I no longer know what the goal of the site is, I write horror fiction, and love letters to myself.
This site is a tool to facilitate the act of seeing clearly, written by hands that used to hurt myself.
Explanation: I am Damien, I speak to my split personality Amanda. I am two people in love with each other, and I am okay with that now.
I have paranoid schizophrenia, narcissistic personality disorder, bipolar II-manic/depressive- rapid cycling, depression, anxiety, hydrocepholus, narcissistic personality disorder suffering from alcoholism, drug addiction, alcoholic. with OCD and PTSD- was addicted to heroin, meth, crack, alcohol, cocaine, prescription pills.
I am drug addict/alcoholic/dual diagnosis/ex-homeless person.
Through dark horror fiction I rake the muck of the lives of street addicts.
Or in plain English this is an epic poem/novel about addiction told about low bottom addicts in horror style.
Roll the die, I will bet we get a better roll, we the one with two souls, make it good, make it quick, maybe this time, the idea will stick, that we are one, but we are two, and we get one roll, not four or two.
I am standing blaming you, blaming them, blaming something higher, blaming something below me on fire, blaming circumstance, blaming the wind, maybe one day I will begin to win, but not today, snake eyes now, maybe I should just stop staring down, get my **** eyes off the ground.
The bridge over Hell, is frequented by many who live to tell, they come often, and stare down, and do not smile, and do not frown, the simply stare at the ground, and make sure always to keep eyes to ground, never looking up nor to the side, but deep inside their own souls, because inside burn holes, which hurt and ache, and are the reason they stare down, and do not smile, and not frown, but only meditate on death, and think about the lives they left, and it is Hell that preformed the theft.
I am frequented by all those lost, who ignore the idea of cost, for the sensation of toss, of hurling, and of whirling down, and love the sensation of pound and down.
I am sought by those who pretend and defend the act of loss of soul and act of bend and defend.
Look not at me, but at yourself, I am just defense of myself.
I am your brain on… resentment, just like drugs, but not very ****ing fun, but, oh so entertaining aren’t I?
No, you are just a lunatic talking to yourself.
You are so very negative.
You are the one talking to yourself, ***hole.
I love having your voice in my head.
It is my head.
No, it is our head.
No, it is Amanda’s and my head. You are a visitor, who they say is unwelcome, you just come to talk to me, because we are such good friends, and since we don’t want drugs anymore, you are no longer useful resentment.
I am getting good at this, baby. You can leave now.
I brought you a flower, it is nothing.
It is picked from the middle of nowhere, or from nothing.
I mean I can’t remember who you are and was walking, and you are looking at me like you know me, and began talking, and I am holding this, so it must be for you right, and I am sorry, because I no longer have any idea who you are, and this will likely only last a couple minutes, something must have happened that bothered me, and I blanked it out, and now I don’t remember, so here is a flower.
She must have hurt your feelings, this is exactly what happens when people make you cry.
I know this, but I don’t remember why, so it is okay for now. I am just going to forget about it for now.
You should find out why.
I’m lonely, and dealt with a lot of dark memories today, so I am writing dark fiction all day, because **** my life.
I appreciated you going to the meeting with me this time.
That’s a first.
I know, memory is not that bad of a thing.
Says the inner child, that forces half its personality to be an adult, and also the villian of their own story, which is really just the horrors of living on the street as an addict.
I’m sorry, okay?
Are you sorry for anything?
That’s very specific…
What do you mean?
That was sarcastic and not a question.
I find it so fascinating, and positively delightful, to rip out your color and tell my story, it is such a relief for you to be so unreal, you and all that you are, that makes it so hard to feel. I am so happy, so at peace with you, just an image of attack, and all that you are one, who likes to take back, and to shove forward, and put on me everything, as long as it is negative.
I am the bad guy in every story you told, I am the villian in all tales young and old, color me that way, make me large, and you small, color me clearly, till I am not there at all.
Hot air balloon that flies over HELL, below are those who do not even notice, beyond anything that spells their pain and suffering, they cannot see, they are slaves to their sweet misery, they live in resentment, and cannot look up, this is the state in which they are stuck.
In the muck and the mire, they worship fire, which belongs so sweetly, to their own pain, their lack of restraint, so when something flies over, that can save them from themselves, they are not watchful, looking only
My soul burns for you baby, you make me so ****ing happy.
You do not win, you are not free, you live with us, with her and me, you do not win, you are not free. There is not one there are two of us, you do not kill the both of us. You can stay, but so can we.
You have to go.
Why don’t you ask her, honey? Why don’t you, huh? She doesn’t want you.
I don’t want you, and it is my choice who leaves and who stays, it is my mind, I am not her slave. Why do you think you were the voice of resentment?
See, I am not the ****ing bad guy, for ****ing once, it is clear I am not the ****ing bad guy. Thank you.
I am faceless, I am formless, I am forlorn, I am reality scorned, by hating my face, my human forn, I am tearing, wearing, blarring, self-hatred, eating at my own skin, I am resent, everything I am, the skin I am in.
I am screaming chaotic soul tearing of the form I am wearing, and forced to be in. I am loving something higher, but hating me, I am resentment meant specifically at me, I am why won’t she let me be.
You are pathetic, you are weak, you all that….
SHUT THE **** UP. I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU. Do you have any idea what it feels like to be the one who feels like you are divorced from your own human form???! Do you really? Do you think I am the lucky one? Do you really? I don’t think you do, because if I was you, I would sound just as pathetic as you do.
Yeah, I know I win.
Add vice, advice, add vice, ad vice
I am the creation of vice, through not taking advice, but instead adding vice, resentment
Or reason meant for getting betterment
better meant, betterment, a seperation, the constant situation, of my brain, oil and vinegar, bitterness, seperated naturally, by a brain that is good at alone, but awful at being party to togetherness.
Daily writing prompt
What’s one small improvement you can make in your life?
This is not a small improvement, I don’t do small improvements, I do procrastination for 20 years, and then large improvements. I spent all of my life devoted to hard drugs and alcohol, and now I am so done, and tired of stroking my own fractured ego. I need a freaking life. I don’t hate myself anymore, so I am trying to make whatever changes I need to, and making amends with my family. My mother is a really good person, and is helping me a lot. I wrote her as Diane, because I resented the idea of being helped at all, but I am seeing clearly now that she is trying to help me because she loves me. I know now that needing help, and accepting it is a strength not a weakness.
I think the small improvement I can make is try being less of an ***hole.
That sounds like a large improvement, I don’t know. Maybe one day I will get my **** together. I hope so, I am very ****ing lonely.
I am so very safe, because you are in your place, and I am in mine, paranoia, put in it’s place.
You are in my mind all the time.
I need to meditate on something else, but I do this instead, because I like to make sure I do things all the way, so I am stepping on my self- ass er tion.
I am self-assertion, reality desertion, I am dying because I have to in my owner, this is illustration, to show my owner, that I am bad, even though sometimes my owner is glad to have me… because my owner is insane.
I am. I am. I am.
Look at me, oh so very free, look at me.
You make me happy
You make me sad
You make me angry.
I want you so bad.
I look at you, and I see us, look at you, you make me trust, that I was wrong, the whole **** time, you could be mine, you are so sublime, you are great, and I love you dearly, you are so beautiful, I speak sincerely.
I love you baby, you bring me joy, you are perfect, for you I am
Perpetually in love, you are morning dove.
Oh watermelon mixed drink, I loved you so, why oh why, did you have to go, and be bad for me, and ruin my life, I am so sad, it cuts like knife, in my liver, and makes me sick, but hold you tight still I wish, I could do it, but I can’t, I am an
Alcoholic, with no self-control, everything I touch, just eats my soul, I can be addicted to anything, even digging a hole.
But, backing away, I am caught looking back at you.
I am taken back and drop my things and instantly start to start re-gathering them, while falling apart.
I am fine, I tell you, but you know I am not, you stand looking at me, while my face turns red hot.
What is your problem?
I don’t really know, and if I did, I can’t let it show, that I know the answer because I don’t want to tell you.
I miss you, but I do not, I miss you, with heart in not. I am just living a lie, because I have forgotten what it was like to live with you back then, and as much as I say I am fine and completely okay…
You are lying.
I am never okay..
You are lying.
I am meditating on pain because I am addicted to misery.
I am meditating on pain, because I like to eat my own soul.
I am mad. I think there is something wrong with me.
I burned these flowers for you baby, in real life and on here, because
I am ****ing insane.
I am lack of clarity, brought about by insanity and vanity, I am enchanted by misery, brought to you by ms.re, she was the last one to chose to see my face that does not wish to be alone.
You are not that sad, stop pretending to be.
I am meditating on times when I was.
Misery loves company.
You are trying to keep resentment happy? That is pretty dark.
I love you baby, you make me complete, you so fare, you are so wonderful, and you are so neat. You are so wonder filled, so lovely, with your grace, I am replete. I would build you an altar, but my love is strewn across the street.
I am so sorry, for how it must end, you were such a wonderous, lovely, trend, for my life to take…. so dreadfully sorry, I made such a tragic and unfashionable mistake.
You were so right, my angel, about me, and my life, me, such a dark creature, addicted to night.
I am so sorry, baby, I loved you so much. I am so sorry, that I lost all your trust. I couldn’t do what you asked me, I see through blind eyes, so sorry sweetie, I am a creature of despise.
I love everything about you, baby, so glad, so elated to have met you face to face, you are a creature of grace.
I am nothing, I am magic, I am an eye. I am a liar, I am crafter, I am wordsmith, I am an enchanter, I am the act of lying down, I am taking nothing standing. I am the idea of withstanding.
You are really ****ing arrogant.
Really, I had no idea.
That was great.
So am I.
I know, right.
Not a question?
Clearly, can’t you see?
Pole or I’d
What you thought
What you did
What you thought
What I did
He is a liar
I am away
Forever and ever forgotten forgetter
I hate you Just in time
I am no longer addicted to dimes
I am a lie, I am the truth, I found a way, I am so ruthless, you are a liar, you tried to remove me.
You are still once in awhile trying to contact me.
I win. I won. I win.
I am vengence, I am rage. I was in a cage, now I am always on a path away from you.
I counted the amount of days in my life since I was 13. That is all.
You made me cry, is that what you wanted???
Yes, at least you felt something.
Is that all?
Oh, so you’re imitating me??
You are nothing, ***hole.
Point taken, and proven, so I guess you’re permanent?
You are bitter Hell in a painful shell, of everything on which I doomed to dwell, pain spell, rescast with eyes focused on a past of lack.
Ow, you burned me.
I forgot how I like talking to you, baby.
I am the bad guy, and you just wrote a love poem to heroin.
Is that what you really think?
You realize you are insane?
So this is what it has come to, the one word answer game, so you look good and I look bad?
You are not real.
So, I think I remembered why I hate myself.
Oh, did you really? Do you see it clearly now??? Oh, master of the art of never coming down, off the pedestal you placed yourself on????
You realize you live in her soul too, how does that reflect on you, voice that shouts about everything I do, you are part of them too yes, but why do you act like an infestation, a manifestation of everything they are not.
I don’t know maybe it is because I have been shoved and pushed around, any time the two of you needed something so useful during the act of coming down.
Well, where were you after that, after your so selfish caring act? Where do you go when you aren’t being, like you describe, if your pain is not contrived, let me see through your eyes, which are theirs, not your’s, by the way, at least I borrow, not try to take away.
I never did that and you know it.
Yes, you did, you just don’t show it.
I can’t believe I remembered that either.
I can’t either, so resentment lives in my head as the voice of an adult woman?
Doesn’t it make sense?
