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.
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.
Characters thus far
Joy
Diane
Damien de Soto
Rei Clearly
POV EXPERIMENTAL ALLEGORICAL POETIC METAPHOR FICTION
First person
Blog post style
Dark horror fiction
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.
It is very clear, I am what I am. I present what I am, that is what I am.
I am a Christmas tree, with photo upside down, I am a Christmas tree, spun clear around, I sparkle with luminance, I sparkle so great, I am a Christmas tree, so clearly, so very clearly.
I am a chandelier, I am a chandelier, it is clear that is what, I am. I am very obviously whatever you call me.
I made this sarcastically for you, and for whoever likes sarcasm.
I am a polaroid.
I am really just annoyed.
No, take that back, I am overjoyed, elated really, because that is how I am supposed to be isn’t it?
I am supposed to have an attitude of gratitude right????!
I prefer honesty right now, and right now I feel like I got screwed by the universe, wrong body, that has emotional issues, hydrocephalus, hormone issues, arthritis, no gallbladder, nerve damage, knee problems, I lost interest in listing these, but believe me it goes on.
I just thought that was a funny title, I like plays on words. I have been in a *****y mood because of chronic pain, from arthritis in my hands, it runs in my family and is made worse by me typing like a lunatic, and also the amputations of the tip of my thumb, part of my middle and index finger, that is due to heroin, meth and alcohol abuse.
I also have had probably 20 revisions of a VP shunt because I have hydrocephalus, so I am getting used to my normal pain level while not doing meth, heroin or drinking. I have never been sober/clean in my adult life, so I apologize for my continuous neurosis, complaining.
Are you a leader or a follower?
I once lead the line in kindergarten, and then never was allowed to again. I lead us outside, instead of to music class, because I forgot about time, and hated music class. I thought I could lead us wherever I wanted to go and it would be time for that class, also I forgot what class we were supposed to be in.
The line split into two factions the rebels who followed me, and maintained my recess delusion, and those who followed the rules and went to music class.
That is an excellent illustration of my lack of ability to follow rules, which I guess in some way would answer this question.
I thought myself to be oh, so joyous and free
Joy us and free, us, meaning me and me
I and I
I I
I am a being with the power of two, I am two people doing as they do.
I am always one in chains.
Hey, not true anymore.
Is it not so?
It is not so.
Free dom
Dom, in Latin means master
Free of master, I am a master of disaster, an acid blaster, shooting acid into my own eye, to make myself, own self, I own myself, cry
Cry, baby, why oh why?
Why did I hurt myself so?
Because you are oh, so very bad at saying no.
What are you doing? You sound like a lunatic.
I, no?
You mean, ‘I know.’
No. I meant, you sound like a lunatic, because you are participating, and I always sound like one, and who cares anyway.
What public figure do you disagree with the most?
I am a card that ryhmes with stump.
I think I was here first, because instead of think, I thunk. When fighting about facts, I don’t stink, I stunk.
I am a leader of the past, but when realizing this I do not, I am in rage, and my face is hot, I know I lost the election, but sometimes I forgot. I know the tense is wrong but I am a child of rot-
Ten I am in my head, but not in real life. I am addicted to screaming, a creature who creates strive, I throw stones, and am up all night. I write on the internet and scream through the night…
Ouch, sounds like me…
I exist beneath you, just like you wanted, residing in the idea of down, I am beneath you, honey. I am just where you wanted me, down here.
I am the idea of down.
I am the idea of on the ground, so low, so so
Low.
Solo, that could be said too, but always beneath you.
I am the idea of too much trouble, because I am really.
What is your career plan?
I am without a dream, my dream died long ago, I mean. I had a dream or dreams once, I mean. My goal or career plan was to write anything and use money I made to pay for my life… didn’t work out to well, well the economy in America crashed, so I drank and did drugs about it.
You really think anything would have been different had you been born at a different time?
Yes, I would have been able to experience adult life before hitting rock bottom.
Okay, that makes sense, and seems true.
I am trying now to start a re-sale business, and find some way, anyway, many ways to write for petty cash.
So lovely, so sweet, you make me so happy, make my life complete. I love you dearly, so completely, would love to kiss your feet.
She was an angel, glowing with light. She was my sweetheart. In her, I did delight. I loved every moment, every dark starlit night. I was so spellbound, caught by her
Biting caustic poison. I hated her face, was always drawn to debase all the she was, my sweet Alice, how much malice, how wonderful you are.
You are such a wonderful human being.
