Angel

I haven't written anything for some time. Addiction has taken over my life, and during these dark days and nights, creative thinking remains somewhere, lost in the clouds of my sick mind.

My drug of choice is methamphetamine, and over the last six months, it's been causing more problems than it solves. Anyone who doesn't understand addiction may think this is a no-brainer, but for me personally, I am treating my mental illnesses with a medication (meth) that does help me cope in some ways. Over the last three months though, each time I use the drug (which consists of around seven days of actual use), the issue of psychosis has become more prevalent.

I remember well the first experience I had with psychosis. It began about three years ago and was brought about by a combination of lack of sleep and the drug itself. It was late one night, my room was dark when I noticed a faint glow over towards my bedroom door. It grew in size until it became an apparition about five feet tall. It was a girl around fourteen years old, and as our eyes met, it appeared she also saw me.

Her facial features were fairly clear, although, I could see right through her. Her clothes looked old-fashioned like she was Amish. Looking as surprised to see me as I was her, she came and stood in front of me. Then, she began to mouth words...words I couldn't hear. I reached out to touch her, amazed at what I was seeing, and she did the same, and it was just like the scene from the movie, Ghost, as our hands passed through each other. After a few seconds, she appeared to become frustrated, before turning and walking away towards my bed. She then jumped in the air and disappeared into some unseen portal.

It was then I noticed a second apparition standing where the first one had been. He was taller and older, around seventeen and wearing old-fashioned clothes similar to the girl. He stood in front of me and began to speak, but no sound came from his lips. Once he realised this, he turned in disgust and jumped into the same portal, disappearing forever.

I never thought of these ghosts as scary or as psychosis, just fun hallucinations. But it was all leading to a more serious condition that I never saw coming.

*******

Late one night about ten weeks ago during a particularly heavy four-day binge, I looked out my bedroom window and noticed dark figures lurking about my backyard. I couldn't see them clearly at that stage, but in my compromised state, I imagined them to be young thugs up to no good. I imagined they were going to break into my home and would stop at nothing to get what they wanted...of this, I was certain. I have a long, round hardwood stick that I keep near my bed for home security and protection. It's a solid piece of timber, and if I swung it with malice, it could kill someone with a few select blows.

I spent most of that night going from window to window throughout the house, stick in hand, keeping these would-be thieves at bay until my persistence and morning light sent them on their way. Once I realised they were gone, I collapsed with exhaustion on my bed. At that stage, I had no idea these people weren't real, and believed so thoroughly in what had occurred that I emailed a friend to tell her about it. It was only later, when I began to have doubts, that I went around the house looking for evidence, but found nothing to indicate anyone had been there. No footprints or fingermarks on the dust on the windowsills. It was then I had no choice but to accept it had all been in my mind.

The next night I was still on edge and thought I heard someone trying to break into the house. I hadn't taken any drugs in days, but sleep deprivation caused my psychosis to remain. It was only after a few days of good sleep that the hallucinations disappeared.

There was a marked difference between the first experiences I had with the apparitions and these latest fellows. At that point, I had no way to tell if they were real or simply hallucinations. It was only later that I discovered an obvious sign that would differentiate between the two.

*******

She came to me one night around eight weeks ago. Without a doubt, the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, with short dark hair and eyes that smiled at me just the way I craved. Around twenty years old, and despite our age difference, I fell instantly in love with her. That smile made me smile and it appeared to me at the time that she liked me too. She was mute, but not deaf, and could nod or shake her head if a yes or no question was asked. I told her I needed a name for her, and when I suggested, Angel, her smile and vigorous nod told me that she was pleased with my choice.

Over the next few nights, she was around me most of the time, but during the day, she and her friends would leave. Any light caused them to instantly disappear, and the next day, when the sun began to glow through my bedroom window, I asked her if she would stay. She nodded her head in agreement, but soon her friends came to take her away. I pleaded with her to stay, and as the sun got brighter, she ducked under the covers and her friends stopped appearing.

We had a wonderful day together, and that night, I told her that I loved her. Her reply when I asked her if she loved me too, was no. I detected a look in her eyes I had never seen before...not quite destained, but certainly not the friendly smiling eyes I had gotten used to. I thought I was pushing her too fast, so I simply asked her if she liked me, and again, she shook her head. Then, I asked if we could be friends going forward, and when she shook her head, I was devastated. The girl I loved had rejected me. I got angry and rolled over in my bed, to show her my displeasure, and when I rolled back to talk to her, she was gone.