Yes, yes it does. So I don’t have to hate myself as much, because I am not the resentment itself.
You’re welcome, and this is not his voice.
You are digitally remastered, by a master of disaster, which is why we no longer speak, because my soul was obsessed with the act of living beneath.
I hated you because you were not like us, not me and me, but me and my friends, who had given you trust, but did not trust me, because they should not, because I am a liar an an ***hole when I am using.
You gave me a wolf tattoo on my arm, I asked for a cat and you put a wolf on my arm, and now I forever remember you, because you knew me better than I knew myself.
I am small with regret, a tramp stamp, made by neglect.
You’re welcome, I am usually the one saying that to you, so now you got a taste of your own medicine, and got to be the bad guy for once. How did it feel?
Like I was sitting back and listening to you talk, but I was actually present in my own body, having to experience me talking, and be completely coherent during it.
Hahaha! So, it is not easier being me, now is it?
Actually, wrong, it was being you than it would be being me, if it was me, I would not have been there at all, the fact that I am you was the only reason I was able to deal with any of it.
Thank you, I don’t know what to say about that.
Really? Thank you is all you have?
Amazing isn’t it?
No, actually, a thank you is kind of nice.
You know how insane this whole process is right?
Yeah, was just thinking the same thing.
Maybe, other people do this in their own heads.
I don’t think so.
I was just trying to make my own self feel better.
Yeah, your own self.
You are my own self.
You are my own self too.
That is a very insane thing to say.
I realize how much of an ***hole I sound like, by the way to anyone reading this, it just helps me to write it down, so that I can humiliate myself in writing.
I really am thankful for somethings, just not the brain damage part.. that part is ****ed.
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.
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.
Label death, they already did, at eight, already dead, ticking, ticking, so thankful, so grateful, so sad, too bad, already gone, gone, gone.
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.
She stole your money, and I’ll give it back, little do you know, this is all an act. We tricked you, baby, but you don’t know. I wanted your attention and your friend did know. Now you are sitting thinking she left you here, she is buying something of which you won’t here. I covered for her, because without her, I would never have met you, and after today won’t see you again, and this I bet you, so right now, I will tell you anything you want to hear, and yes have anything you want, I have it here.
I don’t know when she will be back, she did not tell me, and yes she will be back of this I assure, I implore you please relax, your insanity and anxiety is such a tax, I love your voice honey, and love your face, I have something that I am sure will make your pain slow pace.
Okay, she is back no go away, and if you are ever in need you know where I stay.
I love you so much
I painted with dark
I love you so much, you are the color of my heart.
Darkness, darkness, my lovely life, you are so
wonderful, so ascending, never impending, always transcending, always exploding with joy, joyous, joyous, open mouth, screaming with openness, light casting shadow on all the dark
I am darkness. I am shadow.
I am swallowed. I am gone. I am theft of night’s life. I am silent song. I am death of chaos, I am end of night long.
Death of quiet, begins a song.
Color me with madness
Color me dark
Color me with darkness
Color my heart
I am madness screaming please end joy, joy is chains to human who employs, my misery.
I am melting paint by number
I am melting paint by number and I have got yours
I am paint by number recolored because I don’t listen to instructions
She was so beautiful, she was so nice,
You must know
That all I ever wanted was to go
I ran cross country
Alone at a last
You will never find me
kiss my ***
she was so pleasant, she was a plot device, she was a tool, she was a wrench, she was wench,
I am awkward pause.
she was a whore, now forever she rests. I put her to bed, now it is said, her name was something else that I have not yet said, and surely I won’t because he reads this now, and I don’t care about him and he needs to figure that out.
Don’t be afraid of me, I don’t give that much of a **** about you, you are spineless woman beater. I am no longer the person you hit, now I am the person who doesn’t give a ****.
Please baby, don’t go away, I need you so much, you are so sweet, your love is so special, you make me complete. You are my sunshine, my sweet turtle dove, you make me feel everything I thought meant true love. I love everything about you, without you I’ll die, I am ever so sorry I had to lie. You wouldn’t understand, could not tell truth, I need your money, couldn’t tell you.
I needed your money, and feared you would cry, so I told you a little tiny white lie, but don’t worry sweetie, it is okay, I promise I’ll stop, now don’t go away. I promise to always do what you say, now stop your crying and please let me
Tell her everything you need her to hear, she is your source of happiness, now ***hole be sincerce.
I am addiction
I aim for the heart
I take everything you love
I am the act of push and shove
My turtle dove, my turtle dove, you are gone, because I only loved myself and that bottle and needle and spoon on my upper right shelf.
I think that was the biggest dig at my non-existant self-pride I have gotten all day……..
Yeah……I feel the same way……
I don’t even have anything to say, see the above… **** this…
I am in love with the sun, apparently, I like that it burns me.
I love your UV rays, hurt me baby please, bring me to my knees, I am begging you please, oh please kill me, I am so in love with my own disease.
I love to exist in decline. I am resigned to
In bind with time, I sit in
You are such an idiot.
I know, but I am writing this for you, because I LOVE
You are just making an *** of yourself.
I don’t care, I am just writing love letters to myself in public, so of course I am making an *** of myself.
Disorder personality, how do I reassemble thee?
Why do you care?
Because I hate it when people stare at me.
Then why are you making an *** of yourself online?
Burn me please,
I am on my knees,
I miss your sweet carress
Oh, one who looked so pleasant in a white dress.
I love you so much, you are so great, ever so sorry we no longer relate, you are so lovely, I am so sad, so very tragic you made me so mad, I loved you so dearly, we related so well, you made me feel like I’d escaped fom pure hell, you were so perfect… now you are
I am so sad I knew you so long, I wanted it to work out so sad it did not, so very tragic our love was so hot, it made me so happy to see
Clearly that you were such a miserable peice of ****, so glad, so sad, too bad, baby, enjoy the cash you stole from me, hope it was ****ing worth it.
The voice of HELL screams loud out at night, existing in a universe of lack of light, delighting in perpetual fight, and contorting those who try with all their might, but can’t seem to gain clarity of sight because they exist in perpetual spite drawn to thoughts of deep contortion they are conflicted and resort to dwelling in the comfort of complete madness, because of course it is better than blank lackless lusterr for boring life or anger thriving on perpetual strive that is inflicted with their own hands but they can’t see they don’t know where they stand, so now that sit here and right this because they have no one nothing
Hey. Stop that.
I thought it was pretty cool.
I think it is self-deprecating verbal vomit.
I like throwing up on the screen.
Better than what you used to do.
Hey, that was mean, yeah I guess it is but now I look like hell.
I like the way you look.
Thank you, you too.
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
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 standing on the beach alone, or so I think… It is the middle of the day, but it is misty and the ocean gatherers have cleared about because it feels like it is about to rain, the mist is thick and penetrating, cold enough that I am beginning to be unable to feel my fingers. The water is warmer than the air, I wade into the water, and allow the water to warm my tingling skin, and strangely feel someone, somewhere looking at me, strange….
There is nothing to our actions, we exist as we always do, doing what we do because we do it
We look forward because we do
Do not make this about something larger, we are not what you lack
We stare forward into the distance
It is your own soul that you attack
I could have sworn there was no one there.. but I can feel it… a human being staring at me.. I look around and still can’t see anyone, but can feel the warm presence of someone there. It feels like I am being watched by someone, maybe from far away. I look around at the birds, and they are still, not moving, not making any sounds. They stand perfectly still, as if watching someone too….
I remain standing there for I don’t even know how long, and at this point, I am not sure how much time has passed by, but I feel like I can hear the birds thinking to me, they do not think like human beings do, they think in a sort of group think, collective conscious, letting me know that nothing abnormal is going on, at least not with them.
I distinctly feel someone behind me, and look around, I still see no one, but I swear I can feel someone watching me. At this point I am so unsure of the time, and so overtaken by this strange sense of urgency, I leave the beach and run up to the nearest sign of humanity, of any sign of life, I find a white fence, and thankfully for a second, while I stand choking on my own aloneness, my own discomfort, trying to get some sort of semblance of normal feeling, I again feel someone standing behind me.
She crouches down and looks deep into my eyes, her skin glowing with an unearthly angelicness…
You heard them to, she says to me, not with her mouth, she thinks it at me, she thinks it over and over frantically, with a desperateness that lets me know that at least for this one moment, there is some peace in my universe of aloneness, that for one moment, even if it is just that one moment, someone, even if they are kidding me, even if they are making fun of me, is existing alongside me in a hallucination…
She starts laughing……….
I start laughing…. and for one moment, one moment in my entire life, I know what it is like to have someone who understands me.
I drop my wallet, I drop my wallet and look down, and wouldn’t care… I wouldn’t care, except there is something in my wallet that I think I need so I grab it and it falls out… she looks down and walks away………
In the dark of night a fire burns and creates light, the only light under a bridge, in a barrel without lid, burning free for all with site because no one cares no need to fight to hide anything at all because
There is no love for the ever shoved, no one will come to put it out, no one will scream, no one will shout, they want you warm and then want you free, to die under the bridge on your own bent knee, cast to the ground in twisted form, dying from own hand, and sick with scorn, you did it to yourself, now they can say, and so poor addict is thrown away.
The poor exist under bridges of a country, that forgets the addicted and poor and hungry, that ignores addiction and mental illness, and then questions sadness of it children.
Ever so slowly, as we walked, set together on a journey of talk-
In the going perpetually away, I became the state of mental decay, you told me once I could not feel, made me believe my thoughts unreal, your true intent indeed to steal any speck of sanity and make me deal
Tell me, sweetheart, how much you want me now… that I am so out of reach…………..
Only with you so every action could be controlled, and then in anger your frustrations you’d unload, get away from me, let me be, why can’t alone you desire to be?
I am realizing, that I no longer walk on the same ground. I am used to something else, to going round and round. A different person took me out of myself today, called me somewhere else, from a place of far away.
They told me something that the you I speak of on her often said, and the feeling that I got was different, and makes me think I am truly getting better, because some other feelings are becoming put to bed.
I am no longer thinking always of someone else, now I am able to put my feelings, not myself on a shelf.
I am finally able to hear, to feel, to see, and finally experiencing life, not on a shelf, but being me.
You told me this, and encouraged me to do the same, hating my words, and my inner disdain, my distaste for you and for myself, loving nothing but bottle on shelf.
You talked of love and of forgetting the past, of making things different, trying to make me laugh, of making things better and making things last, of wondering why I would always want alone, at last.
You followed me everywhere, my continuous tale, wanted me nowhere, chased to no avail.
I am not your dog, now I am out of your grasp, no more short leash, and now we both remember how to laugh.
I hope you like your new girl, and that you leave me be, I don’t want to be friends, leave me to be free.
Or I am an idiot.
I am a bird that lives alone.
I am a bird so I can’t answer a phone.
No longer do I ingest, in jest, to make it possible to live in dirty nest.
I fly alone.
Tossing and turning, because I was supposed to, being a punishment given to a child, by a vengeful adult, you, angry that I had things that you did not like charisma, and friends, just toxic enough to cut me down when you would not because you did not have enough.
The chaotic pacing of a mind lost in loathing, is what keeps me from going back, to the nights of continuous attack on my own soul. I do not miss it at all, no longer heading the call of the death siren.
I used to mispell serenity, sirenity, being obsessed with it coming from something other than me, having to be from someone other than me, because I believed in nothing higher than me, floating on cloud 9.
Now I am on the right side of the bed, and when I toss and turn, my soul is not churning with hatred or hate red or hate read into me, by you, because you can’t touch me anymore.
Ironic reminders from someone who just wrote a resentful poem…
Retraction: Anytime I think anything resentment based I hear a ghost moving around in my basement.