You make everything a dream.
Nothing with you was ever what it seemed
To be. You are no longer with me, and I wish you the best, and I will forever remember you fondly, my empress, of distress.
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.
Obviously.
I know, right.
Not a question?
Clearly, can’t you see?
***hole.
To a morning run, such fun it is in the sun. 😉
I love to excercise my eyes, I love to excercise my I. I like to practice the act of hate, of heated despise. I am addicted to writing poems about hate, if you can’t relate, so sorry.
You are so beautiful, you made me complete, you are so beautiful, so lovely, so neat.
You were my baby, we were never apart. I loved you so fully with all that I had, I wanted to give you everything, wanted nothing to be sad.
You are my lady, my love, oh sweet.
So sorry, it did not work out, I am on the other side of the street.
The grass is greener.
The grass is greener.
The grass is greener.
Too bad. So sad. So, sorry.
Love you, forever, sweetie. I am so sad that it didn’t work out. Best wishes, See Clearly.
You are nothing, ***hole.
Point taken, and proven, so I guess you’re permanent?
I am ever-present, yes.
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.
Me too.
I am begging you to please, bring me to my knees.
Standing is so tiring, I am so sick of bitter firing, it makes me very sick, consumed by my own tomb, even though I have not done it for many a moon, I am transfixed with the past, with drugs that didn’t last, they keep my eyes on sky, under which I did not die.
In my heart and sole, I am dead, because I threw those shoes out a long time ago.
I miss you, so much, so much, so much, my heart is full of rust, and dust, oh angel of must, trust, anything else, anything else, enough to stop, writing love poems to heroin, meth, and alcohol.
When do you feel most productive?
****
That just made me go insane, and then I convinced myself it is because ….. some narcassistic bull****…. so basically, I feel most productive never, absolutely never. I wasted my entire life remember? Oh, that’s right black screen, my hands, the internet, and this is in my head that I am hearing myself read this out loud, I am sitting at the computer, got it.
Yeah, I am going to say never, I know that breaks the rules of the question or something, I am an addict who never did anything with their life, other than spend like 100,000 dollars of my own money over 15 years on getting messed up, so to say I have ever in my whole life felt productive would be a complete lie, that spits in the face of the idea of truth at all.
I wish that damn **** had not resurfaced, both figuratively in my head, and through trying to contact me, and then maybe I would not be complaining on the internet again….
Peace, I failed, least productive human ever.
Hear me out, okay.
Everytime, you would scream and shout, everytime I was without anything you needed to be happy, I would say, if I am so bad, why don’t I just go away?
Why do you demand every time that I stay?
Yes, you still are, but better.
Okay, I will take that.
What is meant is that I am re-sent back, every time you to try to contact me, everytime you try to re-start this, this begins again for me.
What do you want?
You were right, and I was wrong.
You are alright and I am gone, I will stay gone. I don’t like hurt feelings.
Lies.
Okay, well I don’t like her hurting them.
Lies.
Why?
You are not comfortable alone, which is why you talk to yourself online.
I do that because I am crazy.
You do that because you are too lazy to do anything to get better, so you pretend this helps, when it is really you stroking your own sore ego.
Ouch.
I glow gold with your lack of introspection, I am gold like stars beyond lights protection, I dance in darkness, like you cannot, I glitter with sparkle, while you are contaminated with soul rot.
Wow, that was mean.
I know, but that is how I feel about myself.
Wow, that was mean. I know, but that is what I think about me.
You are talking about me too you know.
No, I am talking only to me. I am half of you, remember?
Okay, but you are still wrong.
That just furthers my point.
A flower lays up the stairs across from the kitchen in a flower bed, a flower that I forgot I came from, because I forgot everything comes from somewhere, insane as I am thinking I birthed myself from my own mind.
I talk to flowers sometimes, and to people who are them, and to people who look at them, and to reflections of them, and to people who they are reflected in.
I realize now, how much the flowers know about the sun, and how much more they know than I realize, because their eyes, I’s have be on life the whole time.
How much they know,
because they have lived through other lives with advice to give, and advice, I refused to believe,
thinking my life so interesting and unique, thinking me so clever, when I am not, just really lucky, or maybe not, maybe something loved me, or someone too, and I am I just arrogant, and now see through, my own bull****.
Just, a thought.
I’m not.
You never are.
Not true.
Yeah, I just wanted to see how you would respond.
I don’t know how to respond to that.
I knew you wouldn’t, but I also don’t know how to respond now.
