I love you baby, I love you sweety, I love you deeply, I loved you sweetly, ever and completely, I hate you hunny, I hate you so fully, so much

She was my lover, she was my girl, she was my everything, spinning round and round, and turning upside down, down side up, upside side down, round and over, and upside all around.

You meant nothing, you meant nothing, you meant nothing, you are nothing to me, leave me alone, leave me alone.

I am happy now, this is all in the past.

Looking glass

Looking glass

Looking glass

Alcoholism encased

Addict in blank space

I loved her with everything I had. Baby, oh baby, why did you not give me anything, when I gave you

EVERYTHING I

had

You were big and I was small. you were big and I was small.

She loves me not she loves me not she loves me not she loves me not she loves me not she loves me not she loves me not

I am the lie I am the lie I am the lie I am the lie I the lie I am the Eye am I Eye am I I am I

She meant nothing to me, lie

She meant everything to me, and I meant heroin to her.

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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.

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.

Sympathy from the Devil

I spit green fire. I am beautiful. I am a super human, born of strength.

Is that supposed to be me? Loser.. it doesn’t look like me or anyone we know..

I painted you in a way you hate.

This isn’t even painted, it is a digital image re-touch thing.

Don’t you hate stupidity??

Yes.

Double win.

You have nothing of mine, because you do not need it, you are so divine, need no refining touch, so I painted you badly, sadly, tragically so, I love you, though I don’t know you, never will, so sad, too bad, my sweet princess, we will never go to the far below, because I am trying to get over…

Over and over and over, up and out of the of the Hell, that is life without, anyone but me, I do not…

Yes, you do liar.

I am.

I know this, that is why I said it.

We are doing the same thing we used to do at the bar, but this time we are alone, without other people doing it too, and without alcohol or drugs… how does it feel?

Like I am cutting myself off at the knees, but I kind of like it?

Good… me too.

I wonder if this will ever get better…

I don’t think it can get worse than this, so I think we will either die, or it will get better… or it will stay just this bad forever and ever…

How bad is this?

I don’t know, it has always been this… so how bad is it really?

I am still alive? I guess that means it is okay enough…

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.

I was so glad to meet you.

I will not write ya, other than sarcastically.

I am aside, because I hide behind narcissism, a deadly schizm, made by fear, I am not able to hear anything critical at all, I will cut my ****ing ears off…

I hate myself enough…

What happened to you that day, when I didn’t care enough to come find you in New York, I was your phone a friend, and I am afraid, always, when I think of you, that you went back home, because of me, because I didn’t care.

We were each others only friends, for a time, albeit short, like my other friends

INABILITY TO MAINTAIN LONG-TERM RELATIONSHIPS

That goes for you too, ****.

I wasn’t the one talking.

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.

I am an idiot. I am a jerk. I am a liar.

Describe a positive thing a family member has done for you.

You were not who I painted you out to be, obviously, clearly, painted, seen through tainted lens, made obvious to everyone but me.

Lens painted by lack of clarity.

The real story is that you did not trust me. You were up my ***, confidence in me, rusted, by lack of knowledge of what I was like, which was fair, heroin addict, addicted to strife.

I forgot what it was like to be you, was unable to lift myself out of my lack of shoes.

I forgot what you had done because I hated myself.

Forgot how you had found me

Forgot who I used to be

Forgot the pulling, and the lifting from the street……

I am so sorry……….

I hate admitting that you helped me……….

I hate admitting that I failed…

I hate admitting that I needed anyone at all……….

I hate admitting that I couldn’t do ANYTHING on my own………….

I still resent myself for being an addict

I still resent myself for being an alcoholic

I am working on this

But I know now

I love you for what you did for me

I am so sorry for what I did all these years to you

You are also not who I painted you to be

That was a reflection of my own weakness

And unwillingness to accept that I can’t handle my own ****

I

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 used to hate you, standing over here, seeing you as potential cash.

I am the ever bounced check on my own soul.

No longer bouncing, just burned and tossed in the trash.

I am in debt to you, for having fed someone with hand-outs.

The light is blinding, but maybe it will get less so if I stop walking in the dark.

I look at you, and you seem so peaceful, glittering with love for one another, in a way I have never had love for anyone or anything.

Your laughs and voices telling stories of times shared, not taken.

Glances shared paint your lives with love and joy, which I don’t understand, not yet, being a glance stealer, not a glance giver.

I am not good at seeing anything, but at looking and casting doubt and disdain, and living in pain, an excuse for cowardly escape.

I am seeing you now, and realizing you always have been stronger than I ever was, because you need eachother, which means you can depend on eachother.

You look to eachother for strength instead of finding strength in sticks and stones.

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.

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 sorry, I am insane, I am in pain, I am acid rain, I am soul disdain of my own making and continuous breaking, taking liberties.

But the fool on the hill sees the sun going down
And the eyes in his head see the world spinning around

The Beatles, “The Fool on the Hill”

I once told someone something very strange. They were complaining to me about their ex ALL THE TIME…..

Hey ***hole…

Yeah, just realized that too..

I am sorry by the way, to anyone reading this, who still hasn’t decided to not read it, because you can, because I am annoying.

Why do they need your permission?

Noted.

This post is now about something else. Moving on.

Peace.

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.

Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards. 

Soren Kierkegaard

You are so much better

You glow in a dark world

You are so much more than anything

I could ever be

You seem so happy and care free, thinking about happy things, and living free and givingly, wondering why bad things happen, questioning why me? Why them?

I envy you, the constant debate of free soul floating through life in conversation with self and human being.

You do not understand what lurks beneath, and sometimes I wish I did not either.

You walk on the ground, looking up, not casting eyes down. I

am forever in a swamp.

I cast my heads up, I have two I think, two headed dragon, I think, fire breathing darkness lurker.