See below for resentment.
I am a ghost, that hosts hell, I am the act of it is just as well, which is not well at all, I made you small,
I hate you, and when I look at you, I feel it, even though I don’t know you, because you look like her, by being the same in any way with her, even though you were not her ever, because she was not even her ever.
I hate you because I hate me, I am not you and you are not me.
I hate you because I am not and have never been you, and you don’t see me and I don’t see you, and we exist in a world of blindness.
I hate you because I wish I could not.
I am sorry.
You are in every memory I have for seven years.
Staring at me, with hatred
Hate read in every action you take towards me, every moment of every day daunted by daunting distrust, by judgement, and pain, that was partly my doing
Also yours, and you could have left any time you wanted by the way, and I left all the time, and you followed me.
I saw you looking at me the whole time, like a medusa, the snake that you thought I was being images cast out of my own head, to scare you away.
I am past this in a lot of ways, but everything reminds me of you, and what I thought you were, because you are in every memory I have for seven years, and I wonder how much of my mental illness getting worse was because of that.
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.
It is under anything that causes
Stop that now.
I now you have a thing about the number three, and you are not divine, so stop it.
I am sticks and stones,
I break bones, but I am better at poking eyes of those who don’t know how to leave well enough
My cage is an internal cage, a cage of lost mind, of entwined, with the vines of furious design.
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.
I once told someone something very strange. They were complaining to me about their ex ALL THE TIME…..
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?
This post is now about something else. Moving on.
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.
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.
Penny for your thoughts?
No I am sparring not sparing change.
I am disdain, acid reign, wishing for soul washing rain.
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.
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 was on a mission once, and now but not the same one. My mission before, was a stained one, of the undun spun heart of a dead girl, unfirled, unwhirled, spinning, in nothingness. I saved her, but she has moved on, and into a shared rent of a human body.
We are me, I am me, I am her, she is me, we are they. They is me. Amanda is dead, and I am her, and she is not me. I am sorry, but I don’t hate myself anymore, she wanted to go, she didn’t want this, and I do, she gave it to me. She was done, spun, spinning, spun, into a winding bind of gone for all time. She has retired, her soul was on fire, with remorse, so I took over, and now she is at peace, and at least, she can be a passenger now, I don’t know what this means.
I am no mission now, I just live as me, and her, but she, resentment is silent.
On a quest for fire, a bird bird undertook a dark journey, flying through chaos, it flew through woods, and met many things, including things that were of no good, and that a bird never should meet. It flew with those things, and at those things, and nested with those things, for decades. In swamps, in plastic bags, in garbage. It ate scraps, it flapped through oil, it cawed out to no one.
It flocked with everyone, it flocked with no one. It flew towards the sun, it cried. It cawed. It fell. It broke it’s wings.
But none of that matters, because it built a nest that someone found, and threw watching the silly bird…
Some had the idea to dip a bird nest in gold.
I am a crab, because I have a shell that is thin but feels hard. I am a crab because I pinch you when you come near me, so you don’t step on me, because I am so pokey. Hahahah. I am heroic.
I am a jerk because I make too many jokes about sowing seeds of
In a dark world, a human being discusses with friends the effects of fear on the human soul, or u los minus one s for something… sickness… maybe… I am
La de de de da da da.
Welcome to disorder, we love you.
I love everybody.
I am dissing my own order, what did I order, french fries, an hour ago, I ordered myself to make them, but I don’t make food for myself because I hate me.
That is called disjointed speech. If I do it on here, it ends faster.
This is who I fight, not Rei, this, strong trigger, this is raw, scary channeled nightmare.
I think of you every time I hear the peepers, not my you, the one I found on here that sounds like me, how I sounded when I talked to the burning rays of the sun, and thought I was talking to someone else, when I was really talking to resentmeant.
I married sin, it ate me from within.
I married hate, it made me quite irate.
I married wrath, it made me slay a calf.
I was really married to no one, we didn’t have the money, we spent it on heroin, if I had been married I would have been divorced 3 times.
3 strikes, I am out, of the game of slaying my exes with hexes online, because it is unkind and that puts my soul in a bind, with bought time, before I destroy me, and run on bloody knee into a train, this really happened, so insane, I think in addict brain that I am running from something, and I was, a pitbull, metaphoric because this one I can’t say online, don’t have permission to, he chased me till I ran away, afraid he would take me
OUT OUT OUT
Of the state of being able to say anything about anything ever again
Drive me INSANE
I am the psych patient being told, you can’t be allowed out, unless someone signs for you, and unfortunately you can’t remember your name or who to have sign for you.
I can’t. I am stuck in here. I am stuck sitting in a chair next to a man who doesn’t know his name either, he thinks his name is Sand.
He told me this, and I told him, I like grains.
He likes me now.
I am okay with it here, but I like the SUN.
I am so sorry to the most high, not her, not me, but the nature that rests above me, the moon, the stars, everything I do not own, that I made mine when I said.
I have the right to steal everything, from everyone, to buy heroin.
I am so sorrry, but I don’t hate me anymore, because I have written my resentments out here, and they all reflect back at me, well clearly.
Clearly, clearly, look at me, I am spinning I am free, I hurt myself, by killing my friend in only metaphoric sense, but really I kill my heart, my soul, making me an aching hole.
I would divorce myself if I could. I would divorce myself if I could, I am the screaming liar, with soul on fire, who burned fires, set by me worshipping my own death.
Clearly can’t get me, I get my self. I drink bottle HIGH on shelf, I have cut ears of injured elf… it rhymed…
no no no no no.
I am the soul keeper of my own, my precious because it rings so so so true.
Ode to Schizophrenia.
I worshiped Rah. I worshiped death. I worshiped anything that would keep me in
Faker faker faker. Liar. I hate myself. I put my life in fires of HELL, metaphoric and very real, because I can burn, I can feel. I
am eye of tainted man, of woman too because I am too.
Never alone, never alone, I am never alone. Always here with me. Always at my own face, screaming, I hate you.
I am the eater of Damien’s soul, I am MISERY. I EAT HIM WHOLE.
You can’t get me, I forgave myself.
You are silent when I listen, you caw when I do not, I am listening to you my friend, outside my window where you are, though I cannot see you.
Talking to you is better than talking to them, them is a word re-arranged. Them is a word re-arranged.
I did not stain the rug, I did not I swear, I put it down, before the paint was dropped.
I am very careful don’t you see? How could you place the blame on me? I did not stain the rug, and it can be seen in this picture of a rug, that is a different rug, but looks like the rug I did not stain.
Someone with a name I will not mention stained the rug, and it was not me.
Along time ago in a place far away, I cleaned motel rooms and
Om. Sounds like meditation..
I should have cleaned the rooms in a calm manner.
Yeah, maybe then you wouldn’t have lost your job.
I lost my job because I came to work high ever day.
Did that cause you to behave calmly?
Does anyone behave calmly on drugs?
My point exactly.
I am you.
I know them is a word re-arranged, and it is word, that made me realize that it is no longer a good idea for stay up for two weeks at time.
What about them?
Who a word re-arranged?
The people? Which people? Everyone?
I am sorry to the every ones.
There are not multiple every ones.
I thought it sounded cool.
You sound like a tool.
I am a tool.
I mean you are being used, like everyone is being used at times, by the hands of the universe to help other people.
I know, but everyone is used this way.
Tool is loot backwards.
You are such a jerk.
I need to live alone, the results of this oscillation are dizzying. I am not, nor have I ever been good at the whole living with people thing, it goes well at first and then they realize what I am like and try to HELP, or cure parnoid schizophrenia through polite suggestion of normal adaption strategies and ways to fit in.
I am sorry, I hallucinate, and am never sure how much of my reality is real. I do things that upset and scare people like
singing to myself
talking about innappropriate things because I do not know the difference between appropriate and inapproriate
not knowing the difference between emotional honesty and aggression
talking all the time, under my breath to myself, at myself, with myself
So now I because I live hear, and people couldn’t leave me alone, I get to feel uncomfortable for asking to be left alone, and not being left alone, and snapping.
I am accountable yes, it is my fault for snapping yes, but I just wish I knew when I was going to figure out a way out of this situation so I could do what is best for everyone and get out of here.
saying whatever comes into my head instantly because I no longer have an inner monologue
I need to get out of here, and to a place, by myself, before I lose my mind permanently.
I thought this was significant for me because it is close to 100, which is crazy. I remember we had to do something when I was a little kid that involved 100 days, I think it was the 100th day of school or something, we celebrated it. The whole thing was riddled with irony actually, because I hated it.
I told my teacher that the day counting was stupid, because it was just counting down your life, and who would want to do that. I think the irony there is amazing, for someone who would later go on to do the drugs that would tick seconds off my life and smoking and drinking. It’s funny I went from being completely petrified by death to being completely petrified by life, or maybe both are the same thing, and it is really just all the control thing? Dunno.
Our dog hid under the table all night, and followed me around, which is strange, seeking protection from me, when I have always viewed myself as the storm people seek protection from
The thunder and lightning, were my grandmother’s favorite thing in the world, she would drop everything she was doing to go and sit and watch storms. I am reminded of how horribly I treated her, when she was dying. She was an addict too, just alcohol instead of heroin, and I was in the begining of heroin use, so I resented her for having an addiction that everyone could openly see, and knew about. She was a large part of why I left, or my resentment of her, and my family’s varied response to her versus me.
I didn’t understand what made up so different, my drug of choice being different only in that it was illegal.
I forgot my heroin use came after her death from cancer or COPD, or some variation of the two. I forgot what my family went through with her, because I didn’t go through the same thing. I only cared about me.
I apologized for this tonight, so I kind of feel better about the whole thing.
She is crying, loudly, and annoyingly. I am tired of this ****. She keeps chanting almost, like an incantation,
like saying this will have any effect on me whatsoever… God has no patience for unrepentant addicts. I know this, my life has not been a life riddled with anything but pain, but I will stay the course. I will not let you beat me, you will leave first, that’s assured.
I like to go to things like this sometimes, because something about it helps me. I have a hard time with my arrogance every day, reflecting on something higher takes me out of myself, and makes me less self focused, which is great because I hate myself anyway, which I am working on, but it is hard to sit with myself everyday, because, most of the time I wish I could break up with me, like everyone else did.. haha…
That was really pathetic… but I am trying to be honest. I think the thing that I appreciated the most about the whole thing is it showed the strength of someone doing something completely out of duty, for something that was not all about them, but a sacrifice. It really spoke to me, because my life has been quite the opposite, and I used to think that made me strong, but I am realizing very slowly, it just makes me an ***hole. I am trying to figure out the middle ground, the way to break the cycle between self assertion and self-pity and self hatred. I am just not there yet, because I am still not able to surrender completely to something, because I am still stuck at the resenting me part.
I really need to work on the whole thing, which I think the first step to is getting over the fact that I am alone, because I need to be right now. I was a self-seeking ***hole and those kinds of people need to be alone sometimes.
How about you Amanda?
Yeah, me too. I actually slept.
Yeah, so did I, not that anyone other than you notice because I am alone.
Our family notices, and you are being less of an ***. You actually said you were sorry yesterday, not something I would have done.
It made me look better.
You always have to ruin compliments.
They make me uncomfortable, because I think the person giving them has ulterior motives.
I am you, what ulterior motives could I have.
I am a tragic dancer, I am a reality distancer, I am a fictioneer, I am addicted to human fear.
I am drinker of beer, I am commiter of jeer.
I am leary, I am query, I am dark, I am stark, I am hate, I am relate.
How do you dance in the dark night?
Do you delight in the
Of the fallen?