Mission accomplished?
Yeah… I guess so.
I am you, I am you, I am you.
I am talking to you.
You’re talking to me? Are you talkin’ to me?
Yes, I am actually?
Me?
No, me. Not Amanda, but to me.
I am talking to me, through an image of flower’s which I painted like a woman’s face, which I painted like flowers, on and on and on into a chaotic reflection of pure, ego stroking insanity
ahahahhahhahhaahhhahhahhhahhahhahahhahahhahahhahhahahhahahhahahhhahhahahahhahhahahhahhahahhaahahh
I love you person I don’t know, because you are beautiful and glow, with colors of say it isn’t… anyone I met, so you are not dead to me yet, because you simply don’t exist, you are idea of bliss or chaotic death either one because I know I ****, and am horrible at everything so I ruin anything I have and would ruin things with you too, and that no longer makes me sad, because I am
Insane, and engaged in a worship of myself, or with items on my shelf, that I threw out for now because I… actually they got stolen… and it was
Really ****y, but you are really pretty, for a second you make me think of something else,
Heroine, oh Heroin, I love you so,
Heroine, oh Heroin, I wish I could forget you,
And not be writing love poems to a woman who is really a metaphor for how I am a pathetic loser.
Ahahahhah.
He was such a good boy, or so they thought, until they gave him the toy, not just any toy, but the best toy in the world, or what he thought was the best toy in the world.
Roy loved horses, of courses, of courses, anyone would love horses.
Ray loved to bite at its legs, so it had none, like most horses I know, say it ain’t so…. don’t you know? don’t you know? A horse with no legs is no good, so Roy simply thought, that he would bite them off, so he did without a thought, and off they came, and then the toy was lame, and Roy switched to a softer toy, shaped like a sandwich.
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.
Blah, blah, blah, she hurt me so bad.
Blah blah, blah she made me so mad.
Burning fire, rising higher, want to consume something, I focus on nothing on everything, I am not sad, I am simply insane, wanting some to target, target, target, she was a **** her name Margaret, my deepest regret was that I never really met her, not really, just watched her.
From afar, or not that far really, oh friend of a friend of a friend, who am I kidding, I had no female friends really, except my best friend clearly.
You sit in an empty room, friends have gone, you linger on, wishing for those with your desire for a party dead, you turn your head to the corner of the perpetual lurkers, the pained smirkers, reality deserters, wondering were we go so late, how great a party that never ends, we could be your best friends, we party till we are dead. You think this is funny, because you don’t realize I am serious, and that is not fun, but mere compulsion.
We are those who lurk below, where time goes fast and go slow.
We are those who can’t say no, and slowly it has begun to show.
If you want you can come to Hell, where we the consumers always dwell, it is not advised, and you would do well, to leave us where we rot…
We are no longer at a party, baby, we are merely ****ing crazy,
I am pour, pour, poor
I am more, more, more
Such a chore
I am sure
and a bore to maintain
This level of perpetual
Disdain
we drink till we fall down, we get up and continue to crawl the ground, we stand with powder dust, we have lost all ability to trust our senses, we exist in chaotic hell, under poison spell, we eat our souls through bitter consumption of acid bile.
I smile with the power of intoxication and fixation on meditation on the idea of eventual death. I am the quest for lie die fry. I am a funny lie.
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,
Surely, surely,
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 am small
I am weak
I can’t speak
I can’t speak
I am sorry.
I was just kidding, let’s not fight.
My writing is bigger than yours.
I am not you idiot, it’s alright, it’s alright.
Is it really? You’re not mad.
Of course, I am not, not even sad.
I like you really, truly, deeply.
Well, that went smoothly.
Did it really?
Huh?
Your lack of confidence is hilarious.
You sound like me.
I know it’s fun, now I see why you do it to me.
I mean that you were spending a night talking to me, I am not worthy of the air that you breathe.
I was very glad you decided to leave,
appreciated the pipe you had up your sleeve,
not very good idea to use a match….not a very good way to get the stuff to catch or melt I mean… I didn’t care… I was entranced by the glow of the light on your hair, but you didn’t seem all there,
I am so tired of the tragic tweekers
Pretty women, darkness seekers, telling people like me you want something better and hanging out with people like me… so glad you decided to catch your ride and go back to him, I wasn’t worth your time anyway.
How do you use social media?
I am social eyes, I see nothing but the untrue, I see what I project to you, I am projection, protection from rejection.
