Under my shoe, under my shoe, it is hidden so cleverly, under my shoe

We were in cahoots, she was my new friend, well not really…

She was my friend, for every minute we contrived, some plan to rip off everyone who as she, was not so divine. In truth, I cared for nothing, not even her kiss, just was on a mission to get a really good fix, for a problem contrived, by a mind addicted to mixed poision, if with her I could have stayed, I would not have not left…

Oh, silly girl, I loved you so, with my friend in love, say it’s not so. I loved you so much, but daren’t piss him off, now I think of you always and never, hope you are better off.

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Sea Goddess, Ocean Siren

I am looking at you, but seeing only me, because I am bitterness reflected, back from eyes that are stained with tearing at myself, bitterness encased in toxic casing which is the current shell I am placed in.

I hate myself, but hated you, because you in some way reflected me too, but that is my problem, even now, I am trying to realize this, and come down, from the pedestal I placed myself on, where I sit alone, and rambling on, about how nothing was my fault.

Is that really how it was, selfish ***hole? No, it wasn’t.

I was addicted to heroine

I was addicted heroin.

I was addicted to heroine

I was addicted heroin

I forever, always and forever, and always and forever will be addicted to heroin

Are you talking to me?

Not you, but it yes…

Why? You want?

We are not doing that ever again

If you do I am coming to

That was not an error Amanda, remember what happened sometimes, the act of coming to

I don’t want that because it will make my… our family sad

I know me neither now.

I re-colored and re-drew you with another human being colored in grey and white, like the reason we would fight, or my lack of light… You are no longer around me, I miss you sometimes, but sleep soundly, knowing it was you who was insane, not me plagued with brain drain, although that is true as well, could not live with you in Hell, which is why you wanted me to begin with……..

Tell me baby, what you wanted, in a voice not so haunted, by all the guys that ever hurt you, because no matter what you say, sorry baby, can’t be the girl you craved, and I wonder now if that was the problem, so maybe I could not have solved it, because in every way, every single one, you were one of the only ones who I do not much negative to say about……..

Glamourized insanity, painted over with pure vanity, in colors holographic, like the daggers that you stab with, cutting below, at my rib and going slow, you are everything you said you were not, hate so cold, and love so not existant at all, like an icy barbie doll, not capable of love, because you were

I don’t remember really.

You provide the only light I see, I am nothing, you are free to leave, I live in Hell, and that’s okay, I am nothing, go away

I am ranting and raving about how it is the only thing, that makes everything allllll riiiiiiiiiiight…………..she is crying hard, I can hear it, but I can’t see clearly……… I think she is telling me to stop because she thinks I am going to die or something……. I don’t think I am going to die…. the two drugs negate eachother… I tell her I’ll be fine, that she can leave if I am disturbing her.

I can’t see you very well

Please get down and go away

I am really not equiped to deal with this

You don’t even know me, and I can assure you I won’t be……missed…….

She tells me she is not getting down, until I get up off the ground. I tell her no and that I will be fine, she doesn’t know me, my life is mine……..I can ruin it if I want…….

Please leave me alone

I am fine

I am resigned to this

This is my space

of

Errrrrrrrrrrraaaaassssssseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

I hate myself…. I lived in Hell…… and can’t get past….. the past in which I dwell….

You were so kind to try to help me, and I pushed you and everyone else away…..

Memory, memory, of things that were not important enough to me to stop………… making people cry when they only wished I wouldn’t die…

I am so sorry, I never even bothered to learn your name, you saved my life, and I never even bothered to learn your name.

Paint me with ghostly luminance, paint me with loss, paint me with cost, paint with the payment for a life spent sauced.

Not to long ago, but not tonight, and on that night, not tonight, I was alright with the fact that I was alone, laying there with no one because I felt the universe cradling me with the moss on the ground and the resounding sound of the crickets, the anticipated sounds of morning doves..

On that night, not tonight, I didn’t feel alone at all, just simply by myself, with the universe, but not alone….