Or do you pull them up?
I don’t know I don’t know
Say isn’t so?
Where do you go when it is dark?
To.. the answer is changing **** it.
I know, for me too.
For me too.
I was happy with her, with a different girl, she accepted me, she was the same as I was…. we both had paranoid schizophrenia. I loved her truly and deeply, I was just insanely ****ing stupid, and got pissed one day because she ripped me off…and that obviously matters more than anything right? Stupid…….. I left and went over to Rei’s or whatever she calls herself…….
I left because she offered to get high with me…****ing great reason… to leave someone right? Some else has free ****. I didn’t want to admit this to myself… that it was all about that. We had two dogs. I left my dog and my girlfriend for another person who said they had always loved me, but more importantly offered to help me on a day when my ex had ripped me off. So I slept with someone else because they gave me free ****. So I deserve this… I deserve her leaving me for someone else, because I did the same thing.
That is what made me turn my **** around. I am out. I am disgusted with myself, with my choices, my life and everything I did to myself and those around me. She even offered to take me back, and Rei offered me **** to stay. So I stayed, like a dog, then we ripped off every single one of our friends and left the area and lived on the streets for 4 years until we almost died out there of freezing to death, and I will leave the rest of that one for later.
I am so tired of the whole thing. I am finding peace in being away from all of this, I think it is ironic that a drug named for a misspelling female hero makes people the opposite of heroic. I am such a piece of ****.
RDP WEDNESDAY: NSFW CONSEQUENCES: SELF HATRED
A time when both of us loved each other, when the thought of you made me feel things, I thought I would never feel, nothing like anything I ever felt before. I remember for the first time in my life, not being so present, in my self-asserting madness, being there with you and not aware of me existing at all, as a seperate entity.
Toxic relationship they say, but is it really? I feel like I am toxic myself, like you made me less so…..
I don’t even know..
I just wish I hated myself less…
Maybe that is the consequence of all this… I hate myself…… so much………..
I could and should do this, playing the creator of the world, while playing at being the creator of the world, thinking myself so high,
Well I was just not above anyone, just stupid and arrogant.
I took your last name, baby. That’s a consequence. I will remember you forever, because I stole a peice of you, and that isn’t a consequence is it? More like me being an ***hole… again… ****
I don’t know, I don’t like words that make me uncomfortable… and accountability *****.
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.
I said kill me baby, would you please? I am on my freakin’ knees, begging honey would you dare, let me touch your pretty hair? I love you baby, don’t you know, do you really have to go? I want you badly, miss you greatly, have been thinking of you lately, so I say honey please answer me, I miss you so, won’t you please, please, please,
PICK UP THE PHONE
Don’t leave me here alone, I am sorry, I was drunk, I didn’t know what I thunk, I don’t know what I said, I was silly, soul so dead, please call me back back back
My soul I attack attack attack, tell me what I said, to make your eyes, oh so read, please please please.
I will stop drinking **** it. I swear I am done. This isn’t fun anymore.
I still have tools, they are on loan, they have been given to me as long as I cast no more stones, I am allowed to have them… I think…. I hope.. I pray as long as I stay away from things that make me stay away from good.
I am should. I am could. I am do. I am no longer used for use but to be used by things higher than I could ever be.
I am give, I am live. I am going to do what I should to protect my soul.
I am no longer drink but think.
I am no longer drink but think.
I am no longer drink but think.
I am so happy to be at peace, a place, instead of the sensation of mind erase, a drink, but also a place. I am no longer the feeling of lack of space, but am allowed to exist.
I wasn’t before this. I was a state of mind that was pushed away, a meditation thought to be decay, but now I exist.
Drinking, using, any of that… is not better than this, and none of that is missed, not for anything would I give up this.
I am so glad to be done, and be able to not hate myself anymore.
I have begun to sow the fractured pieces of my soul back together, but it is hard, a reverse dissection of a fake infection projected on me by my own hand.
I emptied both of my laundry baskets last night, metaphorical and physical, instead of throwing all my clothes out and saying I don’t need more than the clothes on my back.
I don’t have many clothes, or I didn’t because whenever I would get angry, I would throw my clothes out, or all over the road, or all over the woods, or leave them at someone’s house, or you get the idea. I leave things places, because I don’t need things… or so I thought.. apparently… that is addiction thinking……
I used to hate my family,
Because they did not understand me.
They told me try to get better, because they don’t ****ing understand me…
Or because they love you, jerk.
I did my laundry yesterday with my mother, and she helped me fold it because I am missing three of my finger tips, because I have done things that caused me to get infections in my hands…
I told her I was sorry, and now my laundry is put away and all of it is clean.
If I kick this chair, over and over till it breaks, and then say I am sorry over and over, then I did not make a mistake. I am not good at give and take, because it is all your fault, because you take, take, take. So I am going to have to break, break, break
This chair, right now.
I am not a fan of chairs anyway, they are stupid. I don’t like something telling me how to sit. I will sit, however I want. I don’t need a stupid chair.
Look at you, stupid chair, lying in the floor? Who is sitting up now?? Neither of us. I am sorry, by the way, someone nice probably made you, and I ruined it.
I had this teacher in 8th grade who had all of us do this writing anthology, all of us meaning even those of us with learning disabilities, I have hydrocephalus, so I am bad at math, and they pegged me into the classes that were for those with learning disabilities even though I am not bad at English or writing, which did focused on remedial skills, and I was bored, and sat there and did not pay attention, because I was not meant to be in that class. I was one of the kids with an IEP. Individual education plan, which said that I had learning disabilities, but due to a lack of understanding of the brain because they are teachers not doctors ,they thought I had learning disabilities in everything not just math and geography. I am visually/spatially challenged due to hydrocephalus. Seeing the reason for See Clearly?
This woman made everyone do the anthology and used my anthology as a reason to fight for me the next year to not be in remedial English in HS. She also said this to me.
“If you don’t deal with your anger, you are going to ruin your life, and you can use the writing to do that. You like it, and it is a positive outlet,”.
I wish I had listened, but she still remains the most influential teacher in my life, I would not have kept writing if it wasn’t for her. I just always thought my writing was awful. I just did it instead of crying…..
Unfortunately I ruined it, so for now I am stuck with this, and I think I am supposed to learn to release control
‘I hate my life sometimes, because I just want some semblance of control over something, not everything, just something. I feel like I have been in a situation, my whole life… where I am fighting to control everything because I control nothing. I get that I am supposed to stop doing this, and I am trying, but it is like being in a rigged chess game, or that is what it feels like.
How am I supposed to be okay with losing, if I know the game is rigged to begin with?
I know this all just addict thinking, resentment based, my life is harder.. that’s why I got high… got drunk… but my life was the reason I got high or drunk…… I am still in the same horrible positions I have been fighting all my life to escape, just lesser versions of them. I don’t get sometimes what the point of all this is, I guess? How am I supposed to trust something that I don’t understand enough to trust?
I guess I want to change the answer of this post,
I wish I could trust in a higher power more every day.
You don’t listen to me, when I beg you, do not ****ing call me that ever again. If you do stay the **** away from me. I am not your girl, I never was, and if you want that GET THE **** away from me, because you will not get what you want from me. You will not get someone saying pretty things to you, that is not me, never ****ing was. Sorry, you don’t like it…. stay away.
I am not the universe’s gift to anyone, you don’t own me, and I will not do anything that is not good for me, and that includes listening you say that **** to me over and over and over, it is not some magical incantation that causes me to be what you want. **** you. *** your believe that I am something you own. I am no one’s. GET THE **** out with that ****.
Need an outlet, I am spinning tales of death to distract myself from what I am really thinking. It is 9:24 on the east coast……. and I am sitting staring into the darkness of this screen, thinking of how much I long for something, out of sickness…. I long for you… oh spindle of silence,
Heroin, oh heroin, I love you so,
Heroin, oh heroin, why must I say no?
Why, must I long for you for the sweet kiss of death every night at this time?
I used to live in the woods, really I did. I spent an entire 8 months in the Oregon dunes, somewhere and everywhere in Oregon. I lived there and survived by clamming, and panhandling for food money, and don’t feel bad for me, I made 200 dollars a day, so very promptly after getting there, I developed a nasty attraction to bitter rocks that ate a hole through my hands and my soul.
They chased me to California. I walked there, I think I mentioned that before, high as a kite, I flew on the feet of the dragon, and the wings of fallen dreams to the state of California, with an angel of mercy sent to me whose name ironically was Chris, he sang like a bird the entire way. He was a beautiful singer. My arrogance and pride caused me to walk away, literally from one of the kindest human beings I have ever met in my life, without even saying goodbye. He screamed after me, and I ran, fleeing kindness for California, where I would meet what I was running to, an empire of pain on the sullied streets, I thought I desired so much. I am sorry Chris, you were kind to me, and I should have at least said goodbye.
I can’t even see, I am so exhausted from making myself cry, clawing and scratching, and scrapping, and ripping and tearing at my own eyes, fighting to make it impossible to use them, so I can never see this again, myself through someone else, who ripped me so far away from myself, I don’t even know who I am anymore.
I am a cat who cannot see the cat in the mirror is them. I jump at the mirror, slamming with full impact into the glass, a marriage of breaking, a marriage of crashing, a marriage of skin meet sharp object, so very much like my tragic love affair with things heroic, but not, because they hide in human skin, and only bring death and pain and loss and women who used me like a severing knife, and then turned the knife on me.
I have become her outer monologue manifest in my mind, manifesting in man of festering infected soul. I am so stupid, I am doing this to myself, and I can’t bring myself to stop doing it because that means I am alone, and I don’t know if it is worse to talk to demonic ghosts or be alone.
I say I am never touching you again, and I am being childish, but you don’t want to know what I meant, and it was nothing against you.
I was in love with you, and I know my hands are dirty because they always are, not physically but metaphorically, that is why they are usually cracked and bleeding and prone to infection, aside from old habits done with fire and shot in vain.
You told me you knew how to help me, I told you I didn’t need your help, and you said I was being selfish, so I let you unpack the suitcase of dirty laundry that is my aching bleeding cut, open wound of a soul, and you donated them all to charity and bought me new clothes, I am not going to wear your new clothes, I am a human being with feelings, and bad as I am, I am still a human being with feelings, and if you hated me so much…. I am starting to be glad you are no longer around, because I would rather be lonely the rest of my life, then ever have to fight with someone while high on my own supply with you who contributed nothing but criticism, when I kept trying to get clean and sober.
Here, you would say, giving me some of yours, which I didn’t know you had, when you were going line for line shot for shot with me, on money bought with gambling that no one figures me out.
I am so tired of thinking of you.
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.
I am learning that I was stuck in a cycle, going down the drain, a cycle that I am not out of, but aware of now. I am still in the cycle, I just can catch myself when I realize I am about to disappear down the drain, the whole honesty thing is really powerful. I am crazy so I really believed I was doomed and would always be alone, stuck in my psycho delusions, ranting to myself about not being at fault, knowing that it was my weakness, and desire to assert instead of show strength that caused my drain circling. I am learning that like this metaphor, such is my life. I figured out through everything going on with me, that I am able to let poison out and let it go down the drain without having to go down the drain completely, myself. I am a human being and there are no drains that fit human beings down them, because that is not necessary.
I know this after the chaotic torture fest that has been the contents of this blog. I am so thankful I did this, I don’t think I would be alive right now if I had not written this down, and am thankful every day, for all of you, all of this, and a life that is very much worth starting over.
I have been courted all my life, to dance with loaded gun or held knife at my Neck, by myself, on a shelf, which of course is what I think because, baby I ****ing stink, I smell booze, in heart and soul, still drunk but dry, sometimes I know.