I am creation of images illustrating elation and creation of dictation of images that are false portrayals of such a perfect life,
Look at me, look at me, I am so very happy and so very free to express myself, so expressive I spend all my life on my phone, because really, I am afraid to be alone.
**** I was talking about myself.
Well, that was fun.
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
Gone
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.
I live in a world of my creation, that is not subject to anyone’s dictation, I am not bothered by any situation because all you are lying and I am
ALWAYS RIGHT.
I know that my dreams which I have all day long every day all day, would never lie to me, because I never give upp on them, they are never ever to be given up, never in a
MILLION YEARS
Even if it brings me
TO MY KNEES
I would never give up on them, that is why I wrote it on my fridge with scrabble letters from a box I stole from a store while I was trying to find things to steal to buy things I didn’t need anyway.
Pathetic
apathetic
energetic
Some other things with ****ing etic, I am bored with it now.
I rotate between thinking, always constantly about things that bring me great joy, because I am a pain worshipper, previous addict of things that made things so much……………..more toxic than they were without them… but for a secondn I….
I am a perpetual war story, of a lunatic who likes to meditate on ideas of DRUGS
That is very unhealthy.
It is your mind too, ***hole.
I am not responsible for anything you think.
You are responsible for what we think, and you are a participant in this conversation.
I am a path that focuses on doing something bad, that makes me oh so very sad, so sad that it is an excuse, please excuse while I do something awful in front of everyone who can see me slowly killing myself, but I am only doing it to me, so I am doing
NOTHING WRONG
Wow, that was harsh, hate yourself much?
That is the thing I hate most in the world.
We are not a thing.
Where do you see yourself in 10 years?
EXPLICIT CONTENT: I am an recovering addict, alcoholic, this is a review of myself, and not meant to comment on the life choices of anyone else, in other words, not meant to hurt anyone, but my own feelings.
What brings you to this dark corner?
Why do you want to walk in the life turned upside down?
You are so perfect, why do you walk on turned over ground?
I have watched many women, who walk through the lands of the damned, wishing for the change of the tragic souls trapped in a miserable land of their own making…
Indicated in the tragic fracture between human beings and the understanding of what they do
Seen here
Miser able
I am the able miser, but I chose to not understand.
I am the miser able, but I chose to break and bend.
I am miserable, I chose to complain and drain.
I am the miserable, into my vein I fire pain.
I am the miser able, I chose to break my heart.
I fire dark or light colored poison without fear that I will stop my heart.
In my veins pumps a poision, poised to bring my death.
I am the miser able, to live in perpetual time theft.
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…
I miss you, person who I thought was real, but what I really miss was never real to begin with, the idea of being loved at all, ever, which was never real at all.
You were not real, you were never who I thought you were, because I was never real, not before now, so this is and has always been, all my fault, which doesn’t matter, but I keep thinking it, that I tragically hurt my own self.. I have a problem with the word feelings, I don’t like admitting I have those.
And now this
Please help me, everything that is above me, because I am done with being angry…
And now this
There is a flower, that exists somewhere, in the jungle, that I need to find, because it will cure a disease of my mind.
I don’t know what is, or what it does, just simply that it exists somewhere and that I am looking for it.
Negativity, negativity, you so very dear to me, so very near and clear to me, so inviting, because I like to bite myself.
This is about crows not dogs.
It is about condescending ***holes too.
Ouch.
Not you.
Okay.
It stopped doing it, and I don’t know what that other happy sounding bird is… it is less intelligent I think…
That was ****ing mean.
I was not talking to you.
I was talking about you being mean to the bird.
You are the speaker of the birds?
The birds speak for themselves.
Not anymore, they are quiet right now.
That is because you are an ***hole.
No, it is because morning is coming to a close slowly.
True.
Eat me.
I made the birds pretty, and now they are singing again outside because like I said it is the end of morning.
Hahahahhahhaha
I met a young person once, who I am not sure the age of, he was strange, he was completely blind, and carried around a walking stick, unable to admit it was because he had gone blind, he told me it was because it had magic powers.
I went with it, because what else was I going to do.
He told me that he could use electricity to make things levitate, and in the chaos of not sleeping for days on end, I almost believed him, crazy the things that lack of sleep do to the mind.
I am a rotating planet,
Not important, just overinflated with air
I am so self-important.
I don’t even care.
To the author, this is a taste of your own medicine.
I am talking to myself.
I am aggressive because I am afraid of myself. I
Fear imperfection because I am in love myself
I am a narcissistic
Per so n on s h elf
The troll lives outside, and is invisible. It is not me this time.
