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.
With re-touch I touch things I love, it makes me feel something, like for a second, for a moment, I am above, my life, and have some kind of power, over my powerlessness, for one hour I am no longer less, and life is sour, I feel less devoured, even if it is just for one hour.
Over and over, I admit to being beyond you, that is what I am told over and over, I am supposed to do, but what about my happiness, am I to be forever constricted and forced to be up all night?
Please to everything that is higher than me, I desperately want to find my place in life, where I can be doing something to help bring about my independence, and helping others in some way while doing this, please help me find this?
I don’t know how else to do this, because it is always hard for me to even hear myself think. I am not writing this for selfish reasons, I am writing this on here to you because I really need your help, I am so sorry, I am so sorry that I resented you my whole life, I am so sorry. I know now that you are not responsible for the negative things that happened to me.
Please help me, please help me find peace and independence, I will do anything I am supposed to, please help me. I just want to live a peaceful life and stay clean and sober. Please help me. I am having a really hard time.
I counted the amount of days in my life since I was 13. That is all.
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.
The ocean a place of dark meditation, because of my continuous situation, which is no longer continuous, but was percieved to be, because of me percieving anything that was dark as continuous, continuing forever.
Do you see stardust when you look into the sky?
Do you see so clearly it makes you cry?
What did you see when you stood with her?
Did you see clearly or did you see blur?
What made you so sad when you looked up at night?
I was hated myself, hated the light.
I spent a lot of time, screaming while viewing you, screaming with no one, into nothing, while looking at myself reflected back at me, into my own face, into the wind which always shot back at me….
I am now seeing,
That I was always screaming at me.
I was angry at me, for being there alone because I hated me, not any of you,
Not any power
In the sky
Just me, always, but not forever
I hated me… the whole time.
I am watching TV with my family, well taking a break from it for the second, to write to you, whoever you are. My family being my real one, not the one I lied about.
I am sorry for that. My friend told me that honesty is important. I think I was making myself worse, but I am really sad, and I wanted to have something so bad I made it up, and then ran out of things to say about it, because I stopped needing it, which means I am getting better I guess… I have started helping my mother, with starting a business reselling things, I am going to start going to therapy. I have friends now… I just go back and forth, and fantasy is a way for me to escape. The thing is I have a hard time with the whole powerlessness thing. I don’t like it, but someone I know was telling me just being honest with myself helps. I think that this is where I should start. My friends thought it was funny that I found it easier to pretend to be a serial killer online, than to say I am an alcoholic/addict in recovery.
I just have so much rage at those who took advantage of me at the very end, that it was easier, making myself into some sort of masked avenger. I am not that, I was just and am just an angry lunatic with drug and alcohol addiction who disowned their family to live on the streets and commit petty crime to fund my addiction.
That is it plain and simple. I will reveal more in poetic metaphor because I am paranoid because I have mental problems.
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.
It is so quiet in my head, in this place, in my life right now, and while I feel more alone than I have ever felt in my entire life, I also feel more free than I have ever felt in my life. I am so done with killing myself over my past. I realize now that is what always destroyed any attempt at happiness before for me.
Amanda had a Rei Clearly, he is her ex as well now, and a lot of what you saw me go through was what she went through with him as well, she is afraid of him, so personal details about him are very limited at the moment, and will be divulged as she sees fit through herself or me on this site which now belongs to the two of us, as Rei is no longer going to be around me and has no contact with my child because she is not her biological mother, and I am not going to allow her to do what my child’s real mother did to her. I am not letting anyone mess with my kid anymore.
This includes myself. I am going to try to be a better person now, think less toxic thoughts and help my daughter live a better life than I did, which includes keeping her away from toxic people who talk about my drug use in front of my daughter who just did the same drug, which I blame myself for her even thinking about using.
The eerie nature of the universe baffles me, I was with my family and we happened to pass this place where I used to work, and there was a bookcase on the side of the road, we moved it and took it back here because it is beautiful and the guy who was moving it was happy to get rid of it, he was just a worker doing it for pay, he didn’t realize that we knew the dead person it belonged to, I knew the kids mother. I wish the poor kid was still alive, man. I wonder if he did it on purpose… sometimes addicts do that, as a softer way to commit suicide, or I wonder if he just did too much by accident.