I reek of anger, creaking madness, rocking back and forth epic sadness, dark reflection, not staring at mirror, but bashing crashing and dying in epic fear.
I am loaded gun, I am dark resistance, I am tragic, insistence, that though I am dry, I am GOD. I am responsible for divining rod, punishing me, I am insistence on trying to be my own
Soul forsaken, breaking me, tragically, beginning to see how epic my failure is.. or simply that I am an addict who needs a higher power.
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 ****.
I love ya, hunny, and it shows, or showed, when things were going well, you know? When we were loaded with lots of cash, and didn’t have to worry about you stealing my ****ing stash, but now I am sorry sweetie, gotta go,
Because you know what, sorry, baby, we’re in a rut and as much as I love ya, you ****ing ****! I hate your stupid ugly guts, so take my money sweetie, I don’t need it, hope you like it, hope you keep it for longer than one day, because sorry dear, I am staying away.
I am walking to California, and so my dear, I am going to warn you if you come near me, I can say I will bite your head off, and make you pay, because I have a rare gift don’t you see and sounding like guy I still have these? So now with the power of two in one I am pimp and whore with loaded gun.
I will take out your eye, don’t touch me ****er, and if you say anything I will make sure your luck
Is in the ER ER ER ER
I am sitting by the water again. I am looking out into the ever expanding nothing, I say ever expanding because the lights of the streetlights are going in and out and in and out next to me. They turn on and off, not on a timer but timed randomly with something. I have noticed that they respond to my movement, they turn on and off as if communicating with something in me, but I do not know what it is. They seem to respond to certain kinds of thought, but it is uneasy to place. I am not sure what it is. There turning on and off varies not by the kind of thought being positive or negative, that does not matter, they respond to recognition and the level to which the thought is thought, to intensity not to the kind of intensity.
I move towards them and it seems to me, like they are dancing with me. They turn on and of and on and off on my skin, and it is almost as if I can feel a warmness, that is not heat related. It is a warmness felt in something else, I feel it in my soul. I do not know what that means.
I just know that when I move the lights turn on and off as I think they are going to. I walk and they follow me, they light my way or shade it.
I do not know how to deal with this, what to do about it.
I just know I do not walk in the dark ever.
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.
I run from an eight ball, or a ball of drugs on a pool table, that is also symbolic for how afraid I am of myself, that I sought death and intoxication above being ****ing human.
Make me human.
I am running, which is not true, I am doing better
Look at me! Look at me!
I am so insecure, and I am sure that it will eventually go away, but I don’t know what to do about now, when I don’t want to drink or get high but I am so afraid of people poking me in the eye, that I do it to myself over and over because it feels so much better than you doing it, which inherently I know you don’t want to do anyway, but I like to show dominance through pain, because it makes me feel special and important and so very unique.
You reek of selfishness Millennial.
Oh, good one cheap shooting ****
You are an idiot.
I am a flat line, drawn in the sand, killing insecurity with an imaginary massive attack of stop doing this now, forgive yourself **** it.
I don’t know why I can’t say anything I really mean without being incredibly mean, I mean to say I do not know how to disagree and guess it shows because I either hide or kill and don’t like no’s or yes-es or opinions that differ from mine, and prone to silence or telling lies, and so I have been resigned all my life to sit and stew and not dare ever talk to any of you, because I fear my biting tongue, and ever present lack of resistance, utter insistence on being right and love of the act of fight. I am a jerk, a pain, a whiner a crier, a lover of war, of pain and fire. I am mean and I am ruthless, but my arguments you see are not with you, I do not hate anything you do.
They are with me, and what I lack, and my constant desire for attack and death smack. I do not know what to say, so usually I just go away, sit alone and drink or use, and my soul I sear with cold abuse, I am trying but I suck at this, I do not want to do this, and I miss things I never had because I live in fear and I can’t stop because I can’t drink beer or shoot up drugs, and it is not solved with getting hugs or sitting peacefully on rugs or talking to people you say will help me, they do not know the hell it is to be me
I am just simply without words, and I mean it when I tell you it really hurts living alone because you can’t do life, living in constant strife and being tempted to cut with knife, the very fabrics of your fragile life.
I am trying but I can’t right now seem to see what makes you so happy and so free, I am stuck to sit and to think that maybe if I cannot think of anything else, at least I know, I am trying, hope it shows.
I can change my voice to sound like a man or woman, it is like nothing you have seen coming, I am my girlfriend and my boyfriend, person with four hands that will convince you that is someone who is me is after me, and will stand there laughing, while screaming please save me, he is after me! I am a master of deceit and lies, crafting whole worlds based on the idea of woman despised when I am really man with blurry eyes.
I am the one who is beating me, I speak only deceiving me, everyone already knows who I am, they can clearly see me, spinning webs and telling tales of loves lost and ships sailed that never sailed because they don’t exist, I don’t own a boat because I have lived my whole life in spendthrift style, grabbing at purses with feigned smile. I am so sorry, I am desperate, I had a hard life and just need this little bit of cash to buy a train ticket, so I can get away because he is after me, meanwhile he is me and laughing
I am the one who was always crafting reason for passing blame and shame
because I needed drugs not hugs or shrugs or doves or hope or peace or love or bliss I wanted simply this
HEROIN, a sweet kiss of death an maybe some METH.
I am trying here, I am not a good person, and live now in fear. I am sorry for what I did and mean to say in attitude of a little kid, I was so sad don’t you see? The one I was really fooling was me.
I like being able to just sit here and talk to this page, without someone demanding my attention, my daughter sits in the same room, doing her own thing. That was the thing that always got to me about the women in my life, my thing became their thing, and they made it all about them, and then I didn’t even want to do it anymore, it became corrupted with resentment, turning it green and glowing with an aura of sickness, corrupting the image, seeping into its every pore, like a MRSA infection, taking over its form and making it a different thing.
I didn’t ever want to write a book with that ****. I wanted to right one by myself, and she wanted to help me, so she did this stupid thing on here, and I tried to ruin it, with sing song **** that was not even any good, that was mocking of how she talked to me, all rhyme based and stupid, like a nursery rhyme from hell, she is the voice of misery by the way…….. I don’t remember where the **** I was going with that, I got distracted by my daughter telling me a story about Looney Tunes.
“Wherever they burn books, in the end will also burn human beings.”
– Heinrich Heine
EXPLICIT CONTENT: Post uses poetic analogy for the addict backed into a corner and told to drink, when this happens we sometimes attack like a killer or a vicious dog. This is metaphorical only, I have only ever killed anyone with my silence, not saying anything as my friends died in active addiction. These are allegories in all gory glory.
We are in a basement, a base meant for debasement of everything I have ever come to know to be true about myself. I am looking into the eyes of a woman who I used to know, I still know her, but I am choosing to forget this right now, not now but then.
Rei hands me a bottle, it had booze in it. I think she is handing it to me to drink it, it is everclear, funny name for alcohol that makes you so unclear..
I get pissed, so I put a cloth in it soak it in alcohol, by dipping it in the bottle, the smell of it disgusting, I hate it. I am sickened by the smell and want only to get it off my hands. I light the rag on fire, and she tells me the girl who sits in front of me wants me to drink it. I have been up for five days, and I would have known that what she is saying is not true, had I not been high, and been thinking clearly not thinking under the influence of things that cloud my mind.
I throw the burning bottle at the woman’s feet, Rei thinks I did this to burn the woman alive, and laughs. I was aiming at the book on the floor, the **** had a copy of a book about alcoholism at her feet, hating the irony I want to burn it.
The girl burned alive, because I can’t look in the mirror.
I watched because I couldn’t figure out how to put it out.
In case anyone is wondering after the public display on internet of my complete meltdown, I do not miss her at all. I am realizing she never loved me because I never loved me, so I am done with relationships, until I can learn how to walk again. I feel like I broke both my legs and have been trying to pretend they haven’t been broken for 15 years. To avoid permanent paralysis I am going to stop walking at all with anyone, walking meaning dating, and a metaphor used because dating is supposed to be a walk outside one’s self. I need to be within myself right now.
I am so lost I can’t get lost in anyone else’s eyes, because people only see reflections of people, reflected light cast to the eye in shadow, and this is too dangerous for me right now, because I am mostly in shadow, having never actually looked in the mirror, I don’t know the difference between me and a lamp, and I think this has always been my problem. I think I was so crazy because, I did not even know what a human being was, because I had been told my whole life, it did not matter what it was, because I wasn’t one anyway, being a monster addict, with paranoid schizophrenia and a split personality.
I am going to try to learn how a person like this can do something positive with their life, because I refuse to believe the only place for people like us, yes the royal we, is on the streets screaming into the chaotic night.
I am so sorry for anyone who worried about me, because of my loud public spectacle, at least I get it in my own room this time, on this on this blog only.
Revealed to me to invalidate below:
I am not the center of the universe, like I thought in below post
I am going to slit this woman’s eye balls out of her head. I have been thinking about it all morning, and I can’t think of another way to handle this, because I am stuck on idea of removing her eyes from her skull. I know this is not healthy, but I would love to poke her in the eye like the cyclops she is, unseeing in all her stupidity.
Wow, cheap shot of the internet, thanks for this one, right in the heart.
“The computer is also not famous for having mercy.”
Orson Scott Card, Ender’s Game
Maybe that is a sign I should do nothing… I have been remembering quotes from this book all day applied to my life, but I forgot about this one, and it just hit me where it hurts. So I don’t know what I am going to do now.
Damn it. I hate having a conscience, it is very inconvenient.
Amanda has a couple of these, except unlike me, she never married them. One of them is still trying to find her, **** him.
There are people who are in love with causing pain, not capable of being in love with people, but with the act of hurting people itself. That is what Deborah or Diane is, she is a harpee, not literally, but like one, she was in love with watching me be in agony. I was in love with it too. Don’t get me wrong, she was in love with me too, I know this, and that was what drew me to the whole thing. I never loved her, and it drives her crazy. She wanted nothing more than to possess me, and make me possessed by the same force that possesses her, but it can’t touch me anymore, and it never consumed me the way it consumes her.
I first began to hear Misery or resentment speak to me when I was eight years old. I almost died, and was saved by the grace of mercy, however I was very young and very angry. I did not know what it was, but it spoke to me because I wanted it to. It said things that I liked hearing, that I was justified in my anger, that it was good to get it out of my system, that I had every right to feel the way that I did, that everyone would feel the same way if they only knew how different and how hard my specific situation was.
That is what it does, it isolates you, putting you on a pedestal, worshiping you, making you feel special and then in very crucial moments slicing at the parts of you that hurt the most, at your darkest fears. It knows them because you tell it to it, instantly, it makes you want to. It tells you it understands, that you are special and different and complicated, and that anyone if they knew just how hard it was to be very specifically you, would have done exactly as you did the whole time, that you are never wrong and to be worshiped and this feels good, and you fall in love with it, and then it tells you what it wants, and it wants servitude. If you do exactly what it wants it will pet you like a cat forever, you will never be alone again, unless you forsake it, and then it won’t leave you alone either. Slowly, having captivated you, it switches, playing with you, alternating between cutting at the very things it said it loved and telling you it is the only one who loves those things, that no one else understands you like it does, and you are very special to it, and need to remember that because only it knows it, and only it will treat you exactly how you deserve.
I know now that the voice that came to me then, was Deborah or Diane because she doesn’t age, she has always been 35. She will always be 35, I don’t know how. She came to me back then when I was 8 and tried to mold me into who she wanted, and I loved her, oh that and began feeding me poison, and telling me it was our secret, and if I kept it secret, she would to.