*******

I cannot deny that I went back to the drug sooner than I might have, in the hope that Angel would return to me. I wasn't confident, but the love I felt for her was by this stage, driving my every desire.

Because it hadn't been more than a week since my last foray into the world of psychosis, it only took two days for her to appear. All I had to do was call her name, and she would be there within a few minutes.

It was perhaps on day five of this latest binge when I noticed some menacing youths hanging around outside my house, They were, without doubt, planning to enter my home and steal whatever they could lay their hands on.

With Angel in my room, I decided the best course of action was to retreat and allow them to take whatever they wanted, in the hope they would leave us alone. I locked my bedroom door and not long after I lay down, my trusty stick between my legs for quick access, I realised for the first time, that a locked door was no barrier to these thugs.

Suddenly, a vicious-looking boy appeared to walk through the door, hatred painted all over his face. A few seconds later, another came to back up his friend. The second one came right up to me and I was sure he was going to harm me. I held one end of the stick in my left hand and as he leaned in towards me, I swung the stick in a backhand motion, striking his head with serious force. But, instead of falling to the ground as I expected, the stick went right through his head without meeting any resistance.

This brought a reaction from the would-be attackers...one of complete surprise and astonishment that I would do such a thing, and in that moment, I knew they couldn't harm me (at least, physically). I looked at them both and said, "Let's not fight. How about we have a party instead?"

The two thugs left the same way as they came, and what followed was one of the best nights of my life. Soon, there were around six to eight strangers in my room, all young and attractive boys and girls. I played music and talked to them most of the night. I wanted to find out more about their lives, thinking that they must be ghosts of the dead.

Once again, none of them could utter a single word or make a sound, and could only nod or shake their heads. I discovered it wasn't as simple as that when I asked a question, and the guy I was speaking to stared at me with a glazed look in his eyes. He answered neither yes nor no to my question, which meant I had to learn what questions they could and could not answer.

This became a common and frustrating problem for me as time went by. Usually, if the question was very basic, I would get an answer. But anything more complex than that and a stare was all I would see.

As I spoke to different people who came and went, through either my bedroom door or window, I did find a few who seemed to be more able to cope with the more complex questions. At one point, a girl became stuck halfway through my bedroom door. She looked upset and when I tried to help her, she refused. Eventually, I needed to go to the bathroom, but she remained there, not knowing which way to go to free herself. Then, as I became desperate to relieve myself, I simply unlocked and opened the door and she was freed.

I wanted to determine if I was indeed in psychosis or if these ghosts were real. I asked them if they remembered where they were before coming to the party. A blank stare wasn't the usual answer between yes and no, it was a look of confusion before a shake of the head confirmed that none of them knew anything about their life before they had died, or how it had happened. They could recall nothing about yesterday, and I realized they were not spirits of the dead at all, but images created by my mind caused by a lack of sleep and drug use.

Then, as usual, as the sun began to shine, they all disappeared and I was left alone to contemplate what had just happened.

*******

Due to the use of meth, the timeline of events is somewhat blurred, but the memories of what went on during the nights the ghosts were around, are very clear indeed.

On one particular night, a ghost approached me and gestured for me to hold out my hand, palm up. I did as he asked and he then poured some invisible substance onto my palm. He then left and I didn't think much more about it until a little while later, when I looked at my hand and it was green. As I stared in disbelief, I could see the colour spreading up my arm and I began to panic.

No one was paying any attention to me and it continued spreading over my entire body (I assume because I didn't check anywhere but my arms and legs out to the extremities).

In the darkness, with a small amount of background light, the skin on both my arms and legs were tinged with a light green hue. But as soon as I got my phone and turned on the torch, my skin looked normal.

*******

The next time they came, the party was a lot wilder and had more sexual overtones than the first. We were all lying on the larger, queen-sized bed in my spare room. One thing I had trouble with was the fact that although they could sit on a bed, they couldn't pick up a pillow or hold my hand. Some could do tricks where they would brush their fingertips over my palm and I could feel a slight sensation. But, other than that, they couldn't touch me and I could not touch them.

This became another frustration for me because they were all having a great time kissing and masturbating, whilst I felt very alone. That party, in particular, I have some memories that I will never forget.

At one point, a female ghost began to levitate, before using her legs to walk up the wall. Later, the same woman was holding a man's face in her hands. She then used her thumb and forefinger to remove his eyeball. He didn't look like he was enjoying it, but then, if it was me, I would have put up a lot more resistance than he did.