I hide in shadows, because I scare you, I say things and you look at me like this, like a creature with multiple heads, are there places for three headed dogs?

I don’t know..,

I am still so afraid of jumping off a cliff, and saying to something I don’t know that I completely trust it, my own inner darkness, fear resentment, paints my every movement, with the dark shadows that haunt my nightmares, why I don’t know, I am riddled with the questioning that comes from hating my own self, because I can’t completely trust things..

I am so afraid of you.

I know you say you love me

I don’t understand how you could know that

I don’t understand it, at all

I don’t get why something so good would make something so bad

I know all I am is an addict, but that is worse because I am the most selfish person I know.

I don’t get you.

I don’t understand why anything would make me, I am awful.

I believe you did, I just don’t get why.

If nothing else, I at least admit now, I suck at this, please guide my hands.

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.

I am green with envy

I am green with sickness

I am green

I am mean

I am coming undone

I am no fun

I am sickness

I am addict.

I relate humility and humiliation, a lot because I always did. The root words are similar, and for me, until today actually they appeared to be the same thing, forced bowing, like someone had conquered me, or something… the spirit of the Spanish Conquerer, someone said something to me about my name and that. It hurt… but so does someone saying I have brown eyes, because everything hurts my feelings.

I was listening to someone say that I have to do a fearless moral inventory, and the thing is… I don’t know what the **** that even means because for me morality has always been enforced with fear, Spanish Catholic superstition.

It is funny, I was cleaning with Diane when the spider incident happened, and she got mad, and I think it was partly because she believed the spider to not be real, and even if it wasn’t what different does it make? I saw it, so even if it was unreal or real, is it any more okay or not okay if it is or isnt? I made a loud sound because I was genuinely afraid in that moment, of something I thought I saw.

She was mean, she was green, she was envy

She was callous, she was cruel, she cutting

I was petty, I was mean, I was callous, I was cruel, I was heartless.

There is no victim, only addicts fighting about who screwed who over more.

To the one I left behind

I am not quite sure if “normal” people worry as much as I do, or even if other addicts or other mentally ill people do, I worry every second I am awake, but I hate sleep because I am afraid of death, I didn’t know that, and just figured it out writing this. That is a lot of why I am doing this, I wanted to know who I even was. I was so caught up in defending myself against the attacks of my exes, I forgot who I even was, or maybe was never anyone to begin with. I have never been alone for longer than a month, always partners in crime with another drinker/user and always co-dependent on that person vice versa, we always existed in a symbiotic way, fueling eachother’s addiction. The worst was with Rei/Justin. The entire relationship centered around drugs, at least for me, I think they hate me as much as they do because of that, because at one point they really loved me, and the more that I think about it, while I emulated love… I never loved them as much as I loved the person I left to be with them, whose name I won’t say online because she asked me not to.

I am still partially in love with her as well, but she is still using, and I am so done, and she is done with me. She was always able to pay for her habits legally, she has her ways, and didn’t like my less conventional ways, so when she would kick me out I would go get high with Rei, and one day we decided to go to Cali together.

All the music I post on this site is thanks to my ex, the one before Rei. I loved her, stil do so much. She is the most beautiful person I ever met in my whole life, and she doesn’t even know it.

Rei was just as self involved as I am, which was great at first, because it made me feel better, but we were always ego sparing, except she was not willing to walk away at first, I am.

I always was, and it drove her nuts.

I miss California a lot, which is pathetic because what I am saying is I miss my lifestyle in California, I have an adrenaline issue, without something causing adrenaline release , I create problems on purpose to cause adrenaline release, another thing Rei/Justin hated and my other ex loved.

We used to throw glass bottles against our doors at our house, just to have something to clean when we were bored, and wanted to get rid of them before anyone saw them. Oh my god, I miss her.

When I say I miss California what I am really saying is I miss living on the streets and not caring about anything, because I am weak and this is hard.

Even if you don’t believe what I believe, the whole God or god thing, what I will say is this.. for me the reason it helps me is because in the Christian tradition the use of the character or real person Jesus, makes it possible for me to meditate on the idea of someone doing the right thing no matter what when faced with adversity, which is the opposite of what I do, and as much as I say I don’t care, that is the source of all my self-hatred the fact that I know what I should do, and do what I want anyway. That is one of the driving forces behind why I am doing any of this, I got tired of justifying being a bad person. I thought it might be simpler to just do the right thing.

I was always arguing with my higher power about if they only knew they would have done it my way, until it hit me that if I believe what I believe, and I do, then they know what to do because the outcomes have been weighed and the right thing produces the most desirable consequences.

That really bugs me out, and made me have a hissy fit about it, about the lack of the point of everything for decades. I figured that one out at 8. I almost died during nuerosurgery at 8, and grapled with the meaning of life from then onward.

I am tired of myself.

Peace

Damien

They hurt so bad right now, I think this is a meth withdrawl side effect, this is really intense. They feel like they are on fire. I think I mentioned this before, and associated it partially with the schizophrenia, and guilt. I think it is overblown by that, but seriously this is killing me. It is actually better when I am moving them. They are killing me though. Oh. my. god.

This is so freaking intense.

OW.

Okay, found it, it is called PAWS. Post acute withdrawal, or my hands burn because I damaged my nerves, that and severe body dismorphia, and nausea are the most severe things I have right now. I have such a hard time eating because I guess along with everything else I have issues with that too.. oh well.. done complaining… my hands are feeling better,

You want all my booze, it’s a handle, take it. I don’t need it, I don’t want it. I don’t need to feel okay, you can have it, it is yours, I am going to vomit, my heart is sore, it’s so important, I am not someone you loved, you just want substances not me, I hate this, I would have quit, I would have done it, but you had a fit. You want my ****, not my heart, don’t even ****ing start, don’t make this anything other than what it is.