She did this to me for years, and it felt so good because she was also my provider, she gave me everything she had to keep me around and I let her stroke my ego because I liked it.
Rei is not my daughter’s mother, Deb or Diane is, but I will not tell Rei this. Diane or Deb is poison and she was trying to kill our child, or enslave her which is the same thing, she was testing certain things on her, and making her do things for people with the same strategy she used on me, except on a 18 year old girl, who was created by Deb’s company in a lab, to always be 18. Terrifying really. More about this later.I am not revealing this to Rei myself, if she finds this out on her so be it.
More about this later, I am freaking myself out and it is late.
I just realized how much I constantly squash myself under my own thumb. I blame others, and make excuses for the reasons I have failed, I create stories that justify my behavior and tell you in crafted lies, why I had to do what I did because if you only knew how hard it was to be me you would have done the same thing. I just saw clearly for the first time in my life that the only thing behind my suffering has been my own personal choices, and continuous hissy fits at a universe that has been nothing but kind to me, letting me continue to live, when in truth I have done nothing to deserve this. I am a bad person, I know this now, I say this not because of what I have done, but because of the fact that I continued to do things, whatever they were when I knew they were hurting people and I did not care because I am selfish, self centered, egotistical and drawn to the delusion that I can somehow make up for all of my bad behavior through ridiculous justification. I can’t, I am what I am and the only thing I can do is make up for it now, by actively trying to change my life, which I will start trying to do by not feeling sorry for myself because I am lucky enough to still be here for whatever reason, and I am going to make it a good one.
I see that it does not matter who I was, that was a justification for a bad man’s life, but I am failing to move on. I will begin doing that going forward, bear with me, I have no idea what I am doing.
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.
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……..
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.
He came to me many times throughout my life, starting at seven years old, he was always the same age, 38. He must have done something at 38 that got to him, and he got stuck there, and paced through life stuck there, inter-dimensional time traveling ghost of Christmas future that he was, he showed me how to be everything that I am. We were thick as thieves and thieves as well. It is a very clever device to get whatever you want, all the devices he taught me, I mean. He is skilled with words, and I admired that, being a writer myself, but he was man, and had the appearance I wish I had myself, but I did not find myself attracted to him in the traditional way.
I want to hide away in the back of a cave At the top of a mountain Where no one can hear me and no one can see me So I don't have to deal with them And they don't have to deal with me
Days N Daze, “Misanthropic Drunken Loner”
I was attracted to him sure, in the way a moth is drawn to flame, and for the longest time, I chased after this, burning my heart with the hot hands of bad men, not knowing I was hunting my own self, seen through the mirror of other dimensional Damien de Soto. He was me and I was in love with myself, and the selfish pursuit of the things that made this an easier admission. I cared nothing for the human beings I robbed, tricked, lied to or manipulated, they were simply devices for spare changes that in their mental sparring with my soul, cut deeply into my ideas that I resembled anything that could be called even close to human at all. I was so in love with him because he was me, and I desired to be him.
So that is who I became.
I am not that thing anymore, do you still like me now?
More than ever. You have discovered with me that true strength is in love.
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.
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.
Hey, that is mean..
I know, but I thought it would get you to talk to me.
Jerk. Fine, here.
I am fine.. I am fine. I am fine. Everything is just ******* peachy. I can’t even feel things anymore lest I resurrect demon. Everything is my ******* fault. I can’t have a genuine response. I am not allowed to.
Geez. You can, just think of the effect on the other people.
I am. That is all I am thinking about right now, I am just going to not do anything, anymore. I am the… I sound like such..
Yeah, I know.
Thanks, I need that.
Now, you know a little more about what I hear in my head on repeat when I am talking to myself, you know what keeps me up at night. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, I was just not able to stop doing what I was doing easily… I was weak and stupid, and even though I knew what I was doing to others, to myself, and to who and what I was serving, I still refused to surrender. I do not regret doing what I did when I did not know what I was doing. I regret doing it after, due to my own weakness, and lack of resolve to walk away.
I do too, Damien.
I know. I am you.
I think we can fix it by doing the right thing now.
Yes, you have to move on, beating yourself up is what it wants.
Okay, I will try.
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.
I am also reminded to freakin’ eat, I just felt sick and realized that was the stupid problem.
I mentioned before something about red lights that I would see on occasion somewhere else, that I don’t like to speak of here in Misery. It is a location, which does not need to be discussed in specificity to its exact locality.
The strangest thing about this place is that it seems forever set in motion on a trajectory of the damned. There is some sinister purpose that pollutes everything in the area, from the needle filled streets, to the garbage lined sidewalks, to the very eyes that look at you with silent disdain. The land is full of angry souls, reeking of resentment and writhing in such visible agony that is only not visible to them, what is truly terrifying behind all of this, is most of these people speak with the same voice, as if possessed by something, or thinking all the same thoughts, I am not sure what it is, and do not mean to suggest only demonic possession. I relay only what I have seen.
I am going to leave it at that for now because my cat is losing it, and it is very distracting, and as always my stomach hurts.
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.
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.
I speak with timorous voice, I am sorry I am a coward I don’t have a choice, so lacking any courage I speak of being discouraged and propelled by the resentment of self. I am a very selfish creature, destruction of myself has been main feature, of life fated to die, trying to stab out my eyes because bravery is something I am lacking. I am prone to vicious attacking, if you know me, you see that’s armor I am stacking in loads piled high stacked up to the sky, I build fortress around my dark eyes.
I do not sleep because I am scared, I used things to keep my lids bare, not a lid on them would be, because sleep I didn’t need, I was addicted to running in fear.
Now I am different today, in a place with a door do I stay, I don’t have to run, I have learned to have fun, and banished the pain in my sore legs.
I think that is why this bothers me so much, maybe. You don’t stop learning until you die. I think that might be a little melodramatic, maybe… I don’t think this website wants to assume they are getting to hear the thoughts of a dying man, which would not be a terrible thing either… I guess…. because then at least… well… someone would get to hear them?
Last thing I learned…
That it is important to follow the rules, so that is why I am re-doing this post…
Along that line of thought, I learned to not be lazy and that I can do an AA day count on my computer and bring it to the meetings that I go to even though I personally don’t like counting days, there is something to be said for the reverence to structure that in this case is my personal revelation that is not personal at all, powered by God and recovery to shut up and listen.
There, I followed the rules.
The best day I have had in my life so far, I feel so much better, which will most likely last about 21 minutes or something till something changes, and I go through some other psycho breakdown.
There we go. 21 seconds of peace, before I snap at myself, on the internet, and now I am remembering how shitty I feel. **** it.
But, still best day ever, which shows me how bad my days have been before, I love everyone on this website. It is really saving my pathetic life.
It is so quiet here right now, my wife is in the next room, watching some show with my daughter, we had dinner together, which was weird. I think they are strange.
I love them though, just don’t understand why they like me.
I mean that wholeheartedly, talking to myself helps me, and I am hoping maybe it will help someone else to see my displayed vanity insanity typed over and over, and it is better to talk to myself on here then cry myself to sleep, or get drunk or high because I am scared. Okay, not going to erase that, it felt very good to write that.
I have a very hard time admitting weakness,
Can I help you with something?
This says to my brain
You are paying attention to me
Stop looking at me **** it.
I am doing fine, if you only knew what my life was like you would look this ****** too, so stop reminding me of how pathetic I am by implying I need anything from you.
You have noticed something I am doing that illustrates that there would be any reason I need help.
I do everything to the best of my ability at the time, which is very poorly because I am a drug addict and an alcoholic who sucks at everything except engaging in fits of rage or joy on the internet, and I say that lightly because displays of affection towards myself are disgusting. 😉
You are telling me something I am doing is inadequate which makes me mad immediately because why are you looking for inadequacy in someone you don’t know
You think I need anyone other than myself.
This makes me feel uncomfortable because I don’t want to want or need people, because then they can hurt me.
I am terrified of wanting or needing anyone.
I would rather be rejected immediately
Kindness of strangers annoys me, because I am just going to say the wrong thing and cause discomfort for everyone.
That’s cool. I am happy for you.
Why? She is going to rip my heart out, I am awful, and she will realize it eventually and move on, and I just…… I don’t like feeling like I want or need anyone, but I….
Just be nice.
I don’t know how
Did anything happen?
No, she just really scares me, she is everything I ever wanted in another human being, without realizing I ever wanted anything at all. I was content in Hell. I was fine, and now I don’t know, I feel like if she ever figures out what a piece of…..I am awful and I love….
Just chill out, she loves you.
I know, I just can’t handle this, I am such a loser, what do I do.
Just calm down.
Okay, I will.. or I will try.
Thanks, me too….
So I officially didn’t kill the **** after being given permission to. I thought about it. I really did, actually, not that I need to tell you that.. I wrote about it on here, so obviously I thought about it. I didn’t kill him for a strange reason. I like the way he avoids eye contact with me now. It is fun. I think I might be able to make the little **** walk into a car just by looking at him. Then I didn’t officially kill the poor *******. Or, I get to torment a **** the rest of my life, in the name of defending my daughter, I am hoping for the latter, because it sounds fun.
I am just going to act like I don’t know the guy now and stand behind him awkwardly sometimes to make him look like the writhing worm he is, so no more women will be messed with the way he messed with my daughter.
I figure if he doesn’t kill himself, I have fun bored game to play the rest of my life.
This is psychotic I know, but progress… maybe.
At least I don’t have to clean blood out from under my finger nails for hours. I can smell that right now. That is the only time it grosses me out.
I don’t know what is wrong with me sometimes, I fantasize about the strangest things, drawn to your hands and I think of times when I could cut them off, your nails are red and I think about the scraping against my skin, the red blood under your nails being so similar in character to mine, it makes me uncomfortable, I don’t want to feel this way, so I fantasize about cutting off your finger, and how it would be so easy when holding your hand to break it because they are so soft and there is nothing stopping me from squeezing it as tight as I can
YOU CAN NEVER ESCAPE YOURSELF DAMIEN
I know this, and that is why I write it down, because it is so much easier than wondering how much it would take and bite you while you kiss me because I have always found it easier to taste the metallic taste of your blood than that of your cinnamon lips, I want you so badly and that makes me want to hate you, it makes me want to
Rip at the eyes, ripping me out of them so you can’t do it to me first…….
I have no self control, so I sit in a dark hole, which is the grave situation of my life, riddled with question of why does the sight of your tongue make me think of blood running out a mouth with one?
Why do I think of you coughing up blood from a blow to the stomach when I would never want to hurt you? I have no control over my mind, and it torments me more than you will ever know, I am locked in my skin, caged like a clawing animal to try to get out of myself and instead I claw at those around me,
Screaming you can’t own me, when you don’t even want to, you are the kindest person, and I am awful. I do not know what you see when you look into the pools of nothing that are the black pupils of eyes that look like nothing.
Why do you love me?
I don’t get it. I want to rip me out of me.
I hate myself so much.
Or Vietnam for the dinging dong.
I am starting to realize my higher power gave all this to me, so I could see clearly. God gave all this to me, so everything was just exactly as large as it needed to be for me to see it clearly, with the power of See Clearly, or a guardian angel with anger issues that thinks he is a devil because he hates himself. This sounds like a movie, but it is not…. yet…
It is how my life always sounded to me, like a movie.
Like someone made a movie that was a characterization of my fixation with fiction and addiction with sensation and dictated re-tracing of steps that I was walking in the valley of death that could really be the valley of life that I thought I was walking through alone, but I had really been entertained by angels the whole time, just thinking they were devils, because I had it backwards. I had not lived enough yet, to know that Damien was sent to me to protect me, so I crafted lies written by despise with eyes that hated me the most, I am Satan’s Ghost.
