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.
Tag: viewer discretion advised
I miss a lot of things
Looking at the ground to make sure
I will not trip
Welcome to the path of my life, I am inner complicated strive, I am clearly’s soul cutting. Are you green? Are you green? Whatever do you mean?????
I am talking to me.
I am talking to me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The narrator hates themself.
The narrator needs to calm down.
The narrator hates themself.
Okay I feel better.
But really looking for rocks
Or darts to toss
In the trash, because you know it is my goal to
FOCUS ON EVERYTHING THAT KILLS ME
Stop it man, seriously.
Why? I am done anyway.
You are helping me,
Damien.
You are me, but you are also not, and you are helping me.
Thank you self.
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I got up early with you, my friend, the one who I was always fighting against, I realize now I was fighting me, engaged in constant battle of insanity, fighting light to see in dark, fighting vision on quest of mark, I fight you but in so doing, poision applies to skin, and reason spewing out of my mouth and from my head, wishing for life, but fighting the dead.
Questing for sun, but lurking in dark, I am the eternal question mark.
I fight truth, because I can’t look in the mirror
I forgot what I was talking about. Oh, well.
This is about powerlessness, your favorite thing, and water is cleansing.
OoO Look at you, show off.
OoO Look at you show off.
That is mature.
Says the most mature person in the world.
I enjoyed the Easter thing, did you?
I wasn’t there, you were.
Yeah, you were. You were just uncomfortable.
I can tell you are glad you won, stop rubbing my nose in it.
Stop thinking about putting things up your nose then.
JOKE
If something frightening happens to you today, think about it. It may be a warning. It may be 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?
The quilts blow in the wind, the dangle in the flapping breeze that does so well to dry them, after having been bathed in the river, washing them of their previous… stains… I used to be prone to.. bleeding on things. Lots of things… so I had lots of blankets… that I stole from an artist named Sara Whiley. I don’t know much about the woman, just know the name for some reason. Strange. I am glad the quilts are drying. They are actually quite beautiful.
They look a lot better now that I have slept. I like the colors of them. Maybe I should give them back. Maybe I give them back I can leave Misery, my land of addiction in my mind of psycho delusion and love myself enough to be a real human being all the time, not just sometimes.
This is already happening dufus.
Oh yeah, right.
There are those of us that are different, gifted with ability of rapid sight that scan through rooms, noticing everything at once, we are the known as the paranoid and delusional to those who do not understand what we are doing, when lucid, we are scanning, filling everything that is ordinary, rapidly, because in our paranoid madness, this is an essential survival tool, learning at rapid speed, what to avoid to avoid, the chaotic stripping our minds every time we have a mental breakdown.
I am in a store, and now with sobriety, I have the ability to see everything clearly with the calmness of mindful meditation, this is a super power, which is exhilarating in a way that being high never was, because I am experiencing life at rapid speed, far different from the chaotic drain circling of my madness before, this is a roller coaster through life where everything is bursting with vibrant color, coming to life all at once, and I can hear and see everything simultaneously. I am never getting high again. This is the most high I have ever felt in my life, I see everything all at once, but also individually, and I realize now how much I was causing my own pain before, how deeply I was damaging my mind.
I am free, unshackled, and it is amazing.
Thank you, to all that is higher than I ever will be, the earth, the air the stars, the life in everything all around me breathing with me all at once, you are my highest power, the force of life that pounds in my chest, I do not know why I was so blind before, but now I see clearly.
In a fog of vapor, an addict puts pen to..
An addict lies about nothing to make things rhyme while wasting time
Spinning rhymes to distract themselves… have you heard there are two of me?
I am sitting alone in silence, wondering what it is that makes me have random moments of I am going to fall off a cliff, what shifted, what did I miss?
The shot…
No not that, that is done, and you are
SPUN
You are no fun.
Neither are you not anymore…
Whore.
Ow..
Did I hurt you?
No, you were talking to yourself again.
_____________________________________________
Sometimes, I get sunburn so bad it is on the inside of my soul.
Hole.
Whole.
Consume Hole Whole Soul
Erase Transmission?
End of mission?
Mission to what?
To shut you the **** up.
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.
You killed I will make sure your blood is… oh that’s right you don’t have that because you have no legs to stand on, no place to land on, and need me to hit any vein at all, you can’t even make a call to get sauced or star crossed so get lost! My eyes are mine not thine, and I am no longer resigned to die, because I like life. I am no longer addicted to human strife, no I am addicted of stab pain with KNIFE, but I can’t do that so… because that is not real, and I am no longer a prisoner of feel,
I am now becoming more real, no longer need to steal or lie, I can take out your stupid eye or can’t I because you don’t have one. You see through me, which is sad, because I can’t see clearly, is your vision blurry ****? Her’s a fix, get in ditch.
End transmission.
