Rei/whoever the *** she/he is.
That girl at work said something funny at work, and it reminded me of you.
She said she doesn’t think birds are real. Did you tell her you don’t think birds are real?
In every situation, I am her enemy, in every situation I behaved as her friend
In every situation I was the villian and for some reason she never wanted it to end.
I don’t want her thinking we are weird, why would you tell her birds are not real?? Plus, why don’t you have any concern for the sanity of the poor girl.. just because you are insane, doesn’t give you the right to…
Who said it was me who said it?
Who else would it be?
It wasn’t me, and I completely believe that birds are real, I talk to them all the time.
See what I mean? Why would you think that was a good thing to say?
No, I am saying I was doing what the universe told me to.
I pushed a fox out of hole, and he died because I am selfish, or was anyway, I think someone ate him.
The streets of this country are riddled with screaming, every street corner, ever cover of darkness, is surrounded by the screaming criers of the night, who scream in languages only some can understand.
They talk to me, clearly, not her name, but meaning I understand them, and they speak to me in plain English, because that is the language of the country I am in, unofficially.
We talk of survival, not manipulation, but survival, of who is the best person to ask for money, who will likely hand over a dollar, I am good at this, good at awkward prolonged eye contact, I help them, my fellow nightcriers.
I miss them dearly, clearly, not her name, **** her name.
They are just like everyone else, except their lives have been riddled with danger, and because they are addicts they used or drank about it, and the judgement of others, bothers me endlessly.
You are in every memory I have for seven years.
Staring at me, with hatred
Hate read in every action you take towards me, every moment of every day daunted by daunting distrust, by judgement, and pain, that was partly my doing
Also yours, and you could have left any time you wanted by the way, and I left all the time, and you followed me.
I saw you looking at me the whole time, like a medusa, the snake that you thought I was being images cast out of my own head, to scare you away.
I am past this in a lot of ways, but everything reminds me of you, and what I thought you were, because you are in every memory I have for seven years, and I wonder how much of my mental illness getting worse was because of that.
I was blind, my whole life, I was blind lived in self-inflicted strife. I was blind. I was blind. I had no eyes, couldn’t see, I had eyes but they were blacked out, they were blurry, couldn’t see. I was blind couldn’t see. Clearly.
I walked through life, walking slow, walking fast, running away, running to, running from, running with, running, runnning, on nothing, no road, no path, nothing, nothing, nothing.
I was nothing. I was nothing.
I was nothing. I was nothing.
I was with him, I was with you.
I was ran. I was running.
On nothing, with someone who was me, who is me.
I ran to things, towards things, and for things.
Just elation, addicted to derived sensation. Nothing more, nothing less, no crime, just desire to injest.
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.
An individual drives to an animal shelter, they are a good dog trainer, having trained many dogs, of all kinds. They drive to an animal shelter, and adopt a dog. The dog has a history of being used to rescue people from burning buildings, but has hurt its leg, so it is no longer useful for its job, and was put up for adoption, out of kindness.
The dog seems nice enough, it sits scared in the corner, but responds nicely to anyone who comes to see it, however it remains in its corner.
A brave soul adopt the dog, takes it home, and it does well except it refuses to sleep in the spot desired for it.
It instead sleeps right by the door to backyard. Thinking, themself clever, the new owner tries to re-train the dog. They want only for it to experience comfort, unknowing of what discomfort is caused by the re-train process, they begin to try to change the nature of the dog.
It takes one month for the owner to re-turn, unsure of why the dog was so good at first, but when presented with normality it slowly slipped into “untrainability”.
All you had to do was let it sleep by the door
Which it did because it had been used to being in burning buildings
And found comfort in being by the exit
Why do the “normal” find it comforting to force the abnormal to be them?
This is uncomfortable for us.
If we are allowed to be
We can recover
Do not try to change us
It harms us
It involved having a PTSD flashback and mental breakdown, that I am still dealing with the ramifications of now. My entire body hurts, its strange. I think it might be good that this happened, it happened and I am not dead, so that’s good… I guess? I just want to get away from here… I am trying to deal with someone who does not understand that whatever they may feel, it is not appropriate to follow everyone around shouting about their views, when their views weren’t asked. They weren’t involved in any specific discussion with me, they just were going around literally and I mean this literally meaning this is what happened… over and over and over and over and over and over repeating and repeating
Stand here and listen to everything I say for 30 minutes, even though I know you are doing something, even though you asked me kindly to stop, even though you have made it clear that you don’t want to talk about this.