On that night, not tonight, I was aware of the existence of time, and the fact that life and living was a story, a continuous ever changing story with many players, that I was simply a part of not the center of, and in this story, for whatever reason I was alone because everyone happened to be doing something else…

On that night, not tonight, every thing was alright me.

I remember this, tonight, when I am deeply lonely, right now, looking out at a world that I caused to be away from me by my own selfishness… that I pushed away by own drug seeking and drinking… I wish for that night not tonight.

I am sitting outside, waiting for someone, I don’t remember her name, just remember that she had something that I wanted, and I was supposed to wait outside, because she wanted to talk to you alone, but all I wanted was to talk to you alone. Looking at you made me forget anything I had ever wanted in my entire life. You smelled like roses, and you laughed at very specific things, which indicated you were laughing not as a show, but because you had a very specific and unique sense of humor.

You laugh, and it is like someone opened a window, and I realized it has been sweltering hot in any room I have ever been in, and you are cool refreshing water

Your laugh sounds like a waterfall, washing over everything in my life and making it alright, making everything alright, washing every bit of pain out of me… just for the couple seconds that I look into your eyes.

You have someone else, someone who is also waiting for the same thing I am waiting for, but I wish neither of us were waiting for that, in this moment from the past, I wish that I had never done any drugs at all, and could be just standing there with you listening to you laugh, it was better than any drug I have ever done.

To the author, this is a taste of your own medicine.

I am talking to myself.

I am aggressive because I am afraid of myself. I

Fear imperfection because I am in love myself

I am a narcissistic

Per so n on s h elf

The troll lives outside, and is invisible. It is not me this time.

It lurks in everything, in potentiality, for always and forever.

It really sounds like you.

Shut up and go with me.

Okay, fine.

It is under anything that causes

DISCOMFORT

DISCOMFORT

Stop that now.

Good Job.

I now you have a thing about the number three, and you are not divine, so stop it.

Okay.

I am the Crow 2.

I am the crow too.

I am the crow to, as well, as an adjective of a human being who steals from other human beings while they are not looking.

I am the crow, two

There are two of me.

Welcome to Hell, Misery painted with wine, and whinning. no winning just whinning, from spendthrift dime stealers.

Penny for your thoughts?

No I am sparring not sparing change.

I am disdain, acid reign, wishing for soul washing rain.

Ahahahahahhhahahahhahhhahahahhahahahhahhahahhahahhahhahhahahah

I am the horrors of walking next to an active user.

I am the non-heroic heroin user.

I am resentment of past action.

I am true admissions of a soul attacking soul attacker

I am hopefully getting over this.

I am actively seeking forgiveness.

I know this comes from something higher.

But I am more comfortable crucifying myself.

I am more comfortable doing this to myself.

I need help.

ahhhahahhahhahhahahhhahahhahhahahhahhahahhahha

I have no tent, because I can fly so high, that I need not sleep, because I am high as Hades.

I am a looter of the looted by life, I am the riddler of strife.

I am the stealer of unwatched things, I am heroin addict, unwatched, on meth, stealing while you sleep to buy drugs.

I am the confessions of an ***hole, who is no longer on drugs.

You, ripped my heart out, all the details of who you were, and my lies about who I was, are irrelevant to the fact that you destroyed me, very much on purpose, pretending to be something that you were not. I believed you, and let you try and change me. I was foolish, I know, but you were cruel, and that is worse than anything. You had me, telling me you would help me, that talking to you and learning from you would make me better, that all your criticism was going somewhere, so gradually… I took it… allowed you to beat me down.. believing that you weren’t going to just beat me down…

You told me I needed you, that I was lacking ways that demanded your presence in my life, that you were a tool of the universe..

And you were, a knife.

I don’t know why you did it, because what it looks like is probably what it is…

I was your source of drugs.

That kills me.

That was all I was.

I never wanted that.

I never wanted the drugs more than you.

I would have given them up for you.