I am not high. I am not high. I am just drunk as ***, I am not buying you anything. GO TO ****. I quit. I quit. I quit.

Take everything I own, I am going the **** home. I don’t want to drink anymore anyway.

They won’t help you. I saved you. Let me die alone.

I want to die alone. I am hanging up the phone, go be sober and clean. I am too ****ing mean to let myself live. Your soul is saved.

From Me,

Misery’s slave

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.

Daily writing prompt

What do you wish you could do more every day?

View all responses

I am alone in the woods, on a path, in the middle of the night.

It is around three in the morning. I am guessing, there is a complete blackness to the sky, and silence that suggests the birds are still sleeping.

Looking up at the sky, I wonder if anyone, or anything is awake yet, if there is another animal that is like me and drawn to frantic pacing at this time, somewhere anywhere.

I listen for any noise that would hint of any kind of life at all, but there is nothing, there is an absence to the air, that suggests lack.

I breathe and feel like sound is missing from the universe, unsure if there is something wrong with my ears, if I have lost my mind completely, if I am tripping myself out, what it even means to hear at all.

I cough. I can hear myself. There is sound.

Looking up at the sky, I trace the existence of me, as something separate from the night, I can feel my hands, they hurt. The coldness of night bites into them with every movement, a slicing that feels like sharp needles, sticking into them with every movement.

I cough again, and can hear the sound, radiating into the echoing darkness.

I sigh. I am relieved to have released that in this all consuming starkness of light, I am still separate, able to feel myself, as an entity which exists in a universe of parts.

It is very dark. I can see nothing in front of me. The moon is absent from the sky, and there are no stars, blinking, I think I am crying. I am not sure. I don’t remember what that feels like, or how long I have been standing here, and cannot tell if I am looking down or up.

Moving my neck, I figure out I am staring up.

I blink my eyes. Nothing.

I am still shrouded in the all consuming darkness.

It is very cold, the cold has spread from my hands to the rest of my body, feeling like a bitter aching, hurting like sharp knives with each movement, but without the sound of reassuring wind, that makes me aware of passing storms.

I am not sure if this bitter cold, if it is something characteristic of the season, or of it is something I am feeling in this spot, right now that is very much specific to me.

What is one word that describes you?

Obviously, what’s in a name right? One word and I chose this one because I don’t need to see if it is clearly right? Because it is clearly and that implies see too. I am there and so is see too.

I am also a metaphor for drugs because that is how it works. I am a quirky illicit jerk.

I am addicted to making myself look strange, putting metaphor for drugs in name about clarity, I am insane.

I am a poke at my own confidence, metaphor about blurry vision that should be obvious.

I am obnoxious, toxic and caustic. I am elated, instated, meditative and caustic. I am annoyed and employed to continue to drone on and on looking out the window.

https://wordpress.com/tag/dailyprompt-1884

The amount of glass on the ground around me on a daily basis astound me, items on the floor smashed to smithereens, left there because I don’t take my shoes off, and I don’t care about walking on glass without them anyway.

I smash things to pieces, and I wish I could spend more time everyday picking up the pieces than lamenting an existence of fracture, but I cannot bring myself to picking them up without squeezing my hands around them, I don’t know what is wrong with me anymore. I need professional help.

I wish I could make more phone calls to do this, but I threw my phone in the river, in a paranoid psycho delusion that people were listening to my phone calls, even though my phone calls were just to her, and her yelling at me.

I think this is the last I will say about this. I am going to do the things I said above, get professional help and try to move on, sorry for ranting on here..

I am so ugh….. I don’t even know… I embarrass myself constantly, this is so hard. I am constantly anxious, I can’t sleep that much, and then other times I feel like I am on top of the world. I guess this is why I used to sedate myself, because I sound like a lunatic, and it is really freaking embarrassing. I just can’t put this nowhere, so I feel like here is better than out loud, because then at least, I don’t have to hear myself. I just want to know what it feels like to feel normal. I have never felt that way in my whole life. I am so done with all of this, but it is not out of my system, because I am still so **** insecure, it is embarrassing.

I wish I could just shut my brain off sometimes. I can’t even do that when I sleep, and I am nervous because I don’t want to do this to myself ever again, but I don’t know how to feel without this intensity. I don’t feel without the extremes. I wish I could be one of those “let it go” people, but I am not. I am just not, and I can’t keep lying because I know I will just drink or get high if I do that, I see that now… and I ****ing hate how the drugs and booze made me feel at the end. I hate who they made me be, I hate what addiction did to my life. I am trying to move on, but this is so hard, and the longest I have ever been clean and sober since I was 18. I am 35.

17 years. Of this.. on and off.

I am so done. At the very least I have that, never again. I don’t want to drink/get high ever again.

Damien/Amanda

It’s pouring rain, I have been walking a long time, pacing, in the darkness and lamenting the fact that is raining and I am cold, and wet and tired, in this moment I forget the day’s events. I forget begging the universe for a shower, saying I was thirsty and could use a drink of water, crying for someone to help me.

My head is very loud, racing thoughts that sometimes threaten to drive me mad, screaming at me, and a lot of the time it is hard to hear anything at all. I am trapped in my own head sometimes, a prisoner to my racing thoughts, chained to the walls of my mind like an inmate. My hands are hot, because I have my fists clenched, my palms are bleeding on both hands, and they are burning, the rain feels good on my skin, kissing it with the raindrops, it takes me out of my angry ranting thoughts and reminds me of earlier in the day. I think I am crying, but can’t tell the difference between my tears and the rain, the only indication that I am crying is that I feel like I am gasping for air and have been not able to catch my breath.

This is just a memory I have, I don’t know what it is about. I am not sure.