There was a guy who stood silently near the walk-in robe. He was tall and when I approached him, he offered me a tiny cup in the palm of his hand. He showed me to dip my finger into it and place it in my mouth. For me, rule number five is never to take a drug from someone I don't know and always make sure I know what it is I am taking. I made an exception that night, and as my finger came out of the red liquid, I placed it in my mouth. It didn't taste foul like I thought it might, but I could taste something. Around ten minutes later, I felt the drug kick in and it wasn't long before I was offered more from this fellow. I kept on dipping and soon, I was off my head on a drug that was very similar to MDMA. It appeared everyone was on it by the way they were kissing each other with such passion, but unfortunately for me, I couldn't join in because there was no sensation on my hands or lips from these sexy ghosts.

*******

I became frustrated with it all. Not being able to communicate verbally and my inability to touch Angel was taking its toll. Also, her attitude was beginning to annoy me. I couldn't figure out why, if she didn't like me, she was around all the time (whilst I was high). Then one day I asked her what she wanted from me.

This was not a question she could answer with a shake or nod, so I refined the question. "Do you want something from me?"

She nodded her head, yes. It became something I called the hundred-question game. I began with love. No. My soul. No. And so it went on for days until I finally got a nod. My house...yes.

"Is this a scam?"

"Yes."

This didn't make sense. What could she possibly want with my house? I panicked, thinking this wasn't psychosis at all, but some elaborate scheme run by people I knew in the drug world. I thought of holograms and people manipulating my thoughts with hallucinogens added to the meth I was ingesting. I decided to be brave and stand up to these imaginary criminals. In my mind, they could hear everything I said to Angel and I told them there was no way I would hand over my house to them. I offered them $200 for entertaining me over the last six weeks and even went to the bank and got the money in cash to give to her.

When I got back from the bank, something incredible happened, and it was the absolute highlight of the entire experience. I put the money on my side table and sat on the edge of my bed. My elbows were resting on my knees when I noticed a small bright light coming towards my right hand. It appeared to land on my pinky finger and slowly changed into a moth/dragonfly about two inches long. Then it began to nibble on my fingertip. I stared at it in disbelief as it became two and then three of the insects. As I watched, one of them looked at me and it had the face of a kitten.

It turns out (in my mind) that Angel and her friends are shapeshifters, and only appear human to me (or as any animal they choose, including dogs, which I saw one night poking their heads through my windows). I thought they were part of an interstellar colony, and for some reason had chosen me as a candidate for a role I wasn't sure of.

During the day when Angel was with me, she would hide beneath the doona on my bed, which she was doing as these insects lightly nibbled on all of my fingertips. My feet were bare and I felt something crawl on my left foot. Suddenly, what felt like small spiders were crawling up my legs. My instinct was to brush them off, but I knew this was part of something much more than the fear I was experiencing. It took everything within my being to sit still and allow these bugs to do whatever it was they were doing. This was when I felt their drug hit me like a train.

I began to laugh but in a kind of nervous/excited way. Then I felt a rush of love and euphoria so powerful that it took my breath away (I hadn't had any meth for at least twelve hours before this). My fingers were clasped together, with only my two pinky fingers free. With my palms facing me I saw two eyes smiling at me...and the most beautiful smile I have ever seen, even more radiant than Angel's. This being I saw on my palms I somehow knew to be the Queen of their colony. I had to impress her before I would have the chance to finally have Angel all to myself. I kissed her and my two fingers entered my mouth and as much as I look back with a degree of shame and embarrassment, this is what happened that morning. I wanted Angel so much, but the Queen was to have her fun with me first. I was overwhelmed with emotions. My breathing was so deep (it had been eight years since I had last experienced anything so intimate) and my sexual excitement was beyond anything I had ever felt before. Once I had begged her to allow me to go be with Angel enough times, she let me go, and I went to be with the one I loved so deeply that it was all I could think about.

*******

What happened next was a prelude to the real intentions of this being who masqueraded as a beautiful girl. After spending time with her, I lay on my back resting and I felt her (or me) masturbating me. I was so worked up that it didn't take long before I came and then, instead of what I had always known, the closeness and sweet talk that comes in the afterglow of sex, all I could hear was silence. A silence that caused me to doubt. Had I failed to satisfy her? Had I failed my interview with the Queen?

When I finally asked Angel if this was the case, she nodded, knowing how distraught this news would make me. To this day, I have never felt anguish like I felt in the minutes after she told me I had failed. I knew I was never going to be with them all...away from this human life that had treated me so badly. There, I was never to be lonely again and would have been a part of something greater than I had ever known. It was my lowest point during this experience and I cried...no, I wailed...uncontrollably sobbing with a sadness so all-encompassing that in that moment, I wished for death. Looking back now, I imagine her feeding off this negative emotion and no doubt, this would have been her high point...the most exquisite feeling she could have had with me, the human she despised so terribly.