These are my political views
This is why I am right.
This is how this applies to this topic which has nothing to do with politics.
Look at this video that is 10 minutes long with someone saying I am right.
Read this thing that says I am right.
If I said no to any of this, they would follow me around screaming about I was not educated, unkind, and wrong.
If I said nothing, they would scream about how I was not listening.
If I walked away they would follow me, explaining how they have a right to have their views heard.
The thing is, I never asked for their views about politics. I said I like chocolate ice cream.
This is literally insane. The chocolate ice cream example is not an exaggeration, it is not the thing that started the thing, but it was something like that, and I had such a hard core panic attack and episode after what they did, I can’t even remember what they decided to use as an opportunity to attack views I don’t even have. I am not political at all really, I like to stay out of other people’s business…
I am exhausted and am going to bed. I wish I could leave this house. I am going to work on that going forward every day now, this is insanity.
What are you looking at honey?
I am standing at the dock, staring out over the water, mesmerized by the way the moon paints the waves with light.
I am cold, not prone to waking up with jackets on, not sure why this is, but I am shaking, but it is alright because it is keeping me aware.
I am listening to a conversation that I am not sure,
Yes, it is real..
I feel hate running red, through my veins, through my entire body, unsure of the exact nature of this, I am aware that it relates to my passenger, Amanda.
She hates this woman, that I can hear now, her voice grating, she’s bragging about something, why would she? Why would she be shouting about drugs outside in the middle of the night? Understood. I get it. This person is a ****.
I am unsure of what the expectation is of my borrowing this body, I think they just didn’t want to be here right now, so screw it. I am going to the convenience store.
Daily writing prompt
When you were five, what did you want to be when you grew up?
I wanted to be free from being in the back of my own head, living a life of falsehood, bad faith pretending to be something I was not just because I thought society would not accept me, us, both of us. I am two people. I don’t care how insane that sounds. I have the thoughts and opinions of two people, and can give two completely separate sets of reactions. I am also me, and trapped in a girls body, but she needed me, she hates herself, because she doesn’t want to be a girl either. Neither of us did. I think we were sentenced to this, because we are both supposed to do something together, but I am crazy and have an overinflated sense of self-importance, so don’t listen to me.
I have no idea what question… oh yeah… when I grew up… I don’t know alive? I will settle for alive… not being dead is good.
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.
I was talking to a friend of mine today, and I am not sure, how much of the physical pain I am in is even real anymore. I don’t know if I am just pacing, consumed with hallucinations and trying to meditate on something physical. I used to squeeze my hands till they would bleed, physically digging my nails into my own hands, until I dug holes into my skin. I wonder if this is like that. I wonder how much of this is because I am trying to distract myself from the things that make it so hard for me to be normal.
I wish I knew what it felt like to be normal. I am always thinking of running away, running back outside, I hate it out there.. but I have never known anything different. I have always been running to something, but when I get there.. I leave.. I just can’t stay still. I don’t know what it means to stay still. The idea of still terrifies me.
I wish I could stay still. People like still. They don’t like this, they want to help this, but I am not sure they can. I am not sure about anything. I am just hoping that something will change this time. I am hoping I can find peace somewhere and not hate it. I am so tired of hating happiness. I am so tired of searching for something, finding it and then not wanting it.
I want to want something, but I have no idea what that even means. I am so tired. I am so sick of this. I just want something to work this time, so I can finally be okay with idea of things being okay, I am so tired of ruining my life.
I don’t want the drugs or the booze anymore, and I don’t have any other way of ruining my life, which scares me, which is crazy.. I am scared by the possibility that I may be forced to be happy.. like happy is a bad thing.. I know how insane that is, but still I feel that, and it is the strangest thing.
I recognize the insanity of it, and yet, I still feel the desire to ruin my life, even though I don’t want to.
I am so thankful that at least I really don’t have it in me to do any drugs or drink again, I don’t think my body can handle it anymore. I am so tired… and my hands feel like they are on fire, my stomach is rotted away because of drinking.. I am so done.. I am just hoping that I will learn to know peace at night.