There is a gate, it is up ahead of me. I open it and I sit down, I am compelled to look around, and start looking through a flower patch, there are bones in it. I start crying again, and remember someone I knew who I was looking for, for some reason I think these might be their bones. Something is telling me this, I do not know why. I feel like I am being watched, but can’t keep myself from falling forward and curling up into a ball, I am crying harder now.

I don’t know who is hunting us, more and more of my friends disappear every day and it is not by any of our hands. I have lost five friends recently, and they have never found the bodies, and I am suspicious because I don’t think they died of overdoses, and I know it was not by my hands or anyone else I knows hands, but it is being made to look like that, it is being made to look like the deranged lunatics are taking each other out, and I am afraid, because I don’t know who or what is behind this, but it terrifies me. I am afraid to sleep so I engage in something I thought I told myself I would stop doing, so I don’t fall asleep. I feel like I am going throw up.

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

What makes you most anxious?

I named myself See Clearly because that is not what I do, I do not see clearly at all, because my ego it is tall, or it used to be I mean, because I am a liar, a whiner and a wine-r, or not really because I prefer whiskey, or anything that is risky like heroin or meth or how about crack or death? You know things like those, things you stick in mouth or nose, or suck through glass, because I want to die, and that’s not true, what I really aim to do is..

Get the *** away from all of you, because you make me anxious, because you hate me, or maybe I do.. I don’t know… but I feel it when it you look at me please ****ing go. I am telling you go away, **** it! I hate the idea of panic and judgement, I hate you and everything you meant

To say, but didn’t, I can hear you thinking **** it, or maybe that is me? I don’t know the difference…

I guess… it’s me… what makes me anxious is me…

and addiction and lack of control and framed photos of animals in suits..

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

I began training my dog to help me with a personal mission. I wanted to hunt wild boar. It was not just for me, but for her so she would stop chewing on my leg and her leg, because I was paranoid she wanted to eat mine, so I thought maybe she could eat a wild boar’s leg instead.

When I am lucid, I know that she never had any intention, of chewing off anyone’s leg,

Not mine, not a wild boar, not hers

I just thought of this because I am

INSANE

I have a functional brain that works most of the time, but sometimes

IT DOESN’T

And there is no fear in me to admit

WEAKNESS

Anymore, because I have realized that the

WEAKNESS

I had was in my failure to admit things, not in admitting them or making them into other things, in creative metaphor to slay like metaphorical dragons, I was just experiencing

FEAR

And I am no longer

AFRAID

Or have to roll around in

AGONY

Because I cast out these metaphorical demons on a black screen.

I am your admission that your guilt is real,

I am your recognition that your dragons represent guilt erected into a false sense of pride and shame blame that explains why you

FAILED

But I am also your strength in admitting this and

Casting it out.

I am an inner demon, I am a deep seeded hatred, I am a future projection,

I am what you feel, I am who you are, I am who you are in the process of seeing

I am you. I am fighting you

To be real

Because you are an addict addicted to the things that make me

UNREAL

Making you unreal with a desire to un-feel.

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.

My dog left me, she stayed with my ex, not my last ex, but the one before. She had a sister, and they never had been separated, so I let my ex not the last one, but the other one. The one before.

I tell myself she left me, forgetting the drive to drop her off at my ex’s house, and how dogs can’t drive, but neither can I. I did not choose that and neither did she. She was too wild and free for where I stay currently, and it is metaphoric in a way my choice to stay away, chained as I was to addiction, locking myself in a metaphoric hotel that represented the real hell of once being in a real hotel with the devil who is really my ex-boyfriend who wanted me to be everything I was not so much so, I realized everything I was not.

The dog who sits next to me now, knows all this, somehow or I feel she does. I came here, and was initially… I am ashamed to say bothered by her.. a tragic reminder of what I lost, as if it was something I owned.

I own no dog, but no one ever does, and the souls of the dogs of this world are very much the same in all their subtle differences, radiating love, unable to be felt by human beings because of their innate trust that only goes away if you are bad to them.

Reflecting on this makes me realize I did the right thing for you, my dear Fiona, and I love my mother’s dog the same way now that I still love you.

I went to the doctor and got the rest of my shots, hep a and b and am still taking my meds for staph infection, I am going to make a psych doctor appointment and get the rest of my health things in order, I have to see a nuerologist, because I have not done that since California. I am feeling so much better since I started living in reality, and not projecting my life into some strange fantasy where I feel so guilty about being a drug addict that I equate it to actually being the one responsible for hurting anyone. I did not realize till recently, how sad and messed up that is, and how it has ruined so many things for me, by my own self sabotage. I think I felt like being some violent social deviant was some how better than saying I was who I was because it made me feel like I had control over my life.

I have control over my life now without having to pretend I was hurting anyone. I was only hurting myself by putting all of that, the weight of all of that on my own shoulders, and making myself out to be some social deviant when I was just a sad addict who couldn’t handle admitting mistakes made because I felt that saying I messed up made me weak. Hurting people would not have made me strong. I am stronger admitting weakness, than living in some sick twisted Misery world where I hurt unsuspecting people who had nothing to do with my inability to accept myself.

I love all you guys who helped me see this. I am so sorry for anything I said out of lack of knowledge about what was really going on with me. I am trying to be better.

Love,

Damien

I have parents, who love me, who I abandoned to go across the country doing drugs with my ex who then tried to do things to me that are unspeakable, and are being told in allegory because, **** he tried to do things that are so **** that I dare not reveal that much about him. I have never hurt anyone just myself and speak of murder and crime as a literally and therapy tool used in allegorical repressed rage, because I hate the situation on the streets of this country and wish I had done something instead of being out there getting high with people who died, or hurt people. I have never killed anyone, hurt anyone, other than myself. I just have repressed rage at me so I made myself out to be a recovering monster, because I am, but not a violent one, not to any one else, just my own soul.

