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.
You are everything I do not have, because I have lived of a life of too bad, so sad, goodbye’s, of too high to live, but too sad to try to die. You are everything I never had, becuase I was too mad to put a bottle down, too angry to throw out mixed poison, and now I am stuck in looking back, because for the moment, it is Sunday and I have nothing to do, but think of you.
I am a gasoline fire, made of pained backward reflection, smoke billowing everywhere, anywhere and nowhere, burning embers, burning leaves saved from September, the last time I remember feeling anything other than small and addicted to pain.
She looks like our friend, baby.
Yeah she does, are you done ****ing now?
Yeah, I guess so, at least I have you.
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.
Spent 100,000 grand on political science masters, and then spent 15 years as a petty criminal while developing an unhealthy obsession with women who will never love me because I hate myself and hating them for it, while drinking and doing drugs which made everyone hate me, including making hate myself and then made excuses for why it was everyone’s fault, but my own, while sitting around talking to myself… and pretending myself is my wife…
Hey, ***hole, I am a pers… well, we are the… you are right….
I don’t even want to be this time…
I feel like ****… I want to get high……
Don’t do that to me, I am not going to, I am not going to encourage this…
I know, I know.
I am not quite sure if “normal” people worry as much as I do, or even if other addicts or other mentally ill people do, I worry every second I am awake, but I hate sleep because I am afraid of death, I didn’t know that, and just figured it out writing this. That is a lot of why I am doing this, I wanted to know who I even was. I was so caught up in defending myself against the attacks of my exes, I forgot who I even was, or maybe was never anyone to begin with. I have never been alone for longer than a month, always partners in crime with another drinker/user and always co-dependent on that person vice versa, we always existed in a symbiotic way, fueling eachother’s addiction. The worst was with Rei/Justin. The entire relationship centered around drugs, at least for me, I think they hate me as much as they do because of that, because at one point they really loved me, and the more that I think about it, while I emulated love… I never loved them as much as I loved the person I left to be with them, whose name I won’t say online because she asked me not to.
I am still partially in love with her as well, but she is still using, and I am so done, and she is done with me. She was always able to pay for her habits legally, she has her ways, and didn’t like my less conventional ways, so when she would kick me out I would go get high with Rei, and one day we decided to go to Cali together.
All the music I post on this site is thanks to my ex, the one before Rei. I loved her, stil do so much. She is the most beautiful person I ever met in my whole life, and she doesn’t even know it.
Rei was just as self involved as I am, which was great at first, because it made me feel better, but we were always ego sparing, except she was not willing to walk away at first, I am.
I always was, and it drove her nuts.
I miss California a lot, which is pathetic because what I am saying is I miss my lifestyle in California, I have an adrenaline issue, without something causing adrenaline release , I create problems on purpose to cause adrenaline release, another thing Rei/Justin hated and my other ex loved.
We used to throw glass bottles against our doors at our house, just to have something to clean when we were bored, and wanted to get rid of them before anyone saw them. Oh my god, I miss her.
When I say I miss California what I am really saying is I miss living on the streets and not caring about anything, because I am weak and this is hard.
Even if you don’t believe what I believe, the whole God or god thing, what I will say is this.. for me the reason it helps me is because in the Christian tradition the use of the character or real person Jesus, makes it possible for me to meditate on the idea of someone doing the right thing no matter what when faced with adversity, which is the opposite of what I do, and as much as I say I don’t care, that is the source of all my self-hatred the fact that I know what I should do, and do what I want anyway. That is one of the driving forces behind why I am doing any of this, I got tired of justifying being a bad person. I thought it might be simpler to just do the right thing.
I was always arguing with my higher power about if they only knew they would have done it my way, until it hit me that if I believe what I believe, and I do, then they know what to do because the outcomes have been weighed and the right thing produces the most desirable consequences.
That really bugs me out, and made me have a hissy fit about it, about the lack of the point of everything for decades. I figured that one out at 8. I almost died during nuerosurgery at 8, and grapled with the meaning of life from then onward.
I am tired of myself.
I see no end, to your voice, see no end to no choice,
I hear you in my head, over and over,
Saying things you said, that I ignored, shut you out.
I would at the time rather have lived without
Hearing that you hated me, wished me to know with impunity, but now I wonder, and I fear,
Whether you were right and so my dear,
I am so sorry for shutting out
All words you said, because I live in doubt, had I listened, had I changed, would I still be in such pain??
Would we both be better now? If I stopped using then, had put it down, if I had agreed, done what you said, would I still be alone and dead inside
I am right now. I wish I had something not life without.
I was stupid. I was wrong, and now I wish I just had gone
Along with anything you did or said and maybe I would not wish I was dead.
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 am overwhelmed by the silence right now, a continuous quiet that is the lack of your voice in my head, I realize this now, that a lot of what I was hearing was you, telling me things over and over that I didn’t need to hear.
You were killing me. I didn’t realize this, that you were on a mission to hurt me, and wanted only to hurt me.
You didn’t want to accept that you were an addict too. I don’t get it. I think I should just stop thinking about you, and move on.. I don’t know why I keep ****ing doing this to myself… it’s been a year man of me fighting with you in my head…
I don’t know why I am trying to prove to myself so hard that you were an addict as well. I know you were, so why can’t I ****ing just move on, and say you didn’t love me, and that is it??? I don’t get it.
You moved on and are with someone else now. Why can’t I? Why do I keep doing this to myself????????
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.
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 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..
Am I to be sick my whole life? I know this sounds like me complaining but, I physically feel awful, like usual. I am also speaking for my co-author who is riddled with the same malady as me. I know we deserve this, and I have been told it takes six months for someone with my history to heal in body and mind. I am okay with that, I guess. It is just tough to know this, but then again sick is not the word for what I feel, not well is I guess more like it. I am told it takes six months to not be discouraged by lack of normal in how I feel.
I don’t even remember what I used to feel like when I was normal. I was sick and so was my co-author long before we started using at 13. I have hydrocephalus and a litany of mental illnesses. I think if nothing else I am excited that there is a chance to ever feel normal at all, because I have never had that, and I would love that. It sounds so insanely sanely peaceful.
I am fighting to make that a reality, every second of my life, it is worth all of this, despite my stupid whining. To anyone else doing the same thing, please stay strong you got this.
I want to take a prescription for hypocondria, meaning a cure for it so I looked it up thinking foolishly that there might be a prescription drug for it because I am a drug addict who is lazy and wants easy solutions. Instead of coming across a drug for it I came across the definition which was a kick in the face.
def.-abnormal anxiety about one’s health, especially with an unwarranted fear that one has a serious disease, (dictionary.com).
How can there be a prescription for something if not even a disease?
There can’t be unless you count, go to a meeting at 12.
Addiction is a series disease. The definition makes no sense then.
You think your leg is going to fall off because you used drugs and got staff. That is what you wanted the prescription for. If you think your leg is going to really fall off go to the hospital.
My insurance is not in effect yet.
So you want a sedative to make it so you don’t have to worry until someone can tell you your leg is fine? Our leg is fine.
It’s my leg right now.
I… hate myself. I can’t stop crying. I feel like I want to rip off my own skin. I have this horrible vibrating sensation running throughout my whole body, and I can’t stop crying. I am su.. stuck…. here……. and I… killed her…….. I….. Rei…. What am I going to do, with myself? I am just going to keep jumping from person to person, a vacuous death magnet consuming all that comes close to me, until there is nothing of me left… I wish there was nothing of me left. I just…… I am so…. lonely. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t why…… I don’t know what I wanted……why did I want……..