I think I am starting to learn how to feel again, or for the first time. I didn’t remember what this was like, or technically… I don’t know if I have ever felt this at all. The kid died when I was actively using and I never heard about it because I was too busy getting high to even be worth telling, wow, gut punch. If nothing else… this is more reason than ever that I believe there is something behind this. That something wants all living things to live in greater harmony and experience less pain.
I am listening to my family talk about the kid, I knew him personally, just didn’t know he was a drug addict like me. I didn’t bother to ask, because I was always so wrapped up in my own life to have friends, I had dealers and using buddies, and was a friend to no one. I am going to try to change that from now on. I am done being negative, till I forget and start ranting again.
Damien
That was insanely amazing. I have an entire library in that room, which means anytime I feel like complaining, I have a thousand things to read instead of complaining. I am going to start working on starting a more formalized version of my business as well, but more about that later. I am really excited about moving on from all the pain I have caused, and finally doing something worthwhile, I wish I could say I wished all of it didn’t happen, but I don’t. I like being a low bottom addict, because meditating on the last time I got high/drunk and how it almost killed me/caused me to go to prison/and endangered those around me helps me remember why I have no reason.. oh my god…
The back of the shelf is signed by someone who died of an overdose who I knew from a former job of mine, floored…..
Clearly,
Damien.
I’ll show you what do honey, it is easy really, you just lie with reckless abandon and take with impunity, giving nothing and stealing everything until they have nothing left, and then you leave and do it to someone else, you need no friends, I am you and with my help I will fuel your dreams till they become nightmares, and you will walk through a bleary eyed world of no sleep till the day you keel over and die from exhaustion.
Damien de soto, In the beginning
He came to me many times throughout my life, starting at seven years old, he was always the same age, 38. He must have done something at 38 that got to him, and he got stuck there, and paced through life stuck there, inter-dimensional time traveling ghost of Christmas future that he was, he showed me how to be everything that I am. We were thick as thieves and thieves as well. It is a very clever device to get whatever you want, all the devices he taught me, I mean. He is skilled with words, and I admired that, being a writer myself, but he was man, and had the appearance I wish I had myself, but I did not find myself attracted to him in the traditional way.
I want to hide away in the back of a cave At the top of a mountain Where no one can hear me and no one can see me So I don't have to deal with them And they don't have to deal with me
Days N Daze, “Misanthropic Drunken Loner”
I was attracted to him sure, in the way a moth is drawn to flame, and for the longest time, I chased after this, burning my heart with the hot hands of bad men, not knowing I was hunting my own self, seen through the mirror of other dimensional Damien de Soto. He was me and I was in love with myself, and the selfish pursuit of the things that made this an easier admission. I cared nothing for the human beings I robbed, tricked, lied to or manipulated, they were simply devices for spare changes that in their mental sparring with my soul, cut deeply into my ideas that I resembled anything that could be called even close to human at all. I was so in love with him because he was me, and I desired to be him.
So that is who I became.
I am not that thing anymore, do you still like me now?
More than ever. You have discovered with me that true strength is in love.
I stick stones in lollipops made of glass, that look like men made of glass, standing up right with open mouth screaming white smoke, toke and choke on time lost, my cost is the tossed life of the sauced who living in strife consume life in toke of fire smoke. I am the act of spending time collecting dimes to spend on dimes that waste time by turning it on it’s head till you are dead form drifting through land of screaming men.
I am the eyes of friend, so frayed and decayed, he forgets his own name. I am slain by the hand of item time, or meth mind spelling words wrong, I am song rearranged by chopping into pieces, like rocks burned in glass isn’t life a gas? It is for the dead walking, forever talking of nothing, singing songs and saying words that have no meaning, just screaming, because we forget what it means to talk when we stalk death with lack of sleep, we are afraid to die so we lie down never and lie always and forever.
I am sad but glad to get out of myself, I see my generation on a shelf of caskets, and I am screaming your are dying not climbing. High yes, but high enough to die. Please get down, your mind is fizzing because it is breaking, there is no lifting in your shifting to zombie.
Come back down. Please, before you hit the ceiling and break into a thousand peices.
I have noticed a change in my daughter, not just today, but ongoing. I am starting to realize that she is not just drawn to her mother, but looks to me too when I do not know she is watching me, I think a lot of it is she reads this thing when I am not on here, all 6 hours of it.
I am trying to keep it positive sometimes too, but I think the emotional honesty thing is good too. She seems to accept both of us for the flawed creatures we are, which is great because I can’t even fully accept myself yet. I am learning to, actually through her love, she is teaching me that hating myself does not but turn me inward and outward in cyclical resentment fighting them then me and then drinking or using alone.
I am trying to be honest for that very reason, but it is hard. I love lying. I don’t know why, power assertion is a big problem for me, I am such a fearful person, I thought I was the opposite, isolating myself felt like an act of dominance, like I was keeping others from hurting me, because I needed no one. I realize now that is not true, and was the opposite, the act of assertion being a raw fear based act.
I am sorry for this, and sorry that I will likely still do it, it is a hard habit to break.