I was only a dealer, only a tool of manipulation, only a criminal, facilitating your downfall, and then you told me that, after making me that… I wanted to be so much more to you, but okay, if it helps you. I am the bad person.

I can just walk away, so please stop calling me, please stop asking about me. I was just your dealer, and I don’t do drugs or drink anymore, please lose my number, Justin/Rei.

Damien/Amanda

His name was Chris which is ironic, because he is a christian, so I think it is a set up somehow, like somehow someone is sending someone to spy on me and naming the characters they send after me in mocking style, because obviously I am that important right? Didn’t realize at the time, how ****ing narcissistic that was, and it is only now, that the paranoia is starting to fade, that there is not some secret plot to take me down specifically, because I am just a lying drug addict alcoholic, and I am not sure why being a serial killer sounded better than that… I have no idea.. it made me feel less powerless… I think.

I am very angry at myself about all this, because looking back at it, I realize how much of *** I was… how even though I thought I was always getting ripped of and deserved so much better, how much better could you expect your life to be when you are con-artist who panhandles for heroin, and basically tries to make people afraid to not give you money. I used to make 200 dollars a day doing this, the key was to look like you are going to rob them for more than they give you freely, and then if you get caught, you are a pretty girl, and you change your voice, and Damien is your ex boyfriend who put you up to it, and he hits you and you just want to get away.

I was such a piece of ****.

Damien

TRIGGER WARNING: About sex workers or prostitution, and revelation of moments of clarity, mentions drug use and is very graphic do not read if you can’t handle this. I am writing for my own recovery, and to cleanse my own mind and soul.

You were the last man to touch me for free, and now they will never touch me again, because I realize, I charged with the charge of a heart scarred by being untrue to me. I did not want to be with any of you at all. I was not that kind of… person. I charged for the scars to my arms, to my soul, to the eternal burning hole in everything that it is to be me, and give things heroically in falsehood because what I was really doing was buying letters carved in human skin that told stories of heroic-ness, but what I was really doing was sleeping with people for free drugs… nothing more nothing less.

We search your basement hideout for your **** which you already did, I know because we did it together, but you don’t remember this, because we were together for a second, being together in love with each other for the brief second that rocks are thrown on table,

Rock, paper scissor

Scissor, I cut you out of my life, toxic friend, and all men, that make me exchange sex for bitter rocks, cast at my soul.

I like women better anyway.

“I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.”

Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis

I have always wanted the peace of joyous people. I am crazy. I am dominated by fear and have been since eight years old when I experienced early onset of paranoid schizophrenia. I became unable at this time to control my actions easily and began drinking and using to deal with this at 13. I would steal alcohol and drugs or buy drugs anytime I could, because I also have hydrocephalus, a birth injury from a failure of the doctor who delivered me, I am lucky to be alive, so I decided to have a hissy fit about it my whole life and use it as an excuse for my addict/alcoholic life style. I am this way because I am an addict and alcoholic first and foremost.

Since I was a child, I could not figure out what enough even meant. I don’t like being told no even by my own self. I am addicted to pain because seizures have dulled my nerves, which were further dulled by self medicating my neurotic mind with substances, which I worshiped like idols, and built my whole life around the pursuit of.

I have nothing now because I chose this, so please, my desire is not for pity, just for people to understand what drives an insane man.

I love humanity while also hating you, which I separate myself from because I am weak, terrified and selfish. I see this now in lucidity. I am so guilty every second, but trying to make my life now, not about me. I am so sorry. I am doing my best to change, my **** that I post, it helps me, it is exaggerated and mostly allegory, but my feelings are real and they are hard for me to deal with so I process them with lies that have feelings inside them.

“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 have the most bad *** cat in the entire world, he makes weird noises, gets angry really easy and swats you if you don’t do exactly what he wants he doesn’t have a name, we all call him The Guy. He is the best guy in the entire world. He was angry at me last night, so he slept out here in the living room, so I just sang him a song, and pet him and now we are cool again, he made a weird sound and looked at me like he loved me, so I think we have made amends, heh.

