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.
Kiss me, baby.
Kiss me with sun, kiss me with act of spinning, spinning, un-spun, re-wrung.
Who were you then?
Who are you now?
I am swirling chaos, I am up and down.
Do you see time?
Does it see you?
It is present in all things you do.
I am a negative, I am an item.
I am time, the world re-arranged.
I am strange.
I am earth shattering negative of a world that glows in the dark, the beauty of night in light that is stark. The call of night bird, or hooting of owl, the howl of a coyote, or looking far south, I am looking away from star, and light of the moon, I am the coming of deep and troubling monsoon. I am the coming of winter, felt always and never.
I am the act of swimming while remembering December. I am the act of continuing in time that moves on, I am a song, I am droning on and on.
In them I see you, inherent in everything they do, being so seperate from me, so much closer to divinity, so much higher than I could ever be, please bring me closer to you, I have been silent, because I began to use my hands to serve myself, selfish and self-seeking, please take them back, to serve you.
I am looking at the light, and seeing a picture painted before me, with I highlight, painted places I see you in it, I see you, not them, but you in starlight, thank you for reminding me who you are, being, that paints the night sky with luminance, thank you for being there, for those with downcast eyes.
You are the maiden, of a sunny day, the woman with a face of the sun, from which I couldn’t stay away, with eyes so bright painted with brightness imbued in your entire form, casting out of your skin, as if the sun was crying over the seperation between it and you, inherent it was in everything you did, everything you do, oh to be one with you, but I am just a person on land, and your brightness, I cannot stand, being one of a damned mind, that is unkind, and so very unlike you, everything you do, being filled with such bright light, almost seeming, like it came from the eyes of something much higher than I have ever seen.
Renee, Renee, Renee, for you, I am blind, for you I cannot see clearly, for you I sound like a madman, ranting about nothing at all.
Renee, Renee, Renee, what more can I say?
Surrounded on both sides, by the all consumingness of you, I look out into nothing, and see only lack, my soul in perpetual attack, under the spell of don’t look back, and look down and vomit with sound of
ACK. Cough. Cough. I am human eating from chaos’ trough, I eat drugs and don’t come down, I star out into the lurking nothing, reflecting back on pain that I stuff into
The gaping hole, that I have inside my soul, it rips and tears and eats the idea of me whole. I am reality bought and sold, I am bell of death ringing, I am a toll,
Unpaid, unpaid, unpaid.
I am gate to HELL,
You are the idea of HELL
Idea of being UNWELL
OF PAIN THAT IS SWELL
AND SWELLING AROUND MY SOUL
OF DEATH CONSUMED BY UNPAID TOLL
Laid, laid, laid, and
Opening, opening, opening, and staying
Extended into the opening, opening,
Blue, and black nothing, I am the idea of you stuffing stuffing, into the the whole hole of your soul, the teddy bear full of NOTHING.
How do you like it when I do it, mother****er??? Do you want some sweet candy?
You make me sick.
Do you want some sweet candy?
Living with you is sick.
Do you want some sweet candy?
You make me cry.
Do you want some sweet candy?
You are a poke in the eye.
I am done with you, hate everything you do, if one thing is true, it is that life with you is Hell, and I will tell you this the only way you understand, if it is the last thing I do, I will get far, far away from you.
You can’t. I live in the same house.
It is a human body, you *****.
I know, which is even better, you are stuck with me, forever.
Color me with re-touch, paint it on thick.
I am so happy, I am elated, I am hapiness, I am instated.
You amuse me, baby. You make it all clear, in the continuous light, there is the death of fear.
In the darkness, there is the smallness of men, in the light men can pretend.
I am the act of courage defended.
I am happening, I am walking, I am talking, I am man experiencing joy.
I am selfishness, I am madness, I am a toy.
Darkness, darkness, I am mad, darkness, darkness makes me sad.
Cry for me baby, make me go crazy.
