The swimming of dancers that dance by being, just being, not asking, just being, inspires me.

Beings that don’t ask, don’t question, just are, is a lesson, to me, who asks, who shouts, who screams, who doubts.

I hear people say, that animals are atheists, but what if they are not, what if they know things so innately, that they look unbothered, because they do not question things they understand, because they just understand them.

I wish to be so wonder filled and free, that I fly or swim, without thinking, maybe if I pretend my thinking will change.

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I am happy today, and thank everything higher than I ever was, that there is justice in the world, that I am finally beginning to see, now that I am not ****ed up. I am glad they caught this ****. This has always scared the **** out of me.

Photo by Jordan Benton on Pexels.com Clock’s movements quietly advance Calendar pages keep turning Realizing now, time so precious Yesterday, never returning   Today, now galloping away Each moment quickly discarded Vanishing minutes tearing up Uncertain time left unguarded   Tomorrow arrives much too soon Yesterday feeling incomplete Searching for one more treasured hour Empty […]

Time So Precious — Big Sky Buckeye

Thank you for your inspiring words, they keep me going, I was having a hard time over the last few days, and you keep me going in the right direction. This post is the only way I know to say thank you.

https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/79388113/posts/4614419509

Explanation: I have been receiving messages from something my whole life, and thought it to be schizophrenia that was causing it. This is my receipt for a transmission from something higher than I ever could be, I am trying to listen to you now, I am not good at it, be delicate with me, I will try my best.

On etymonline.com, which is rapidly becoming one of my favorite websites, it receipt is to be understood as being

‘”written acknowledgment for having received something specified’” (https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=receipt), or what I am about to do in this post.

I have been receiving information, somehow from something that is not me. I am inspired to write all the content on my site, something inspires me, it talks to me in my dreams, in my racing thoughts, sometimes audibly, sometimes in my regular thoughts, sometimes in other ways, it is telling me to write this down right now.

It changed the meaning of this post from what I originally was going to write about. I am its hands right now, and I am trying through meditation, to be good hands. I have been bad hands before, that is why I am missing fingers, part of my thumb for the times when I used it to steal, part of my index for lack of index, and part of my middle for rage. I am trying to let my higher power guide me now, this is my receipt, saying message received.

I do not speak of any specific being here, I am not subscribed to a specific creed or religion. I am saying that something higher than me, sometimes talks to me and I have no idea what it is, but message received, oh and end transmission.

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.

https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2023/03/20/your-daily-word-prompt-Wound-ydwordprompt-March-20-2023/

Warning- I use poetic metaphor to illustrate intense feeling of dual diagnosis addict/alcoholic dealing with manic/depressive symptoms during break-up. I used bleeding out as a metaphor here for pain in recovering from the breakup and it is graphic, if triggered turn back now.

I am lying on a beach, in my head, because it is winter, and bleeding out, of a wound that is not literal, but in my heart, my soul, my mind, bleeding all the time, dying over you, my ray of light. I loved you with every fiber of my very fragile being, and I am admitting that because I finally realize I need to, to stop bleeding out of my soul. I am doing this to save my life, because you cut my soul so deep, I thought I would die, without you, and that can’t be true, but in the moment, I felt it so strongly so deeply, an aching, pounding sickening vomit inducing ache that penetrates everything I am and makes me have to violate everything I have ever believed to be strength to scream on here in pain to save my life, I am so hurt. I need someone to hear me, and this page hears me.

I want so bad, to have what I never had, what I imagined, so vividly it seemed real with you. I was stupid, I am insane, and somehow I made you out to be, everything I wanted, and I don’t know how I convinced myself that is who you are, when you just wanted items and money and confidence from me. I hate myself so much for being so stupid, but writing this makes me realize if nothing else at least I am not you, at least I tried to be kind, and I would never do to you what you did to me. I am healing through the realization that while wounded and crazy sometimes, I don’t want to hurt anyone like you hurt me, so I will keep going and stay clean and sober and hope one day I will find peace.

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.

Yours,

Damien/Amanda

I am in the process of reviving myself, from a life spent dancing with death.