I just found out that it was accidental, my family was telling me that the kid slipped up and did what a lot of us do and tried to do too much and died of an accidental overdose. I am so sorry he is not here anymore, if nothing else now I have a reason to not get high staring at me all the time. He was my age.
That is so sad.
Okay, I am done feeling like ****. I am done ******* and moaning. I feel like a jerk. I get that I am supposed to, so I am going to start doing things so I am not just hanging out in this room whining on the internet anymore.
I am still going to do that too though. I don’t care, it helps me.
I didn’t kill anyone today. I just slept most of the time since I was last on here.
I think that’s good.
I don’t know how long I was sleeping. I don’t look at the time stamp on this thing.
I think tomorrow will be better.
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.
As much it pains me to do it I have to say, that writing out my personal demons helps me preform a sort of soul cleansing. I feel awful about all the things I have allowed happen in front of me, and I hope that my method is not too terrifying for at least certain people. I am just writing what works for me to stay sober every day. I am still the same selfish addict and a lot of this is
FLASH NEGATIVE FLASH POSITIVE
Talk. I am sorry to anyone who is disturbed by it.
I am in the process of working towards being a better person, and I am still an abrasive ****.
I realized I answered this wrong before, so like I usually do, making everything about my whole look at me I was homeless, and unique ****. I hate when I am a millennial stereotype blaming everything for my ridiculousness, and I think my last post personified the bad attitude of my entire generation, which is why I re-answered as above. This question was not another opportunity to provide some sort of lamenting about resentment and my past and whatever…
I put the above because
I can’t see clearly without them. I can’t see anything clearly with them anyway, but it is even worse without them. I am even more self centered when I can’t see, because I don’t have to pay attention to anything I don’t want to focus on.
This gives me the ability to construct my own reality which I am great at doing, and I am making every effort I can, to stop.
It is important for me to maintain eye contact to not distance and alienate myself through constructing illusions to hide behind, the glasses humanize people because they make me realize they are human beings, and important because they have eyes.
Like I said, I was being a **** using the strict definition of live on purpose as an arrogant I am better than everyone gesture, which kicks no one in the face but me, screaming at the top of my lungs I am better than you because I have suffered more, is stupid, and helps no one.
This computer is providing me with the ability to process this stuff and forcing me to have to look in the mirror, when I am being an *** and be accountable for what I say, by it not being able to be erased by a bad memory or my own stupid excuses.
It has helped me realize things that I would not have realized without it.
I am truly thankful for all the interaction on this site in particular, that has saved my life. I owe this site a lot, and by that I mean Word Press.
3. I put the book because meetings are not an object and the book helps me a lot too, when I can’t get to meetings, this is to serve as a mental note as well, because I have to buy another one, I burned mine. For survival, while in the woods, drinking whiskey… so I lied because I was being a jerk.
Too bad it took me countless atrocities to figure that out, thankfully I didn’t lead my friend through the same moral decay I had to experience to come out the other side. I am stronger, so I took the bullets for her and used them to kill her enemies, actually I like slicing a lot more than bullets, they make sound and I am a wimp that is scared by loud sounds, it’s really funny in a dark way, seeing someone shoot someone and then jump and almost shoot themselves in the foot, which I haven’t done yet… thankfully.
I may have to though, use a gun in my universe of metaphor, but to protect my universe until we merge con·scious·ness, I don’t know how to spell that word either… oh poetic irony… how I love myself… gross….
I think its awesome that… wait wow..
We just actually merged consciousness for a second… see me spell you right now word…
It was cool for second I was three places at once,
past, present, future, no there aren’t more invisible jerks..
That was kind of like… other things.. %^&% my knee and staff infections… which is really ^%$& me and my use of things that sting my soul.
Bee stings should be avoided because my soul writhes in agony, not in the a religious sense, but in a mini-death nietzsche kind of way…. can’t spell that word either…. and I don’t care about capitalizing names that are not my own… oh and bang. This came up when I looked that up.
“He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster.”
I am so happy I remembered parts of that right now, not just for the ego points, but it means something to me. I think I am in the process of becoming a person instead of the monster under Amanda’s bed which means the instead of chasing dragons, Amanda can be me because I am not a drug or a dragon anymore.