I am looking at you, and wonder how you do that?
That standing upside down thing? That standing inverted thing?
How did you make the world flip over?
I don’t get it…
Please come closer..
I also would like to know…
Why my legs hurt and feel like they may go
Out from under me….
I can see you know by your grimace…
You seem to know something I do not…
Now please tell me….
My face is hot with…
I can’t feel…
Let go, your hanging upside down from a tree. The ground is right below you, let go, and it will catch you, you can even touch it, just open your eyes, you have your eyes shut, you are seeing things not there, your eyes are shut, open them, and get down from hanging upside down.
I used to wash my hands a lot, when I was so elated, that I could have been instated to a psych ward for lack of a pillow because I hadn’t slept in days, because I was so happy
To pace around looking for a place to sleep where no one could
Steal everything I own, hurt me, kill me, or follow me for the rest of my life, so I decided to cause my own strive instead, sitting and consuming my own caustic poisons in dark rooms with friends in that shrouded themselves in clothing that hide their face, like I hid my face, because we hated ourselves so much we desired only to be not there at all, so high above you all… but not really….
How low can I go… I don’t know.. have you ever slept in 30 degree weather in New Mexico in the rain or sleet because you spent all your money on things that were not food or shelter?
Do you know what I felt there?
Over the line…
To a mind…..
The drain….. A human stain on the brain of a person who is now so different.. I am trying to forget, but have not yet, and maybe I shouldn’t, but I don’t know how to move on, and least for today.. I am singing different song..
We cannot be you. We can’t do what you do. We can’t un-see what we have seen, no matter how many joyous reflections you show, we are not being mean, we are not trying to make sad, we are not trying to take your right to be glad, we are simply driven mad by padded rooms and death coming soon that we fled in cover of night, with biting mouth that held so tight, so do not ask me I cannot say anything that makes you happy stay.
I had a life you did not know, I know I chose to make it so, but I am not trying to take your gladness, I just simply exist in world of sadness. I cannot relate to you and I am sorry. I am not trying to make you cry hotly. I am just simply not like you, and I do not know what I can do, to show you no matter what you say.
The parts that make me, me will not go away.
It’s blurry, and I can see a light house, but I don’t know why, I don’t know where I am, and why I am standing, right here right now.
I feel like I am going to throw up. I am moving forward slowly. I reach out for something to steady myself and can’t find anything, I think I am on a dock somewhere, or a board walk. Probably a board walk, a dock would be moving more, but I am dizzy, and it starts to feel like it might be a dock…
I lurch forward…… vomiting on my shoes..
I realize it is a dock, and dip my foot in the water…..
It cleans off the vomit.
I sit down.
There are people talking about a restaurant next door, it smells like Indian food. I can smell garlic and curry.
I stand up and go behind the restaurant.
There is a blanket on a broken chair.
I had a friend of mine really help me today, they told me something that helped me realize why I have been having such a hard time. I think that I have to do everything the right way the first time, if I don’t I get frustrated and experience feelings of PTSD from trauma from addiction and I start to hallucinate, and think paranoid thoughts like the bananas in the advertising in the store are there to taunt me, because the people who run the store know I am a thief and know that I am there and are doing this at me to taunt me and people like me, because they hate us and its a conspiracy against us, perpetrated by them, who is everyone who is not us.
My friend told me that this is just symptom of PTSD and that it will get better if I learn to forgive myself gradually and then the guilt will go away which is actually behind these episodes. My point being that I was able to take a step back from this paranoid thinking, and realize what was going on, and take myself out it to the point where it stopped happening, this has never happened for me before. I am so happy for this being a thing for me. I really thought this was not ever possible. I thought I was not normal and not ever going to be able to permanently change, because I was broken in some way, my friend told me that is just addict thinking, not unique to me, and just saved me from ruining my own day.
My family finds it funny that I am still insanely jumpy from living outside, so randomly they will scream and I will scream back at them in various explicit ways and then feel like an ***. I am actually grateful they are doing it because it keeps forcing me to apologize after acting out irrationally. I think, even though they don’t admit it, that is why they keep doing it. I used to never apologize for anything, and I think they like hearing me say I am sorry, over and over again, which I guess I owe them.