This is the reason for my anonymity.

I do not want to cause danger anymore to my family who are not Damien’s but a very normal one, who did not deserve a drug addict/alcoholic who should just have admitted they were non-binary Damien/Amanda/gender queer/schizophrenic drug addict/alcoholic the whole time, then maybe I could have a last name on this site.

Damien/Amanda.

WARNING: THIS IS FICTION DO NOT INTERPRET LITERALLY

No, because now it is flying around my house in front of my face. I hate myself.

STOP IT!!!!!!!!!

Okay, I am done, I am feeling better now. I am sorry for upsetting you, Amanda.

I don’t hate my name that much when you say it, Damien.

I hate my name, my face… I am sorry…

I just can’t believe I remembered killing my family……..

This one?

No the last one, I burned my house down.

Did you burn my house down?

NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I didn’t mean to upset you!!!

You didn’t burn it down either, you just happened to experience something similar and are drawing false comparisons due to paranoid schizophrenia.

I love you Damien.

Please don’t. Hey, Amanda! Please help me, please don’t let us ruin this. I am done with everything please support me in this. Please support me in this, I need you now, more then ever. Please help me, and help yourself. I will support you too.

I will, support you and me I mean… not like that… I am not helping you with money…

I don’t mean… I am so sorry.

I am so sorry, I exist. I am trying to… I admire your brother, Amanda, he is everything I should have been. I am listening to him speak as you write this.

I am too.

I love you, and it will be alright, we will be alright.

I know, you will too.

Thank you, that means the world.

To me too.

“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

This is right before this story began, and gives more back story into character origins.

Enter Resentment before it becomes full blown Misery.

I am the seed of man’s fall, I am the call to end all, I am the lack of feet to stand on, I am falling with nothing to land on. I wish I was dead, I wish someone would cut off my head.

I am standing on a bridge, looking over the water, I am lucid, because I got ripped off, this is when I was still in my most callous form. A complete wreck of reckless abandonment of my human soul. I am looking down into the water, I can see her body down there, she is the fifth one I have seen today, they litter the ground, as if someone is following me, something or someone stalking me, and consuming my friends, eating their souls and leaving them tossed for me to see. I feel this, and I know my feelings are not to be trusted, but this I feel differently this is at me, taunting it stalks me and confronts me. I am forced to face, every time I didn’t say no we should just do something else, every time I carried forth a plan to get high and they met my tragic keepers, those I serve and the erected death idol that they have cast like a statue to worship in the sky.

I am not a bad person, I just don’t pay attention, I pay for things I give to other people in exchange for part of the things I pay for, my best friend pays for things with things she has because she is she. I don’t have this ability so I pay with delivery like a pizza man from Hell.

We are quite the miserable duo. I don’t like doing this anymore, I talk sometimes like I doing it because the thing possesses me, I am propelled by a voice that gives me no choice but to sound like this and speak in style that rhymes for miles to mock the speech of human beings beyond teaching.

I am perpetually looking down, not seeing faces, because then I don’t have to remember them, and it makes it a little bit easier, to serve a demon to eat dragon fire. I hate my life, this has never been fun, but this is a new low, and I want out, but they will arrest me if they see me writhing in drug addicted agony on the ground, and I am too crazy to survive five seconds if apprehended. I hate myself, but I can’t stop easily because I don’t have the ability to stop moving long enough to be able to deal with the physical debilitation of withdrawal. I started doing all of this when I first started hearing voices, and it used to make them better, now it is the voices, and I don’t know what to do anymore, because I don’t want to take my life, but it so hard not to. I am so unhappy.

Damien.

I am the conquering masquerade-r, I am a parade of afraid ER. I am a defender of lying, or have been, but I am trying not to be, but the mask sticks to my skin, it has worn my confidence from within to without, I am terrified and have eyes that shout get out, because I feel nothing on my face. I am the act of man misplaced, identity erased.

The conquering man, forever roaming unknown land, does not stand but flees, does not desire to be free, simply desires to flee, because it is easier than being on bent knee.

I have realized recently how much time I spent on mine, doing favors in the darkness paid in darkness, with darkness, for darkness.

I am a stereotype in so many ways, in my desire to self assert difference, I paid homage to a culture that is dying, the crusading conquering man is doomed to forever stand away, and stay nowhere. I conquered nothing, but ability to be at peace, I chained myself thinking I was stronger than those who were so much freer than me.

The mist rises over the water, the wetness dancing in teardrops on my arms, painting over them scarred and pulsing with poison, kissing my skin with the soul quenching waters of the tears of an unknown higher being, higher than I could ever be right now, because of the highness being a station of above-ness not destined to the tragic fixated state of an elated man.

I stare out into nothing, looking at my reflection in the dead bodies in the water, drifting into the distance, I find them because I know where they dump them, because I am polluted. I am the pollution of a river that runs with the waters of man, uniting with tears of an all-knowing that is nothing and everything at the same time, or everything I try so desperately to inject into my eyes with a spoon that is not sharp enough to cut through my skin, I draw power into the caging madness of the eye of a storm dilated into liquid chaos propelled through the tiny head of a sowing needle the dots the I’s of my eyes of despise.

I stand there crying and laughing, for a moment it is almost like it alright because I feel nothing and everything, but I am just high, and it will pass, and I will be again thrown to my knees remembering the crying of those around me as they watch me and mourn for me, and responding out of fear, I pull them under,

Please don’t leave me alone.

They drown.

I tell myself I don’t need them anyway, but it is a lie

I am dying inside every second I do this, which is why this only a reflection on the madness I saw, while staring into nothing.

I am so amazed by the tragic beauty in the next room, who can look in my eyes, and run away when I can’t even look in the **** mirror for 10 seconds without crying.