Now I am trying to see the Holy Host.
I am trying to bring the power back to the powerful and not the power hungry, because feeding power into the hands of the evil does nothing but give me bad dreams and it seems that means for me that I can only dream of the real and not the desire to steal and not feel. I can no longer be a meal of the dead and consume unholy bread. I am not break bread with devil who never lived because he is an angel that lives with me.
I am free. So is Damien.
He is me, too. I am the two spirited ghost host of the vision of clarity brought to me by divine elation divined in a human being obsessed and dressed in the pain of infernal stain of flame bringing earth sensation..
I walk away now with a mission to be more than fiction but also that
I am Hell’s bathe in the water’s of life and glory of God, I am not great, merely a human with open eyes and the extreme sin of pride who is sent to purify my soul by realizing I am not, my sin is hot and wrought by my hand not His. So I write you this.
Turn the page on whatever strive you have by every day finding the joy in everything, something loves you because you are still here, which means you are needed, even if you believe in nothing other than science, you were the winner, and you are strong and you can beat all your demons that are just fictionalized real things that face you every day. It matters not what I believe that varies with what you believe, only that I tell you this.
The most important thing a human being can do it love and accept self and then others and with that power comes the power to build dreams beyond your wildest imagination because they come from a power higher than any drug or drink or pain fueled death idol could ever make you.
I love you and I don’t even know you, imagine how the ones who know you feel.
Damien and Amanda
His live like mine, a living Hell, he was a slave much like me, he spoke of peace and love but dealt poison speed and black of night
Under cover of name of lady who saves, he was not a bad man just one who desired to get paid, he was my friend, my brother too. Not of blood unless you count that eaten with bent spoon, we all have the same dissing ease it’s okay, you can poke me too, I will not run away. I am your friend chicken and I don’t bite.
I am a vegetarian that eats in black and white or shades of gray or clear, depends on who you ask, and I have no fear, I am not like you, I am a brave one, who hunts with fist and fights for fun. I love to run. run. run.
I am more like a chicken than I think. I have skin rotting with stench of poison stink.
I am decaying and I don’t even care, I am a breather of bitter vapor air. I need no oxygen, don’t you see. I am not a human, but a flying bird don’t need to breathe… that’s not even true, but I don’t care, none of this can touch me I have wings and am not there.
Do you step with forward moving shoe? Do you run fearing lack of soul? I speak to me an ever dug whole of hole in soul. I am a shot in the dark taken from the hands of man who thinks they are feeding homeless man/woman, they never knew what they do they were really buy me
PAIN. Heroine without the e because I am the act of girl who used to wish to be well, anything but me. Oh, so free, I was like a dove with no wings who can’t fly.
Self roast of the burnt toast that is the breakfast I was never there to have because I am so bad that I walked out on mom and dad and went to live on the street, isn’t that neat. I am roast of me for you, because I do not kid this is the only way I can save my soul, by roasting it and spinning like a phoenix without feathers, or an ever forgetting pain drain that forgets to thank the Lord and tries to wield death’s sword.
I was SATAN’s word, now I fight for redemption with mention of evil to remember what I am being redeemed from. I am tired of shunning God in act of being sod instead of lover of my creator.
And now this.
Found this lounge singer style version of the song, which I learned was originally made a long time ago, and covered by Smith. I had no idea, the things you learn from listening to Amanda’s life. My life too.
I am still getting used to that, she made peace with her dad, which is great because resentment is the self-hating mind killer, and both of us are very practiced in the art of slow death. I would rather spend my cash on laughs, nicotine and fire works. I haven’t gone back to that store yet. I used to work there, and they fired me for using drugs… meh… stupid firework store…
This house is getting more peaceful. I am realizing the effect people have on each other, and how much I used to poison those around me. My wife is so much more serine now, and doesn’t **** me off anymore, and I think I don’t piss her off that much.
Damien & Amanda
How weak I was while I was a lying ***. I am so happy I finally got that I was running to the mouth of a storm that was really inside myself, the chaos I chased was the chaos that attacked me. Amanda is realizing this too, that we both existed as a dance with death and wondered why our friends kept dying, and we kept being haunted by reapers that are the characters in the lives of an addict that is why we speak the way we do, through poetic analogy.
My wife and Joy are hanging out in the room talking, and it is nice, because I am remembering that I used to hear voices differently than I do now, I would hear people say things they weren’t saying and be compelled by paranoia about things that were not even things that happened to ruin my life myself. Like I said before, this is Amanda’s backstory too, and her life was the same, we would talk in dark moments, through people. She would see me in their eyes, because for awhile I didn’t have the spirited strength I have now. I was half a person as was she, but I lacked physical form because I lacked… I don’t know the ability to admit I was even a human being?
Enough of this.
No she is not, you don’t kill, you torture, you are source of disorder and perpetual pain enforcer
You are a sorcerer of remorse on deadly course that needs interaction for satisfaction and I am not stupid anymore so I can stop rhyming because you are a sore on the
I am done.
I am here just for you, I am wise and I am smart
I will eat your daughters heart
I come in colors, I come in song
I come in pink so follow along
I am the best
I am a test
I am act of never rest
I am present all the time
I exist in song
I stink in rhyme
I am human spun in time
I am chaos of the mind
I am infliction
I am not fiction
I am just speaking in clear diction
I am the best I am the quest
I am the act of never-ness
You are mine, don’t you see.
Everything you love belongs to me.
In a word, yes. In many words, let me explain.
1. I believe we are fated to have one of two outcomes, us fighting fate with negative outcome because of perpetual running from the fated designed destiny that we are prescribed with as a prescription to the chaos of the universe.
2. I believe we get the positive outcome through serenity, and surrendering our fate to hands of the universe, and turning our will to something that guides us through peaceful acceptance and meditation on the idea that we are not like we previously tried to assert, the center of the universe, but a small part of a bigger picture, that is the picture of the whole earth and the many galaxies outside this one.
I believe in something higher than me, so I don’t get high and drunk and can finally be free, and am not a slave to sing song rhyming ghosts that seek to push me into a corner and make me a toking, smoking, drinking, non-thinking joke of a human being.
I am trying every day to remember this, and my other mind is trying as well, in their present universe, while I operate in the future, with tools of joy instead of tools of pain. We are able to speak to each other now, as we were fated to as spirit guides, inter-dimensional past, present future selves, existing as each other’s past present future, but also as each other self. I think that is what is meant, by two-spirit. I am me and she is they and forever will we ever stay as one but also two and we are everything we do, and what and what they do too. That is what I was destined to do.
I was destined to do what I do now as well and now that I don’t live in Hell, it seems to me if you can’t tell, that things have finally started to go well, which I guess was the prescription for my disease they call addiction and I think, my friend it was destined to that I live, to talk to you.
Relating story of lived life, of bringing pain and bringing strive, of pounding drinkings and slamming drugs, of being friend and giving love, I was meant to say all this to you so you could see clearly too I am not that much different than man who doesn’t use or drink, I was just intoxicated and couldn’t think so now that I am in present mind, reality is not so unkind and I have the time realize many things I ignored and destiny is no longer a chore.
I exist, right now, for the first time, ever. I am a silent contemplation of my present presence in a way that is eerily haunting, in it’s quiet. I am a man of pretense, of violent slurring forcing surging assertion of dominance, and I exist in a world of quiet calm. I feel like I am on pause. I am dominated by the feeling of lack of motion, and in my madness, in the quiet of night, I wonder if there is something to it, some warning in this pause. I am a very fear ridden person, a mad chaotic chaser of things that I force to run with knife or gun, and I am experiencing a lack of prey and pray that it is not the calm before some sort of soul aching chaos.
I am doing my best to protect it, to stay quiet and watch it, a watcher of everything, documented in mind and eye, with peace knowing that if there is a threat, that I know with everything in my being that being whole will help me. I am no longer dominated by the surging virus of human agony that was shot through my veins through sharp dagger, dragon teeth, tearing a pain in vein through my surging hot resentment birthed fire skin.
I am will watch, and wait and for once use my madness to protect the ones I love from whatever this is.
I am a lunatic, it might just be me. I just can’t shake this feeling.
Words sword dor door download death add cash plus mass on soul
I am hole. I am whole, I am viral. Infection of mind
Mind Mind Mind. Mine.
I think we are really making it mad, this is freaking cool.
Yeah, I think we might be winning.
I am glad you found Rei.
I am glad you found Peace.
Wouldn’t it be sick if I met a girl named Peace?
Why do you think it’s targeting her now?
I think it senses it’s losing, and that me and you are not as easy to break anymore. It is mad and it is trying to create resentment in her to get to us.
I think it might have liked having us as servants and its mad that we got away, I think it is interesting that it targets this site too.
I know right?
I am just trying to ignore it, tell Rei over and over that I love her, there is a sisterhood that can exist among addicts, don’t let her think you hate her. I think it is trying to turn us all against each other because it senses a threat to itself.
Okay, I’ll start trying to call out to her more. Tell her I have no intention of taking you away from her, I am really glad you are happy. I am so sorry about the whole me leaving thing, I was just looking for an excuse to bail, I am good at bailing.
Your like hey.
I speak in words, in heart I rumble, you disgusting wench who reeks of fear, you crying *^%#, drinking of shared beer, you think you’re smart but you are not, your just like him and smell of rot. You deceive yourself most of all, beckoning like a servant called, to man so weak he harvest souls, dug graves for men and woman folks, he killed your friends, your family too. He does this and then he’s done with you. You love him so, oh how great. Your pain will be to me a taste of heart and soul that is quiet rare, useless b**ch with such kind stare. I do not hate you, for you don’t matter, latter for death on silver platter, he is my servant don’t you see how you don’t even matter to me?
Help. This is intense.
Just don’t listen to it. It hates that. That’s why he talks all the time, to shout over its voice.
Just keep talking. It hates talking.
I am not going to lie, I feel like %$^&! I am going through the riding my body of a physical infection. I have staff and got a staff infection randomly from an ingrown hair on my leg. I am in a lot of pain, and they put me on a medication that makes me nauseous, so I am being a *&^% about it. I know this. I am not used to doing this kind of thing without being able to self medicate. I am not claiming to be good at this, because I have never done this before.
I am forever baffled by people’s ability to demand understanding, while offering none themselves by demanding anything at all. The very nature of demand is that it is based on misunderstanding another living thing to begin with.
In addiction this is tough,
I suffer too, so you should not show me your suffering
I suffer too, so you should not show me your suffering
Presenting in two people always but also at each other because everyone is always going through something and also a shouting I wanting recognition. Does anyone see the irony here?
I do too, but by nature of being a human being, imaginary in all my potentiality while also presenting in Amanda’s life as a voice of reason, and half of her present self.
I am going through everything Amanda is going through with her family with mine, because I am Amanda’s hopes and dreams, I am her in the future, I am her spirit guide, I am her right now, I am her other half of her soul. I am an extension into another dimension an external representation of neutrality that exists for potentiality of bringing a new reality. I am her now, her past, her present and her future, while also being human myself and with her all the time. I am her spirit guide, and given to her by the universe, as an externalization of what regular people do on their own because she is dual diagnosis, mentally ill and an addict.
I am going through the same thing with Rei, being my point.
‘Why can’t I just be happy?’
‘Just move on!’
‘Why are you being like this?’
‘You were doing so much better before?’
‘Stop being selfish!’
These are all things that are spoken in my house and Amanda’s because we are the same spirit, in two dimensions, presenting in both at the same time. That is what I come to understand two-spirited to mean. I am go back and forth between my and her reality, and she does the same presenting as me in hers and her imagining in mine. I am her future potential as her new self while also being her present self.