It lurks in everything, in potentiality, for always and forever.
It really sounds like you.
Shut up and go with me.
Okay, fine.
It is under anything that causes
DISCOMFORT
DISCOMFORT
Stop that now.
Good Job.
I now you have a thing about the number three, and you are not divine, so stop it.
Okay.
I am dumb
Look at me
I am dumb
I can’t see
Just spilled soup all over my hands, so obviously that is everyone else’s fault not mine… hahahaahahah.
Guess who is still winning….
Resentment? Pride?
Jab. Ow. You got me. I was trying to talk to you anyway.
I am glad, I was having fun watching you burn yourself, and felt bad about it.
I am an orange, I am a door. I am closed, laughing ripping away orange skin on bare floor.
You have severe issues.
So do you, I am you remember?
I don’t have the same issues.
Yes, you do, I am just not lying about mine.
So you think food and water are poison, and drugs and alcohol help you?
I am making fun of myself, because I realize how flawed my thinking is.
Oh, good one?
Yes, learning.
Thank you?
You’re welcome.
The internet thinks I have a job, that is great.
I have no job, internet.
But, if I did it would be this blog, and helping my friend sell her items, helping my family start a re-sale business, so…
I guess it gave me a job?
Employer-self
Enabled by the world wide web of
Uncrossing the webs of lies of a liar.
Thank you internet, I appreciate it.
I turn on my computer, and open a word file, got mail from myself.
YOU SUCK, and I hope you die.
Schizophrenic email is awesome, so glad I opened it.
JOKE
If something frightening happens to you today, think about it. It may be a warning. It may be The Omen.
The omen
****
There it is, the one word that describes me, blanked out, so I have no idea what it is, and you can guess the mystery behind its four lettered character.
The answer doesn’t matter. Even though the answer is the entire point of answering this question, or is it? Or is the point…. the characterization of a member of society who was before unclear?
Omen.
It’s all for me…
ahahahhahhahhhahahhahhhahhahahhahhhhahahhahahahahhahhahhahahhah
I have OCD, along with the other litany of problems I have already listed here, heh. I got my hair cut, which is awesome because I didn’t have to pay someone in drugs to shave it all off because homeless people can’t cut hair, and I wasn’t so itchy that this would seem like a necessary choice, so yay me for getting my haircut and getting a normal hair cut so I don’t have to shave my head again. That sucked, I think I mentioned the whole mohawk **** thing… but if I didn’t some ***hole shaved my head into a split in half mohawk, and told everyone to look for mohawk ****.
Short sweet, and very fun for mohawk ****. I got a lot of sympathy, and a lot of free items.. and they found out the wrath of mohawk ****. Then mohawk **** needed to leave, because there was a rumor that I had a twin and one of us was a girl and the other was a guy and the only difference was the voice… convenient… till they found out we were both the same person and it was me beating my ass not my twin brother or vice versa… very bad con…
I threw my phone in the river at around the same time because I thought someone tapped it looking for mohawk **** because tricking junkies is a high crime… and people really give a **** about that kind of thing…. or something I thought when I was way too high…
My dad is a really great person, we had a really good time, he was talking to me about his life, making me laugh, and we went to a really good restaurant and I told him I am done with drugs and booze the rest of my life. I also got to make plans with my uncle to see him at Christmas for the first time in ten years, and say I was sorry for being a lying ***hole.
All in all a successful day for mohawk ****, or me with a shorter hair cut that looks nothing like that at all.
Peace
Damien.
Explanation: Shocking, I am trusted to not have to leave, if there is no one here to watch me…
Now this…
Pond, not Stream of Chaos
I am a duck, apparently, because unknowingly
I have been teaching myself to be less
BANG EXPLODE
Like that, so now I can be alone, and not have people
Worry about me, which is
EXCELLENT
Because it also makes me trust me
_______________________________________________________________
I used to be constantly floating from place to place,
In a race with the human race to consume my tomb in the form of drugs and doom and alcohol which I would viciously consume, in doomed ferocious style, in front of all I know
sowing shame and guilt while also showing pain and guilt through vicious attack on self but also on others eyes, making people cry without knowing why because I am selfish. I am becoming not
I think… I guess.. don’t know…
_________________________________________________
I am a duck in a pond, that is just okay enough with me for now, to not drown
I am not going down
Because I don’t want to
Un-spun I am no longer undone.
I am glad to be trusted, un-dusted, still rusted, but dusting off.