Damien
So now you know a little more about our parallel universe, Misery, a Hell for those damned to be here, to account for their sins, while in the purging process of their souls. I am being held here for the time being, torturing myself because I did not have my memory entirely before. I was a man possessed by the demonic force of resentment. I am not in any way saying this releases me from responsibility. I am accountable for everything I did. It was me acting under the possession of an inner demon. I think that is why my name is what it is.
I am supposed to learn to get out of my Cain kingdom of Misery and walk back to the Garden of Eden, with Rei, my ray of light, the mercy of my soul from a higher power of forgiveness and mercy. I get it now, that I was buying and selling hellish fire and being a grim reaper for the forces of Hell, that live within the souls of addicts or those damned to a life of addiction to their own pain.
I am speaking out this way, because in the throws of the driving force of desire, I was a passenger in my own body, very much similar to demonic possession.
I hope you understand,
With sincere apologies,
Forever guilty
Damien
Trigger warning, strong caution. Not literal, if you are upset by this kind of thing do not view. I am writing to process repressed self-hatred due to being born in the wrong body, this post is directed at my female form.
Isn’t that neat?
Sorry **** you ripped me off, I don’t care that your face is soft, like mine
BECAUSE MINE IS NOT.
Look, how my fist got caught on yours, my fist not his, you wanted to play a little game didn’t you baby, calling your crazy friend, and then telling your girlfriend will deal with it.
I am not your girl friend honey.
Sorry, baby just wanted your money, well and your cocaine, oh the disdain of the female brain that is now in such pain. You think I care?
I told you who I was and you called me a liar. Now look your soul is on fire, is it too good for you baby? Making you a little itchy and a little crazy, welcome to my world, my sweet little liar.
Your soul is now on fire. I loved you but you never loved me, you told me you did, but never really, I was your toy when your boyfriend hit you.
Now you scream on the corner screaming look what you let him do?
You did this to yourself, you think I did this to you????
I loved you.
You hated me and used me, and you want to talk to me about humiliation?
You only wanted me for derived sensation.
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
The late hours of the night are so much more peaceful now, thank you God.
I am so grateful to be sitting here, able to get up without people thinking I am going into the bathroom to fire heroin into my arm, I am thankful they are seeing a change in me, because I want so bad for my existence to cause no more pain on this planet, than it already has, thank you God and to anyone who has helped me in any of this.
I am elated to be in the quiet of my house with my family sleeping soundly instead of killing themselves of me killing me, and me being pissed because I think they are being selfish for not wanting my arms to stop being covered with sleeves in the summer when I hate long sleeves but I am cold all the time, no longer.
I am so grateful for this. I am able to type right now instead of having a bed time like a child because I am no longer in a shelter.
I am so happy.
Thank you.
Damien
Which is strange, given all I have revealed to you about what I think about. It is strange to me too as well. I think I may be getting better? I don’t know really, at least I starting to make a step in the right direction. I think it is good I taught my daughter something in all this, I am not sure exactly what. Maybe, it was my way of showing her I have some level of psychotic self-control. Honestly, a lot of it was that I for the first time wanted her to not be afraid of me. I don’t know if this is the first time I thought that actually.
I think it might be the first time I thought of anyone, but myself at all, but who knows…. I have no idea what I say on this thing.
I am just documenting feeling really. There is nothing behind it other than a desire to be less ******* psychotic so my family is not afraid of me?
I think I am making steps in the right direction at least, they are no longer afraid of me going places by myself, which is amazing because I like walking in early morning alone, and have always had a “”silent passenger” with me watching me, until recently.
I like being able to watch people, who don’t know me, because normal human behavior is rather mysterious to me, and I am trying to learn about us as a species from the outside of viewing of my fellow, I don’t know fellows?
Later,
Damien
How has a failure, or apparent failure, set you up for later success?
Then you tell me to go away, and I won’t I will watch you, as you tell her you know what’s best for us, her, you say weak demon that you are… you tell her I am every person whoever hurt her.
I don’t even have hands, and why would I kill myself? I live in her mind, that makes
NO SENSE
And she believes because
HEROIN
GO AWAY DAMIEN Did it save you honey, is it making all of this funny instead of being what it is, with your nose runny with blood from his kiss of
FIST
You don’t punch back because he is ****
That lacks soul, or a reeking soul caged lack of man manifesting in a soul not whole.
YOU WILL NOT TOUCH ME I WILL GO AWAY GET AWAY FROM US DON’T TOUCH HER
She doesn’t belong to you, Damien you are the devil, it is in your name.
My name means tame.
She belongs to me now.
She is a human being sir, not an answer to the cancer that is your chaotic soul.
I AM HER TOO. DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME TO GET OUT OF A BODY THAT IS HALF MINE
Sorry, Amanda.
I get it.
DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH ME
She is not you, Damien, you are the devil.
THAT WAS A MOVIE DUMMY YOU ONLY WANT HER MONEY FOR
Misery Loves Their Own Company 