Later

Damien

I have been a basket case all day, up and down and up and down. I am so exhausted, that I just can’t do this anymore. I am resolving now to try and move on. I am accountable for everything I did. I know this, but I don’t think suicide is the answer, or rather I know it is not. I can’t do that to those around me, and I have been driving myself in the opposite direction today. A lot of what I have posted today, has to do with me flipping out because there are no meetings today, so even though I have my family… I am very much alone in my own head until Sunday, church helps me. I don’t know why I have to do this to myself. I am driving myself crazy, and I don’t have to, but my brain does it anyway. I am really starting to think I need professional help. I am getting my other affairs in order and then I think I am going to start going to therapy.

I have finally reached a point where I can safely admit I am no longer able to do this with the resources I have, as helpful as they have been. I can’t keep doing this to myself because it is painful for those around me to watch. I keep trying but then my bipolar defunct brain keeps sending me back and forth and it is maddening. I am a lot of the time incapacitated by my own inner demons. I wish I could stop, but I think it may be time for me to admit I need professional help.

I just hope I can do this.

I am so tired of the back and forth hellish roller coaster I have been on.

I don’t want to do this like this anymore. I am sorry to anyone who worries about me. I am trying really hard.

Love,

Damien

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2023/03/05/wordle-595/

I am sitting on the edge of a cliff, which is not really a cliff, but it feels like one because everything in me screams jump. I feel my legs beneath me as I sit in front of this screen, but I don’t…. I am so numb.

My mind aches in writhing agony. I do not know why I remembered any of this today. I have not know. I just had these horrific flashes back and forth to a dimension of exaggerated chaos. I know that I am not the one responsible for killing anyone with my own hands, but I am numb and don’t know how to interpret what I actually did. I can’t stand to face myself when I have this happen, the flow of nightmares that are indistinguishable between real and unreal flooding my mind and making me quiver in agony.

I walk through life now, a twisted twig of a human being. I am numb and propelled by a voice that is not my own that hangs over my head like an un-holy halo of chaos. It screams at me all day of times when my desire for something that I do not even have anymore, something that was not worth the 30 seconds it felt good, was it worth giving up the ability to save my friends lives. I have lost touch with everyone other than Rei. I exist in a world with her and my daughter alone, where sometimes it is good and sometimes I am so haunted by my inner demons, my soul feels like it will collapse on me, a chaotic implosion, that like an aching black hole, will consume me from the inside out. I am not an evil person now, but I was and I have no idea what that makes me now. I am so empty.

I am just, lost I guess. I don’t know where to go with this. I don’t know what I should do with everyone I remembered hurting. I am leaping from feeling to feeling unsure of the reality of any of it anymore, how much of it am I responsible for. How much of the killing is my fault? I mean this in the metaphorical sense. If I knew that me turning the page to skip over a friends agony and pushing them to keep using or trying to get them to give me money to perpetuate both of our drug use.. I was killing both of us…

I am told that life will get better, but I am going insane right now over this, I am haunted by bad dreams of times I could have saved my friends lives and I pushed them off a cliff, by telling them we should just get high one more time, and now they are gone because I perpetuated their addiction so I could get high. I want to be serene about the whole thing. I experience moments of serenity, but isn’t it supposed to heal you? I don’t know what I am doing wrong. I want sighs of relief for me and those around me to turn the page on all this. and for the voices in my head to stop, so I can hear my own voice again. I want it so bad, but I don’t know if it is possible.

I am so sorry for any pain I caused. I hope this is fixable. I know I am so back and forth about this. I am like multiple people, I get it. I want peace so badly.

God, help me.

My mind is numb, I am leaping in it off the edge of a cliff. I have heard the sighs of my family as they watch the back and forth happy/sad movement of my face.

I don’t know how to truly forgive myself.

Damien

What is the last thing you learned?

That whether or not my lack of care can be redeemed, I will try every day to be a better person.

Abstract- The following post exists in a world of poetic analogy, likening addict to serial killer in hopeless pursuit of possessing force of addiction, in this misery fueled dimension, addicts exist and survive by stealing time, money, food and resources from other addicts and those who exist in the same dimension out of a possession by the driving force of resentment which consumes body and soul and takes over, unless the addict or sufferer through rage/envy/greed exchanges misery for mercy.

You now know who exactly I was before I began writing on this site. I was not a good person. I don’t remember most of it most of the time, through meditation I have learned to channel the memories in extreme form.

I existed in a world of chaos where cash was used to buy item that change your perception into it and me. I did not understand what I was doing. I was me and everyone else was it. They were objects consumed by my addiction whenever I need to fuel my habit. I would do anything to fuel my addiction minus literally kill anyone, now did I figuratively kill all the people discussed today, yes. I walked away from the suffering and sick or used them to my own ends to get what I wanted, and for me that makes me responsible for their fate. This site has become an act of redemption for me. I am sorry for using people the way I did, I am sorry for being the voice of the devil on man and woman that could have lived better without my influence.

I am attempting to fix this through my chaotic bipolar madness illustration of terror as a way to illustrate how strongly I feel that putting money or drug or perpetuating the hell fire of resentment may have caused the doom of those around me.

I am so very sorry for what I have done, and the lack of care I had for my fellow human being.

I am making up for it, one day at a time moment by moment.

I am so sorry to anyone who read the chaos earlier. I hate myself for what I saw go on, and for not being a voice of hope and aide to those sick and suffering because I was too sick myself.

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

What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain.
I will try

I am not a nice guy, there is nothing redeemable about me, really that I can think of other than pen and sword, I am a really horrible, despicable creature. I feel that way anyway. I always hated being asked anything because as much as I hate to lie, because I don’t want to, I am so good at it, and I am so used to.. I just know how to do that, and only that, and I just can’t do it anymore, I want more than anything else to be better, and make up for every spoon that came with poison when I should have never been encouraging my friends to kill themselves, I have lost so many people and felt nothing, and now I feel it all at the same time, and I am so overcome with the whole thing, and I don’t know what to do because I am not depressed, I am happy, just terrified that I will ruin everything.