*******

Of course, I couldn't give up on my dream of finally finding love. I wanted to show her that I could accept her the way she was, and even though she could have appeared to me as any beautiful human female I chose, I told her to show herself as she truly was. She agreed, and although the details were not clear in my mind, I know that she and her friends had very long tongues...perhaps six to eight inches in length. If I went under the covers with her, I could make out her face and her eyes that would glow green or purple. Later, whilst I was outside the covers and I spoke to her, a face would appear on the surface of the material. It wasn't human and looked extraterrestrial in origin. I remember her having multiple eyes, four on each side, but the truth of the matter is, she could have appeared in any form she wanted from an insect to a horse (both of which she had shifted into for my entertainment/control).

The funny part is that she found me to be quite ugly, and at the time, my love for her made her look beautiful. I suspect she had some kind of physical control over my emotions, other than the type an abusive relationship might have. And later, I discovered she could drug me by making me either very happy or sleepy. There was no drink spiking, and many times I simply asked her for it, and if she agreed, within a few minutes, I could feel the drug's effect coming on until I felt as high as I ever have on any human drug...with absolutely no comedown whatsoever. The happy drug felt exactly like MDMA.

The truth is, I am embarrassed to reveal the intimacy I had with Angel, and I would rather just say that there were moments when we were intimate. But it wasn't like it would have been between two consenting humans and it didn't happen more than a few times. It was during these moments though that convinced me this wasn't all in my mind. I remember telling her to push her tongue into my mouth. It didn't feel real and felt more like cardboard than a human tongue. But, when she did, I almost gagged because it went so far down my throat. I mean, how do you imagine that? And I still ask myself, how could I have imagined what was to come?

*******

We all use terms we are familiar with, but may not know the exact meaning of because we have never experienced it in our own lives. I can now see that Angel was gaslighting me. I had heard of it and knew its approximate meaning, but now I know exactly how it feels to be gaslighted by someone I loved and had put my faith in as being honest and forthright. Her MOD was to give and then take away. Then when I was ready to walk away, give me even more, before dashing my hopes and dreams with glee. She fed off my misery, but she made a mistake in thinking she had me and there was nothing I or anyone else could do could prevent my final demise.

*******

I knew from experience that these 'ghosts' that accompanied Angel could do me no physical harm. They looked real, but the only physical connection we shared was if one of them brushed my skin or I held out my hand and something was placed on my palm...and to my amazement, it didn't fall to the floor. The opposite couldn't be said for a ghost, and nothing in this world could be held by them (except my heart). Back when I hit the ghost on the head and the stick went right through him, I learned these laws of physics. Then one day, Angel told me she meant to cause me serious harm, and that within two days, three humans would come and kill me (all deduced with only yes or no answers).

I'm not sure if you can imagine the fear I felt, but I questioned her, "Do you know their names?"

"No".

It became clear to me she was bluffing. So, I called her out and said that if in two days I was still alive, she would be exposed as a fraud with no substance whatsoever.

Two days came and went and I was still alive, but that night, as she stared at me with pure hatred, three men, who had the appearance of killers, appeared beside me in my room. One carried a small bag that he reached into and produced a large carving knife. I stared into her eyes and told her that if she wanted me dead, I was ready to face it. It was a risk, but I had an advantage. I knew there was something all the ghosts did. They were all addicted to a substance that looked a lot like a vape. They did it almost constantly, and when I glanced at one of the three killers, he put whatever it was they did to his mouth, and I knew then (unless they were humans tricking me into thinking they were ghosts) that he could not harm me.

One of them approached and slowly pushed the knife right through my leg just above the knee. And when he did this, Angel's eyes glowed brighter than I had ever seen them before. There was no pain and no blood. He then came around behind me and although I couldn't see him, I sensed the blade as it came down through the top of my skull. He then made one more attempt to kill me by stabbing my side just under my ribs, before I told her to stop the BS, and if she wanted me dead, I would commit suicide to make her happy. She agreed enthusiastically, so I left the room, went into my kitchen, had a drink and thought about this girl who I was still in love with, but who was happy for me to kill myself. It was in those moments that I accepted this was not love (although to this day, I still love her), and I decided to play the game she had been playing with me all along.