I am the toy of madness.
Madness. Madness. Mad nest
Nesting, nesting, nesting
All the birds
Big and small
The arrogance of man destroys nature to make a land of joyous elation.
The birds are displace, squirrel’s home are erased, and perpetual light is found.
I am children screaming loud.
Click. whir, clack, bang, boom, vroom.
I am a magic act.
Entertain me, please.
I am so entertaining.
I am arrogance.
Look at me. Look at me. Look at me.
She is obviously disfunctional in some sort of way, because she begins laying on my floor, after hearing that she has my heart, coming from someone who has known her for two hours, which is not possible for most. For me, in a way, it is. I will forever remember her like this. Her laugh sounds like someone breathed perfume into a blue balloon. She is the birth of day after a storm, she is the eighteenth birthday of a troubled child. I love her truely, deeply, as much as you can love anyone that you just met. Her name will not be mentioned, because she is a real human being, that I dated for 3 days when I was 18.
They were the best three days of my life, she broke up with me, because she realized I had not lied to her, when I told her I was insane, which screamed at me, while throwing everything I gave her in the three days I was with her right at my face. She wanted to see me cry, she didn’t get to. I got drunk instead, I sometimes feel like I had been drunk until this year, wasted away from the memory of her. She has such a unique name, too bad it will never be revealed online…
She looks for my writing online sometimes, she has written to me since then, and I always pretend it is not me, because she really hurt me, if I am being honest…
I am not capable of what she wants, she says I am, I assure I am not.
We are sitting on the beach, she tells me to look at the sunset. I am staring at my shoes, thinking about being underwater. I am not completely aware that she is still actually there, she might be a hallucination. I have not known her that long, and don’t remember how we met, she makes me nervous.
She tells me to look her in the eyes. I don’t like looking at people. I am awful at direct eye contact.
I tell her there was once a study done about hallucination and direct eye contact. She asks if I am hallucinating now. ****
How do I always end up doing this?
Did he give you the cold shoulder?
My icy shoulder warms for you.
You are really creepy.
I am not, she warms my shoulder, with her nice eyes.
I touched your face with vanity, the loving glow of insanity.
She was perfect and you put make-up on her.
I like to ruin the things I admire.
It makes them insecure like me.
Women are not things.
Oh, yeah right.
You are such an ***hole.
I met you and began to think instantly of the holy trinity, not because of anything to do with religion, but because you seemed to me to be so divine there appeared to be three of you.
I had always questioned my ability to be like those who looked like me, and you affirmed every doubt I had, because I did not envy you, but wanted only to be someone you wanted, and you wanted someone the opposite of you.
I am not the opposite of you, but I am not sure what that means, because I am not what I am either. I am nothing, I think. I am constantly changing, reflecting only the light of other’s saving grace. I am in a place of constant lostness, at least when staring at your face.
Color me rainbow
Color me dark
I am forgetting where I start, and
Where Hell ends, looking instead at the ends of your hair, I am not all there.
I should not stare.
I am tragic hole in a human’s soul.
Will of the phoenix, will of the gods, flying so brightly, fighting all odds, you smash into nothing, you fight cold hard truth, you smash into everything, you are my youth, you have no mercy, you were a toy, you were elation, mixed with bitter attempts at joy.
I am a ball of writing agony, I am forever sad to see you go, say it isn’t so, so sorry, oh so sorry, to have to say no.
I long for you badly, think of you in mourning, I wish I was back when I was thoroughly enjoying…
Anything but this, anything but this, please bring me, anything but the sensation of perpetual hit and miss, I am no longer anywhere, anywhere at all, distilled by lack, and oh, so self-involved, I meditate on something, that wasn’t even my past, on an image of success, when I am flea bitten with lack.
“Oh, think twice, ’cause it’s another day for you and me in paradise”
I can stay, I can stay, which is insane I have to say, but who cares, I think if nothing else, the fact that I am insane has become very a parent… ahahahhahhahha.