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
Maker
Breaker
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.
Facts.
What makes you most anxious?
I named myself See Clearly because that is not what I do, I do not see clearly at all, because my ego it is tall, or it used to be I mean, because I am a liar, a whiner and a wine-r, or not really because I prefer whiskey, or anything that is risky like heroin or meth or how about crack or death? You know things like those, things you stick in mouth or nose, or suck through glass, because I want to die, and that’s not true, what I really aim to do is..
Get the *** away from all of you, because you make me anxious, because you hate me, or maybe I do.. I don’t know… but I feel it when it you look at me please ****ing go. I am telling you go away, **** it! I hate the idea of panic and judgement, I hate you and everything you meant
To say, but didn’t, I can hear you thinking **** it, or maybe that is me? I don’t know the difference…
I guess… it’s me… what makes me anxious is me…
and addiction and lack of control and framed photos of animals in suits..
https://wordpress.com/read/blogs/147335988/posts/14253
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.
What is the last thing you learned?
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.
Peace.
Damien
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.
Here.
Later
Damien & Amanda
Co-dependency is my tendency
It’s not codependency if you’re talking to you, that’s called schizophrenia.
So hard it makes you cry,
Because I am afraid that I will die
If you don’t pay attention to me and you’re me don’t you see.
I am afraid that you don’t and that some day you won’t so I simply must say
I am standing here till you say
Go the &^%* away.
I want to torture you, to make sure everything you do
Is painful, writhing and a broken leg
So that you’ll stay with me and beg
Please don’t leave ‘cuz I can’t walk, I am so bored, so please can’t we talk?
I need to hurt you don’t you see
I am codependency.
No you’re not your me
I’m you
You are lying and fool
You speak of nothing but pure folly
I am done being melancholy
So come and sit down and please be nice
I don’t need to fight or engage in vice
We can simply talk and not argue or cuss
You do not need make such a fuss.
The title of this post is telling me that it is a grammatical error, but it doesn’t know what I am talking about I guess.
This will be a good one.
I am becoming someone who doesn’t exist. I am in a state of becoming something.
I’m sitting right here.
In a parallel universe.
In a universe that would have been yours if you had been honest.
I don’t think I want to go around killing women.
Neither do I.
You don’t anymore.
I never did, I just did it because I didn’t know what else to do.
So you decided to kill women?
I was just mad at them for being happy being whatever it was you hated being so much. I was killing them so it would make you happy?
You thought I would be happy with you offering me sacrifices of dead women? Like a cat that brings dead women instead of dead mice?
That was actually funny. I was just having a hissy fit, and it was uncalled for.
That’s a really level of remorse for committing multiple atrocities.
Noted, I’ll write it down.
I am deviant creature, I pretend to be a great teacher, I speak through the addict as preacher, I am of infernal design because I am not kind and write of the peril of men and women like me, because I am the blind one I cannot see that who I am undoing is me. I am going insane, merely documenting my brain, and its moral decay.
I live in a world with fake creatures, yet pretend to be a learner and teacher, while pretending to reflect, sit back and reject that the person I hate gets clearer and clearer with every look in the mirrored reflects of me seen in my work. I am a developer of murk. I am also an arrogant jerk, who is obsessed with themselves and creating this hell that I pretend to use to make points even though I still am conjoined
In my heart and my soul with resentment. I am not that far from those of who I speak, I have the same soul and cannot teach anything to anyone because I stopped just because it was no longer fun.
Damien to whoever is writing my story.
Ps. I can only speak in letters, sorry.
I am on my knees for you
Begging, baby, please tell me what to do.
What do you need from me? I only desire to be
Everything you need, with every step I take, planned with precision
To do what you say. I desire only for you not to go away, for then where
Would that leave me? How would I get what I need? We are a team, inhaling
Shared steam, and dreams of the same GODDAMN DREAM!
No kill or damn it I am leaving, it is me who you have been deceiving…
This is all about you…. everything you do.. I am present in nothing….
BITCH! SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH OR I WILL RIP OUT ALL YOUR TEETH!!
I am misery’s wreath. I am a decoration of pain, I live in utter disdain, but I have an addicted brain, that thrives on the drugs, that with his hand he shoves in mine. I am not a murderous type, I am simply addicted to strive. I am a consumer of poison and poised for any fight. I need what you gives me you see, and if you
MAKE ME SET IT AGAIN I’LL SHOOT OUT YOUR KNEES!
Misery Loves Their Own Company 