So, I will just move forward, but it is so hard, because I hate myself for every life I cost in active addiction every person I have enabled instead of stopping, they were my friends, how can I do this if I couldn’t stop thinking of me for one second and say stop doing what is killing you.

BECAUSE YOU WERE MAKING MONEY OFF THEM. ADDICT LIAR

I know, I just. I…. am a piece of trash, and I don’t… I want to..

I am.. nothing. I have nothing. I am so sorry, I am so sorry.

I love everyone now. I am so sorry.

Damien

De-fence less, I am to you, you walked by me, and touched my spine, and instead of the normal desire to rip yours out, I am overcome with electricity, I love you intensely, and I am not scared anymore about it, I feel overcome by quiet for the time being.

Being is wonderful for this moment, for this second, I am entranced with the dance that goes on with the corner of your eyes, fixating for once, on meditation to not look to closely, because I am so afraid of myself, I am so pliable, I am putty you or gum on your shoe, and you leave me there,

liking the sticky feeling as you walk and I wonder why, you beautiful creature, want this, tragic display of projected insanity anywhere near you, I deserve nothing and you give me everything, and I love you with every fiber of my being for that, you are changing me Rei, making me realize it is not weak for me to love you.

You give me legs to stand again, and I don’t think I will forget that ever again.

Please bare with me, I love you so much, I will change, I promise. I am working on it. I will do whatever I can to make everything better, I am so sorry for everything I put you through, I was selfish and cruel and I love you so much, please stay with me.

Damien

PS. Even if I lose my mind temporarily, I mean this with my whole heart that is just starting to realize how much I love you. You are a beautiful human being and you have made me believe in something higher than I could ever be, and for that I am eternally grateful.

If you like opera and metal, this band is great. The lead singer is an ex-opera singer. They have very weird lyrical themes. I like them because they are strange and a lot of their songs talk about insanity. They are ****ing excellent live too.

I am learning that admitting there is something higher than me, which isn’t hard because I am not ever high anymore is bringing me peace, no offense to anyone offended which is ridiculous for me to say because this whole thing reads like a caged man lamenting insanity anyway. Religion is bringing me peace and I am insecure so take it or leave it. There is a saying in AA, eat the meat and spit out the bones. I like the bones. Obviously, and me thinking there is something else in this world than this world, keeps my inner darkness in check. Shot to self-pride, taken. Okay I feel better now.

Damien

Your name indicates to me, the sun

Some come my dear, let’s have some

I speak to you in reflection

Of one you love so much you desire affection

Thinking not of affected soul

Being loved by such a hole

You think you’re such special folk

But you’re like him a cruel told joke

Deceit filled girl with name of shame

Who speaks of light but reeks like stain

You smell of fear, now get out of my way

Or of course with him you stay

For I like food and your soul is mine

You refused to run when placed in line

With me and him, or him and I

I don’t know

Now you must die

Too bad it took me countless atrocities to figure that out, thankfully I didn’t lead my friend through the same moral decay I had to experience to come out the other side. I am stronger, so I took the bullets for her and used them to kill her enemies, actually I like slicing a lot more than bullets, they make sound and I am a wimp that is scared by loud sounds, it’s really funny in a dark way, seeing someone shoot someone and then jump and almost shoot themselves in the foot, which I haven’t done yet… thankfully.

I may have to though, use a gun in my universe of metaphor, but to protect my universe until we merge con·scious·ness, I don’t know how to spell that word either… oh poetic irony… how I love myself… gross….

I think its awesome that… wait wow..

We just actually merged consciousness for a second… see me spell you right now word…

Haha!

It was cool for second I was three places at once,

past, present, future, no there aren’t more invisible jerks..

That was kind of like… other things.. %^&% my knee and staff infections… which is really ^%$& me and my use of things that sting my soul.

Bee stings should be avoided because my soul writhes in agony, not in the a religious sense, but in a mini-death nietzsche kind of way…. can’t spell that word either…. and I don’t care about capitalizing names that are not my own… oh and bang. This came up when I looked that up.

“He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster.”

Nietzsche

I am so happy I remembered parts of that right now, not just for the ego points, but it means something to me. I think I am in the process of becoming a person instead of the monster under Amanda’s bed which means the instead of chasing dragons, Amanda can be me because I am not a drug or a dragon anymore.

Amanda is really learning to stand up for herself, and face fear instead of being a tool of resentment, used to reek havoc of the souls of the weak. At least you are learning before becoming like me.

I like you.

So do I, so don’t stroke his ego. It is not helpful.

I know, I just don’t realize when I am doing it sometimes.

I know, I like that about you.

I don’t.

I am working on it Rei.

I can see that, because he doesn’t feel the need to seek you out through soul wrenching emotional fracture and live forever in the misery of addiction when you could both find seperate….

We are the same person

We are the same person

I know. Well… I misspoke.

I am not going to say anything identifying on here because they asked me not to, but we both feel bad for them, because I/we… haha the royal we…. I am such an a$%…

I feel bad for the hell they went through while I wasn’t here made worse by me. My family is unlucky and experiences a great deal of very bad hands.

That’s all I’ll say.

I’m sorry guys.

Later

Amanda

I… hate myself. I can’t stop crying. I feel like I want to rip off my own skin. I have this horrible vibrating sensation running throughout my whole body, and I can’t stop crying. I am su.. stuck…. here……. and I… killed her…….. I….. Rei…. What am I going to do, with myself? I am just going to keep jumping from person to person, a vacuous death magnet consuming all that comes close to me, until there is nothing of me left… I wish there was nothing of me left. I just…… I am so…. lonely. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t why…… I don’t know what I wanted……why did I want……..