I spent my life dancing with this bone-handed, harsh, squeezing binding reaper,

It’s hands holding ever so tightly to mine, feeling the hard bones of what I would eventually become, pushing into my flesh with a claim on my living body, making it belong to death before its time.

I have been asleep most of my life, pacing through madness, sleep-walker unconscious, but I am not this. I am not asleep, and have responsibility for all that I do not see, talk to, experience, and participate with… in a life that has always been mine.

I am a closed eyed human, not blind, not asleep.

I was a closed eyed human, but the shoulder taps of kindness, of kind strangers, are waking me up.

Thank you for preventing me from falling down the stairs… again… I might do it later, but I am awake for now.

I just got back from hanging out with my dad, and it is cool how different things are now that I am trying to makes things right, I talked to him about all the chaos that I caused, continue to cause because I am prone to delusions, and how sorry I am. I noticed that saying things like this keep me from drinking, keep me coming back to a place, where I can stop beating myself up and are making it possible for me to walk out of the woods where I kept taking the wrong path on purpose and falling in random holes because I thought I was going to find secret gold in rocks I found on the ground.

I think the metaphor for drug addiction and eating rocks and drinking poison instead of doing the simple thing of eating food and drinking water is hilarious. I can’t believe how much my thinking has changed. It’s funny I was convinced everyone is out to get me when this is more true…

Them

Meth

Same word re-arranged…

Item

Time

Same word re-arranged.

Heroin

Hero in pushed together it forms a drug

Divided it references a hero in me

Heroine with an everlasting e it makes me a hero for saving my own life.

Funny right?

What activities do you lose yourself in?

I am very back and forth, a torrent of pain whirling around in a sink, that I kept pulling the stopper of, and I would let parts of me flush down it, not realizing that I don’t get them back.

I pulled the drain over and over, chopping off pieces in my madness, I would let parts of me fall into the sink of destruction watching as I slowly disappeared and using it as an excuse to drink or go soo…….

High into the sky, I felt lost, but free, but I got stuck up there, so high up there.. floating.. in nothingness..

I with real eyes, with non-blurred vision now, that the state of elation I was looking for, was inside me all along, I get the same high now, sometimes, when I am not doing poorly, and I frequently am, but I am trying.. through this, writing to you, imaginary person, and I love you so much for saving my life.

I don’t always remember this, in my cycle of drain life, but I remember it enough for it to be a small way to get out of the drain.

I can still talk to you though we exist not in the same dimension, all the time at least, I visit you because I see you, you see me and you speak and I hear you because I listen. I listen to everything, to the mutterings of the under spoken word, to the shouting to mad dark night, to the words callously yelled into chaotic dark night, because they used to consume me, but they don’t anymore, because I realized I can cast them out on here.

I travel back and forth to Misery through my mind, and through others, who I see, stuck there, and they speak to me from there. I can see it in them speaking to me, speaking through them now, this came to me last night after a dream, I have been having strange dreams.

I am thinking that ghosts sometimes just want to be heard and are not used to being heard so say thing that they have always wanted to say very quickly and it is up to me to decode them because the universe is showing me them and them me for a reason, positive being the key over negative.

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 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.

Begin simulation.

GO.

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.

Okay, fine.

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

This is the reason for my anonymity.

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

Damien/Amanda.

Imagination to transcend Misery into the multiplicity of joy.

I think I am just so glad I can still talk to you.

Addict.

Loser.

Not nice.

I love you.

That’s gross.

Is it gross to love yourself?

No, it’s not.

How is Rei?

That’s how you center yourself isn’t it.

Yes.

She’s watched this movie with Joy and we are waiting for doordash.

Us too, minus me watching a movie.

Minus me watching a movie too. I don’t watch movies, because I am a cat with no eyes.

I should have looked in the mirror when I was you, because I have no ides what you look like.

I looked in the mirror as you and you look like an @#%&*().

I still need you by the way.

You are my friend, you still are, no matter what.

I still like you then.

I still like me too.

I just remembered you have longer hair than me.

I know Rei likes it.

That’s gross.

Not everything is a weird innuendo.

I know. I just thought it was funny, and my hair is not that long.

It’s longer than mine.

Yeah, well my hair cooler so it’s longer.