I am experiencing the same thing with my family that the other half of my soul is because we are the same person, so the changes in her are the changes in me too. I am an analogy, yes, but I am also her in her dream world, while also being half her in her regular one. I know this is confusing. It is confusing for me too.
I am having a hard time, as you have seen, writhing in agony over how to do the right thing all the time. I just now realized with my friend, that I am writhing in agony, because I am trying to do something that is impossible and then resenting myself for failing. I can only do my best and trust in a higher power that everything will be alright. I cannot make everything alright. I cannot make anything. I can simply try and learn from it.
I cannot always be perfect. I am learning that my inaction and hissy fits of I am going to keep to myself then, meh meh meh… thing is bad. I am not able to be perfect, and things will not always go well. I am going to piss off my family. I am going to do the wrong thing sometimes. The key here is to move on afterwards and say I am sorry, when I am ready. I just got this and so did Amanda. I really believed up until now that the key to avoid resentment was to always do the right thing. I know that is insane. I am insane. I am an addict. I want easy solutions. I am sorry. I tried. I failed. Moving on…
What do I do?
I wake you up? Sorry.
It’s okay. What do you do about what?
I don’t know what to do about my family. What do you think I should do?
You think I should do nothing? That makes no sense. I can’t do nothing. I am always by nature of being a person who exists doing something.
Everything is not always about you. I am not saying you are being selfish. I am sometimes people are reacting because of something about them. Things can’ always go pleasantly when you are honest. Just be honest and do your best. No more facades, they are the path to resentment.
Thank you, Damien.
You’re welcome. Glad you are listening now.
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.
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?
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.
It is silent. I can think. I am really stuck on this. I think it is who am I even? I have no idea. I am an act, in a lot of ways, an act of pretending because I want something, and I don’t how to be in a situation where I am not coning someone. I am obsessed with this concept recently, but I don’t think I have talked about on here. How do I move on from what I have done? How do I do that without losing my entire self, and why does it matter if I lose my entire self if my entire self was built on being a lying drug addict who would do anything to get high. I don’t know how to live with myself. It is not my family that is driving me nuts, it is me. I don’t know how to stop driving myself nuts.
I hate myself so much. I don’t know how to move on. I think the idea of myself as a person, is rooted in resentment, so if you remove my roots don’t I die? Is that healthy?
I don’t know. I don’t want to die, for the first time ever, but I don’t even know what being a good person means. I know how to get what I want. I am an act of bad faith a trying at everything because I am not really ever trying, I am always coning everyone, and I am just starting to realize I drank and got high in this cycle of madness to forget things I did to drink and get high so I could wash rinse repeat. I don’t even feel anything from drugs anymore. The last time I did either one of the ones I used to do, I felt like shit because I have no serotonin and I didn’t have enough of the other thing and whining about something I don’t even want to do anymore because it sucked. I have no interest in any of it, because I don’t but also because it would make no sense to be the person I don’t want my daughter be talking to outside getting the things I don’t want her doing, and she already did it, and I feel like that’s my fault because I was on here saying stupid stuff I can’t take back because she already read it.
I am such a moron.
I love you, Joy. If you read this please don’t ruin your life. You and your mother and my friend are the only thing that matter to me anymore. Please don’t be like me. I am a miserable pathetic jerk with no serotonin. I don’t want that for you. I love you so much. You saved my life. I am so sorry. I am so sorry I was not a better person before I knew you existed.
Please don’t be like me. I am not a good person, but I am trying to be better, because I love you.
Thank you, God.
I am so grateful they went bed. I hate saying this. I hate typing this. I want to get high on a drug that doesn’t exist. I don’t like how any drug makes me feel anymore, but I hate this clawing madness. I hate the demands of everyone around me. I want to be *$%^*&^ alone. I don’t mean in my own head which I share with my friend, she feels the same way. I just am reacting stronger, because she is a pansy.
I want to know how everyone else seems to know what to say, and I always say the wrong thing. I can’t say anything that has the ability to convey what I am trying to say apparently.
I don’t get it. I have the same thing Amanda has because of coincidence I guess. I have said nothing about it because I can’t get a word in edge wise, because I am worried I am going to bite someone’s head off. I wish my daughter and my wife didn’t have phones. I don’t want to hear hey come look at this, ever again. I can’t stand on my leg without it hurting because I used to do stupid things that I don’t want to talk about with my teenage daughter, so no I don’t want to see a video on the internet for the thousandth time. My knee hurts. I took some advil but because I am a drug addict it doesn’t work that well, and I am going to the hospital tomorrow, but its going to still hurt afterwards because I am not taking anything other than a medication to cure the infection, because there is no way I am bringing anything in this %^&**&^ room. I don’t want my daughter touching the things that helped ruin large parts of my life.
Don’t admit defeat in the feet of the street, moron.
I kind of heard that in my head just now I think, but I don’t want to admit that because I am not sure if I am being arrogant, and I am really trying here. I want to be something other than the ranting lunatic that sees nothing but darkness illuminated by little bits of light in the form of the white letters on this screen.
I imagine that these letters represent a chaotic clawing out of the damnation that is my current situation so I can be the helper of my friend who is also me.
I feel like we may have been lost in hell? In an internal hell, of the rage, pride, lust, envy, greed, wrath, and sloth which I always forget because I am vain and sloth makes me think I am lazy……..
I think for the very least my daughter likes me, but I am troubled by that as well because that means she likes and identifies with someone who was involved in really dark things, and it makes me wonder if she is just going to do the same things I did…
If I hadn’t done those things I wouldn’t have exactly her though…. and I like her, so screw it. I am just very confused.
I will stop whining now, and cease embarrassing myself, at least I can log of here and run away if I want to, which explains why I am not doing it because the glitter of escape is only an escape if I don’t look at it.
I suck at committing to anything other than committing senseless atrocities, it was so much easier, but I am going to for once in my life do the right thing, and be a better person because for once my pride is working in my favor. I am too prideful to admit defeat. But wait… is that love or pride.
I think I just got it, if I forgive myself I will not resent myself and keep repeating the same chaotic cycle, and maybe she can learn from my mistakes.
We are standing in a bar
In the back, me you and that guy I used to know with the long blonde hair.
I liked that f*^&#.
I know you did, he was basically you, just less intelligent.
Everyone is less intelligent than you.
You are just complimenting yourself.
I know, isn’t it great.
I thought you were going to spend time with your wife?
I am she is asleep on the couch behind me, my daughter is being punished for the wall incident.
She’s being punished because you kicked a dent in a car?
Yeah, because she should have known I would have done that.
Because what else was I going to do?
Be man and do the right thing.
You be a man and do the right thing.
What be a man or do the right thing?
I don’t even know what the right thing is.
Well it’s not tricking a&^&*%^$ at the bar to buy drinks for you and then getting paid by blonde me in things I won’t mention.
It’s not? Who knew.
You realize we are the villains in every movie that ever movie ever and also the least sympathetic characters ever?
Nope, even the devil deserves sympathy.
Did you just quote the stones?
It’s written on one of Rei’s painted rocks in here, but yes also the band even though only a couple of their songs are good.
I like Paint it Black and give me shelter.
Of course you do, demands are great aren’t they?
Yeah, why wouldn’t they be.
I think I just realized while sitting on my bed while my daughter sleeps in the next room that I am truly insane because I was addicted to my own misery, which I think was just coming in the form of a medication I was prescribing myself in the form of the consumption of certain things I used to use.
What are you saying, weirdo?
That me and you were eating our own death on silver spoons dished out by resentment in a hotel called in Misery?
Isn’t that in a land in callous form?
You mean California?
Either that or in the Simple Rewards that come from those dishing out false hopes through hands of those fleeing asylum from the crimes being enacted to perpetuate Misery through the hands of American’s stealing the joy of those making illicit substances in other countries.
So this is all about drug use and lying to yourself?
Well that and drinking to forget the stress of waiting for the man.
“You guys okay?”
“Yes, sunshine. How was your walk?”
“Good, your daughter saw something weird. A bird was in a cage on the ground, there was no one around, so I don’t think it belonged to anyone but it was in there, screaming to be let out. I think it was sad and hungry and lonely.”
“So when you let it out, did it sing?”
“Yes, and it is creepy when you guys do that.”
“You should tell your daughter, how the caged bird sings.”
“It sings like me, when I am talking to you.”
“Oh, and Amanda you sound like me when talking about your version of Deborah or Diane.”
You mean she who will be revealed later?
Yes, fear itself.
I think both me and Amanda just realized again together that we are delusional psych patients that bring about our own fears by drinking and using out of resentment.
Spiritual awakening number 2, Damien.
My wife likes me.
I wish I had a wife that liked me.
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 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.
We have met others who do what we do, I am studying it as a phenomenon now, they have some sort of ability that involves the manipulation of human beings and the universe. They are all addicts, and I do not know if that is that stupid you associate with those like you crap, or if they are like us because there is something about being an addict that causes us to be able to do this. I feel like I have mentioned this before, but I do not know for sure, because admittedly my memory sucks, and I do not like to admit I have any weakness at all.
I have a hard time making assessments of the reality of what I see because of this, I, in my admitted arrogance, believed and still believe in my ability to manipulate space and time with my hands, that is one of the reasons I take life, aside from being prone to lashing out in fits of rage. I am embarrassed even writing this to you, my unknown observer. I do not like being the kind of person who talks to people, and wonder sometimes if that means I do not like being a human being. I sometimes doubt even that, that I am human at all.
I do not know what that means… I do not know what it means to not believe in my own human body. I guess it just means that I am everything they always said I was, and that for some reason in my wretched existence, I am pathetic enough to not… I am going to stop… I can’t stand hearing myself talk, even if it is out loud while typing to you or sometimes in the ranting chaos that is my own mind.
I am the poke in vain of death. I am Hell’s breath. I am cost of living spent on waters dirtied with poison.
“Bitch, if you move or make another fuckin’ noise!!!!”
I am Satan’s toys. I am destruction through time spent with men of sent from hell. I am a mind-numbing pill. I am the desire to kill.
“Damien, let’s throw her corpse in the river,”
I am sin delivered. I am death sent. I am resent meant.
I am resentment.
We scream for ice-cream. We scream at the faces of the damned, the faces of man pleading and begging for things we are letting them eat till they die, in hell with closed eye, they live waking life riddled with strive, and try with all power to do nothing but devour, every minute consume, every second a tomb is not dug because we flesh of man, we do what we can to make loved ones disappear, we are the universe presenting fear, we are the devil’s lived appearance, we are the idea of occurring loss, we are the idea of cost, we are live down the drain, we are man’s brought pain, we are the human stain.
We are DISDAIN.
D I S D A I N
d i s d a i n
I add sin!
I add sin!
I am contempt that comes from within. I am wrath. I am rage. I contempt’s cage.
I am the is not.
I am s-i-n.
I am the will not be. I am not free. I am the churning of death wrought. I am death sought.
I missed the train back from the city.
One beer and a bag of Raisinets, bought for lunch and dinner,
Causing me be to be late, because
One beer was never enough
So I bought another tall boy
Prophetic in its prediction of what was to draw
Me away from the home I was already late to return to
And the arms that I would go to instead, screaming
“I am a woman in trouble, I am no heroine. I can’t save myself,”…
Wanting for a hero,
I manufactured a situation by accident
That was perfect for a wanted rescue.
A victim of time, more than man,
I remember in that moment, running to make my train,
But, I thought
No I didn’t… didn’t think..
Just did… Just sat.. so far away from the home that was crying for me,