Macbeth, Macbeth, I am part of my own soul’s death, I am the death of the part that is killing me, I am victor in a kingdom of a Misery, which is my own body, or ours, sorry Amanda, I don’t know what to call you anymore.
That is because I am basically you now.
So when I am talking to you am I just talking to me?
Well, how do I know the difference?
You don’t, neither do I, it happens all the time remember?
Yeah, actually now I do.
Are you done with her?
So it was me obsessed with her?
Yeah, I think so, she was something about self-image, which I think is you not me.
Aren’t we the same thing though?
Yeah, but you are more ego driven because you are newer and on defense mode.
So, I have a built in excuse for being an ***hole, excellent.
No, I am serious, I do not know how to use a new computer really.
I call all streaming services, the streaming. I have been under a rock for 15 years.
I accidentally set the background to this woman who looks like she is looking at me with this crazy smiling face, which is basically just a normal happy face, I am assuming, but for a lunatic, it looks like she is smiling at me in this eerie way that says I hate you and know you are thinking about whiskey.
How dare you enjoy life? I cannot, I am addicted to strife, or to strive, or to striving or to seeming
So so so
That sounded insane.
I know. Isn’t it great.
I actually did think it did, you just gross me out.
I know, because I am your own self-love, or the rabid dog version of it, which is a funny way of saying narcissistic personality disorder.
I am married to myself.
Look at me, as I talk like two different people who are divorced.
Dancing sirens at the ocean.
Make me think of my devotion, to nothing but myself.
Ouch, I burned myself.
That is really ****ing accurate.
That is why people thought I was your ex-boyfriend.
You kind of are.
I don’t really know.
Me neither. I think I would be your ex-husband not boyfriend.
Hahah. The ring of power.
You never are.
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.
I am cemented in the memory of my author, I am cemented in the creator of this image, I am cemented by the creator of this image.
In cement it lay, and forever will it stay.
I am covered over, an image protected and rejected by protection, destroyed by idolization, a picture of objectification, a picture of self-love.
Are you sure that is not just what you are seeing because you project yourself on your interpretation of it?
I am correct.
I am an attack on human soul, by protection of image which in fact eats everything whole, creating the potential for the whole image to become a hole.
Manilla, Manilla, in Vanilla, Vanilla, now just a stain on my brain, you make me insane.
I don’t think the image…
I know, just rambling because I like to hear myself talk.
You are typing.
I am also whispering this to myself, because I am insane.
I am allergic to cookies, which is really my way of saying I am allergic to feelings.
You have such pretty eyes
Oh, pretty flower.
I like woman’s hands, staring at them makes me happy, so happy that I forget where I am and dream about things that make me feel like I am somewhere else.
She makes cookies, that taste so sweet, she makes cookies, she is neat, she makes cookies, and I am not there, because I am an ***hole.
I am busy, I am outside, I am too busy, not trying to hide, I simply like to be outside, and find things that make me high.
I am about the past. I am about the past. **** it. I am about the past. I am writing this instead of getting high, because I love my family, so instead of getting high I decided to…………………write this insane… whatever you call it.. satirical roast of myself, do you like roast chicken, here is a roast of a chicken, written by a chicken, for a chicken, for me, it’s all for you, self.
I am the omen. I am the omen. I am the omen.
I think I would be happier like this, completely alone, talking to myself as my partner.
Hey, isn’t that what we are doing now, and doesn’t it ****?
Than what the **** are you talking about???
That I am insane, and don’t know what else to say, and I am trying to make someone laugh, even if it is just you?
So you are talking to yourself on a blank screen, trying to type things that make you feel good about yourself?
Yeah, isn’t that what the book of faces is???
I don’t think anyone on that thing is looking in a mirror talking to their own face as if it is another person?
They aren’t? That is what it looks like to me.
That is because we are insane, and it is not what they are doing, because they are not insane.