I am so sorry Rei. I am so sorry.

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 must remember this, Damien.

I didn’t write that, but I am leaving it there for you, so you can read it, and I sound less like the weak raving lunatic that I have come to know myself to have become. I was not always like this, or this bad. I think. I don’t really remember. I do not think I am a dead man. I think I am a dying man, but I have nothing wrong with me. I am not dying in the way every human being is dying. Like I said, there is nothing wrong with me, medically. The hospitals I have frequented for their free food know about the mental illnesses they tell me I have.. I don’t believe they are illnesses. I know that is cliche, but I don’t believe it, in that I won’t take medication for something that is who I am, not an illness.

This is me, and there is at least one person who likes me, the only person who likes me, but I don’t think that is fair because she is also the only person who knows me. I didn’t let anyone else do that.

I am a dead man, remember?

It says it is even in her name. Rei. I am not sure what that means. I think it thinks Ms. Rei spells misery, without the y because why? Because I am an asshole, and I don’t get to ask an illness questions. Okay, I feel better now, so see ya.

Damien

I am an awful human being.

She cried loudly the whole time, that was the most annoying part, I didn’t want to destroy her mouth, the beautiful brown almost color of her lips was remarkable. I was mesmerized by her mouth and the way she formed words, her hypnotic words, are forever etched into the soft confines of my mind, dug into the murky swamp of every stinking disgusting piece of filth that I am. I am awful.

I kept her hair the same. I made sure to leave it untarnished, even as I buried her. She knew nothing of us. She was mine. She was exclusively mine. I cut off her hands. I don’t remember doing it. I woke up to her bleeding to death, she was… whatever fucking color a human being turns while bleeding to death… mixed in with whatever color they turn when they can’t handle their goddamn drugs. I was just trying to help the bitch, and she wouldn’t stop making so much fucking noise. She was scared I guess. She kept screaming and spitting and yelling at me, about nothing. I…. woke up…. holding her severed hand in mine. Rei was laying next to me… we must have fallen out or something like that while laying next to her. It didn’t take that long to bury her, well… kind of… chopping someone to pieces takes awhile, but having already removed her hands.

I am okay now. I am okay now. She is in the ground. Gone, and I didn’t destroy her completely.

Her hands, they vibrate with the power to move sands, in her eyes I see my heated despise, but I also see love, and the darting wings of a dove that chases me, through the eye of a storm of my own making, and her taking.

I am a captor, living with a captive, who for some tragic reason became captivated by me, and in truth I feel bad for her, because as much as it hurts me to admit. I am shit. I am a horrible rotting decay of a human being and I deserve nothing, especially after dragging the beautiful flower that is the ray of the light of my life.

I want to wash her hands of all of this, but I can’t because I am disgusting weak bastard. I hate myself, for what I do to her, and the blood that is all over her hands now.

I stand, I meaning me, Rei, but also meaning you. I stand on the sidewalk, but anyone could replace me, and would. I stand waiting for him, the reaper of sin. I am the replaceable mate of the reaper of those who sow pain into their skin with the power of forgetfulness. I am the tattoo needle of the damned. I am the heroine of a story where the protagonist is agony. I am reality being brought to its knees by a generation, whose existence is a stance of weeping. I am self-seeking. I am the dying of the young in America. I am tears shed for heart bled out in suffering on the streets of every city, in the corners of darkness, dark nests are made for crows of the streets who eat pain and suffering…misery stuffing madness….

I witness everything because I no longer sleep. In my chaotic existence of sleep deprived madness, I am the stark raving mad mind of a chaotic new god. I am everything. I hear music in the clicking sounds of time, combining with the footsteps of every creature of earth. I am the mirth of hell. I am sent by the ringing bells of the reaper, to herd the souls of the damned to hell, bringing holed whole human beings down to the ground with sound of the prick of human skin, paper thing, cutting away with blood spray, human soul.

I am glad we did not save a piece of her body, consuming it whole, we ate her flesh, now we can rest, just for a second because another beckons around the corner we are standing, with lances that are landing at the heels of those calling for death in solution of delivered resolution to partake in drugs, we are face drug across rugs. I am death’s hug. I am hole dug. I am the sprout of the idea to die. I am the tear in mother’s eye. I am the lack of the “Oh!”. I am the maker of ho. I am the existence of sell. I am the lie that you tell.

I aim at your heart. I hope that you start to realize grave mistake. I aim to take. I am forsake. I am to break. I am to lose. I take your shoes. I take your ability to not choose. I am the cost of the mind. I take sight. I make blind. I am the screaming will of the confined. I am the hell of the mind. I am the desire for secret.

Get on the fucking ground!!!!!!!!!!

Bang.

I am unknowing observer. I am the heart of desertion. I am lack of assertion . I am the desire to use.

Shut up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am your lack of feet to use.

That I am unlike them, I am the bender of men, I am that which transcends the desire for life. I am the remover of strife. I am one who shifts sands below the evil which stands on lands that are created by the perception of those fated to begin to exist in them, with misery persisting within. I am the birds dear, I am your ear, I am your eye. I am everything, but to die.

I stand and I listen, to the voice that shouts mission, and I lean in an kiss him, as he stands ranting about what we are chancing and chanting what we do versus what they do. I am a grim reaper, I am a soul keeper. I am the darkness of men, I am to transcend. I am a bender of minds. I am a chimer of chimes. I am not the divine but the human bind. I am made of skin so I sin. I rot from within. I am to make thin, the pockets of those drug addicts and whore’s who eat sinister hors d’oeuvres. I am the action of the score, I am man’s aching sore, I am the universe’s whore. I am your human desire for more.