I am looking at the painting of a boat right now, it is a rowboat which terrified me as a child, I was always afraid of getting in those, because I don’t know how to do anything, I can swim though, I am just afraid of deep stagnant water, which is why it is the best place to drop dead thoughts or you know things I don’t want to think about like bodies.. or my metaphor for people I should have cared more about and stopped from doing heroin before they ended up dying in their dying parent’s basement. I miss you Sue, you didn’t deserve to die alone and afraid, and that shit was good, but not good enough to be worth never seeing your smiling face again, I loved you so much you fragile creature. You made me feel like a human being for the first time in my whole life……. I hate myself.

Wash. rinse. repeat. I am such a basket case.

I like Cadbury eggs, they are really good.

Peace and love.

Damien

Yes, I am just having a really hard time. I hate myself a lot. I don’t know what to do anymore. I hate that she did that stuff. I hate that I probably know who she got it from, and that my first two thoughts were awful, because one I wanted to kill the guy, and two I was jealous of her for getting high. What is wrong with me.

Don’t kill him. And you’re an addict, just don’t act irrationally.

Says the girl who has been ranting about her chopped off leg all day. How can I be so in love with myself and hate myself so much at the same time?

You’re an addict, please be kinder to yourself. It doesn’t help you to do this.

I am supposed to be honest though, isn’t that what this is?

Yes, and no. You are dwelling on the past, you can’t resent yourself for your past. If it didn’t happen that way, you might not even have your daughter.

Is your leg okay?

I am trying not to think about it, my mom is taking me to the hospital in the morning.

How is it going with her?

Same as it is with your family. I owe them and I am trying, but I am annoyed very easy and want to be alone.

We really are the same two spirit, split across dimensions then.

I love you, not in a gross way, but I mean I love that you are me too.

I am happy to hear that, maybe I can learn to love me too.

Please. I don’t want to lose you.

I won’t do anything stupid. I am not allowed anymore. I want to cry.

So cry.

I might. I was so stupid. I ruined so many things. I……..

You are doing okay, hey you are working and taking the right steps forward.

I just feel like the working thing is selfish avoidance too. I am looking for any reason I can to stay away from people so I don’t hurt anyone again, which can’t be healthy.

I don’t think that is, no. Just stop beating yourself up. How do you feel about the higher power thing?

I don’t know. I think they would hate me. I have done awful things.

Please just try to forgive yourself.

Okay, thank you, my friend. I will be okay.

Hey, what has no legs and can’t run away?

Bad heroin

Remember it’s bad and why you feel like this, and you will be okay, oh and your receptors reset eventually.

I just wish my soul would.

Just forgive yourself and turn over your will. Trust in something higher than you. Please.

Lives a girl with a strange face, that radiates grace, with arms that trace my heart and dance with my soul, and eyes that scream hold me for I bring calm. She wears in her hair flowers of plenty, and sleeps on fallen palms in a garden alone decorated with white stones. She is the sensation of shining, she is the light divining the nature of man. She is the goddess of love, she has eyes of a dove. Her presence screams love, ever silently so, but my heart tells me know. I am not able. I am not ready. My knees are unsteady.

I do know you, that I know is true. I have not met you, but for some reason I regret you. I want to get away, your eyes tell me stay. You are my desire to forsake, everything I know, even though I know not. My heart is fraught with pain over the sight of you, my dear, so much so I shed tear. You are a tearing, a breaking, a heaving, a dissenting an unrelenting screaming of my soul, a digging of hole in my chest, which beats with heart gone, for I have forgotten love’s song. I am alone, even with him. I am just me, I am blind, I am not free. I cost money to be. I am the servant of the weak. I am the desire to seek.

I am of no use. I am pain’s juice.

I turn around and he’s gone. I hear nothing but solemn ding dong of clock not around, and the calling of hounds, from where I know not, but my soul it is caught in a fire storm mist, with skin writhing with twist of pain felt in in brain only, I am so lonely.