For us or them.
Well, mostly them.
Why?? Not what I expected to hear…
Because, we never have to be truly alone.
Or, we are always more alone than anyone ever.
Other than maybe Gollum on Lord of the rings.
I just was talking to my Dad, about the ideas that I have expressed thus far on this site, and we both talked about what I think was revealed to me by the powers that be, or the powers that govern my existence because I believe in them, which is why I say often that people are free to believe what they want, and that I don’t mean to preach or say anything to dictate the beliefs of others.
I believe in what I believe in and it governs me because I myself assign meaning to it. I have placed a lot of faith in the universe punishing people for selfishness, and then done exactly what I think should be punished, insane right? I know.
I am going to stop self fullfilling my own damnations now.
Clearly See, See Clearly
Sight in the middle of Chaotic Self Assertion.
I began training my dog to help me with a personal mission. I wanted to hunt wild boar. It was not just for me, but for her so she would stop chewing on my leg and her leg, because I was paranoid she wanted to eat mine, so I thought maybe she could eat a wild boar’s leg instead.
When I am lucid, I know that she never had any intention, of chewing off anyone’s leg,
Not mine, not a wild boar, not hers
I just thought of this because I am
I have a functional brain that works most of the time, but sometimes
And there is no fear in me to admit
Anymore, because I have realized that the
I had was in my failure to admit things, not in admitting them or making them into other things, in creative metaphor to slay like metaphorical dragons, I was just experiencing
And I am no longer
Or have to roll around in
Because I cast out these metaphorical demons on a black screen.
I am your admission that your guilt is real,
I am your recognition that your dragons represent guilt erected into a false sense of pride and shame blame that explains why you
But I am also your strength in admitting this and
Casting it out.
I am an inner demon, I am a deep seeded hatred, I am a future projection,
I am what you feel, I am who you are, I am who you are in the process of seeing
I am you. I am fighting you
To be real
Because you are an addict addicted to the things that make me
Making you unreal with a desire to un-feel.
Explanation: Fictional life of future self, because I am hurt, broken, and need fake reality to love me, more than I love myself. I am so alone right now, I need fake things. I am sorry.
I have been debating how to present this, now that I have revealed it again as fiction. I am an adult with paranoid schizophrenia, who created Misery for me as a reality that I exist in as future me, with my daughter Joy. Fiction or my hopes and dreams.
I am so glad you gave me this back Amanda, thank you.
Sometimes we need to do things for ourselves that may not make sense to others, take it or leave it.
I am sitting on my floor in a place that was given back to me. I am alone, but it is coming back to me..
I feel like crying because thank you, god. Let me just think about this because it makes me feel better. I am so sorry it does, it is lies I tell myself because I am so alone.
In this universe… I have people, or one, not no one.
I need that… I am sorry.
I am sitting on a floor in my house and transported back to Misery now.
I can pretend she is the next room if I want to. I don’t want to be alone anymore, please don’t let me alone anymore.
Misery Loves company.
I am sitting in a motel in Misery, crying on a dog bed, and my daughter is the next room, because I am insane and need this to be real but fake but real but fake. ____________________________________________________________________________
I have spent the day crying because I don’t know what to do, I was alone because I was ignoring people I created to feel not alone. I am going to go back to pretending they are real.
I am sitting on a dog bed, and I can finally hear her breathing again, which means it is okay for her to be real again to me, because I am real but need the comfort of being unreal at night when I am so alone.
I can finally hear you breathing again, and it means my best friend didn’t kill you off in her imaginary life that is my life too, or a story about redemption.
Fiction- future manifestation-
She hasn’t talked to me all day, because I yelled at her, I yelled at her because I was having a bad day, and she was having a bad day, I spent the day alone, sitting around feeling sorry for myself.
I am real, Joy is not, but joy is real to me. So Joy can be real for now, because otherwise I might die alone, because I can’t deal, you don’t have to understand, just let me have this…
She touches my shoulder and I am alright for a second. She walks into the next room and I can hear her breathing, and I thank everything in the universe that I am back in Misery with my fake life for now.
I am dying inside. I am so sad. I need something.
I like someone being in the next room. Please come back,
I have felt lost recently, and I have been romancing my drugs/drinks of choice through whining and making it look like I feel bad, I was just complaining because I wanted to get high or drunk and I can’t because I don’t want to, that is my choice and holding onto the idea that I am being forced by something external is insane. I am being forced by myself, because I am out. I have realized what horror my existence was to the world, to myself, to my friends, my family, and to the streets of this country, however blown out of proportion I made it for you to see what I saw, because I don’t like to tell the whole truth, I am an ***.
I am speaking for myself and Amanda, because now more than ever we are learning to speak with the same voice, instead of the masturbatory narcissism that was seen on this site so far.
If nothing else, I am looking forward to being less of an inconvenience to those that love me.
And I see myself only different, the face turns when I don’t turn and the eyes are different, I focus on the black pupils of her eyes and I am swimming in a sea of black tar, but not because it feels like water, it is refreshing and feels to me like kissing,
I hit my nose of glass which is strange because I am now inside the mirror partially, but my nose is not, somehow it hits the glass, and I feel a calling back to life, a psycho shouting, that comes in the Charlie Brown WAH WAH WAH WAH.. I check my nose for glass, for blood, but I can’t tell the difference between the nose, my nose? and the cold, hot, cold water that encircles me and I am okay, with it riding up my limbs, caressing me with warmness.
Bang bang, he shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down
Nancy Sinatra-Bang Bang, My Baby Shot me Down
I am kissing someone who tastes like me, her mouth tastes wrong like it should not be hers because it is mine? How do you touch tongues with a reflection, her tongue dances with mine, and I feel like I am going to throw up but in the kind of way that you feel when you are going on a roller coaster and you kind of like it but you want to throw up because you are afraid you are going to fall off.
I touch her hand and realize I am holding my own.
I look in the mirror is that my hand covered in shattered glass? Or am I pulling a screaming woman from a burning building? I don’t know, she kisses my hand and I cry, I am so confused, I hate me so much and you remind me of me and I love you for loving me but I am also slightly disgusted? Please stop.
She stops, and I start crying, what just happened.
She flashes in and out like a ghost.
I put my hand through her hand, it feels like I am burning alive, with electricity, I think I am losing my mind. I am losing my…
Who are you strange creature?
I am you, from a parallel dimension, we are supposed to save each other.
I heave and I don’t remember what happens next.
The dissing ease of nar·cis·sism.
You still can’t spell that?
No because it’s not a real thing, and don’t talk to me right now, I am trying really hard to convince myself that cat’s aren’t allergic to Chinese food.
You aren’t a cat anymore.
I know which is all the more reason I don’t want to look like an idiot.
I like how you look.
Of course you do…. I’m just you as a guy.
Me as a fatter guy.
Jerk. Not nice, and not true.
I know. I like the way you look.
Gross, I am you.
Self-love is not gross.
That’s not the same thing.
So what does Rei think of you recently.
She thinks I have a nice &^*.
I used to kill your enemies by torturing them to death.
I wake up tired, bent over, and I can’t move. My sight what little of it I have is directed forward
At a question mark that sits in its material composed hardness
In the center of what must be a room, in that it occupies space in time? Am I in time? Am I at all? I do not seem to be me? I think this because I can see in a strange way, having a sort of above the room consciousness, that allows me to see everything and feel nothing… but what do rainbow posed people feel anyway?
I am made of hard, plastic? Are we bent watching the question mark? Why would I watch a question mark? Is that the question. How can I have something in my eye if I don’t have eyes. Why am I purple when all the other people are different colors? The other people can’t move either… at least there is that. My knees hurt.