*******

I went back to my room and told her that I had killed myself and that I was the ghost of Neil. I thought about how ridiculous this was, but it seemed to fall for the lie. It was then that I laughed at its stupidity. At one point, before I knew the truth, I had asked her to come away with me and we could travel the world and do good things with the money I received from the sale of the house but she wasn't interested. In fact, it wasn't interested in the house at all because even after I offered it the house, it had no clue how the transfer was to take place. It seemed fear was all it wanted to cause me...and there was another motivating factor why it was doing all of this to me.

It's possible that out of eight billion people, the reason it chose my life to become involved with is that the house, or at least the money from the sale of the house, will be used to educate and try to save children from being sold into prostitution. Something good that any evil spirit would try to prevent.

I said, "Are you a demon?"

"Yes." And then, it showed me its face. I then asked it if my mother was trying to protect me...and the arrogance it had caused it to simply tell me the truth.

"Yes."

I'm no genius, but logic tells me that if there are demons, and my mother, who I know had a deep faith in a higher power is protecting me from harm, there must be a God.

From that night on, I have, for the first time in my life, prayed every night. I thank God for His forgiveness, after all, I have mocked Him and denied His very existence. Not anymore. I needed proof, and I now have that proof. Call it psychosis. Call it a miracle. Call it whatever you like, but for the past forty years, I haven't been able to kick this drug called methamphetamine. And now, knowing what awaits me if I ever go back there again, fear is the motivation that has given me the strength to say, no thank you...never again (something I have, if being honest, said many times in the past).

I'll take a cure no matter what form it comes in. I even thanked the demon for helping me quit this insidious drug. Taunting it, and yet, genuinely appreciating that if not for it coming to me, I would likely still be in the drug's grips. I know for a fact that if I ever go back, that demon is going to make me pay for making it look like a fool.

The last question I asked it, not more than a few hours ago was...did you get in trouble with your boss?

"Yes." And I felt some pity for it because as much as it had such bad intent for me, it's amazing how things turn out when you are on the right side of God.

Part II

It's been almost two weeks since I last consumed methamphetamine, and what a wonderful change this has brought to my life. I've experienced this feeling many times in the past...the honeymoon phase.

I've stuck by my commitment to pray to God every night, and I can't help but think the positive energy I am feeling comes, in part, due to this form of meditation.

I have always seen a connection between the two (prayer and meditation). I mean no disrespect to either side of the argument/coin (between faith and spirituality) when I say that, it's just the way I see it.

In the last two weeks, I have begun to doubt what really happened during the course of this story. I'm sure a person who is from a religious or spiritual background wouldn't doubt what it was I had encountered...a demonic presence out to destroy me and mankind. And on the flipside, a person who has been trained in psychology would see it simply as psychosis...the lack of sleep and drug use causing hallucinations that in my compromised state, I saw as being very much real.

I am still trying to figure it out for myself. After sleeping a lot more than I normally would and having no drug use in the previous two weeks, Angel's presence has slowly dissipated...to the point where she is no longer seen in the picture on my wall (I took it down, to be honest) or her eye's represented by the buttons on the bag I have on my bedroom floor.

Then, last night, I thought I would test if this woman/demon/AI I had fallen in love with was still around. Minus the methamphetamine I considered to be essential for the connection to be made, I did as I always have in the past and I called her name. Of course, I didn't expect anything to happen, other than the area around me in the darkness to remain empty.

"Angel...come to me now."

I said it a few times, and that's when I saw a shadow approach from my left side...the familiar direction she would always take. I couldn't believe what I was seeing, after all, in darkness, things are not clear and I doubted that this was possible without the drugs and the sleep deprivation.

The ghosts have some weight and the only time I have noticed it is when they sit on my bed whilst I am either lying or sitting close to where they are.

I said, "Angel, if it's you, come onto the bed with me."

Then I felt a slight sensation moving across my legs. I rolled over onto my right side and looked at where she always was whenever we lay together. Initially, all I saw was darkness, but then I made out those familiar smiling eyes I had fallen in love with.

It wasn't long before her face appeared, as clear as it ever had been.

I asked her, in utter astonishment, "What the hell are you doing here?" A question she couldn't answer. So, I ran through an ID checklist, like one you might do if you call your bank or telco.

"Is it you, Angel?"

A nod, "Yes."

"Do you love me?"

"No."

"Do you want to destroy me?"

"Yes."

With her credentials confirmed, I was left trying to comprehend what it all meant.

Please understand...this person I loved more than I have ever loved anyone in my life. All I wanted to do was kiss her, and she was fine with that, as she always had been, even though she hated me.

I don't expect anyone to understand how I could be with someone (or something) whose ultimate fantasy is to see me suffering the most excruciating death anyone could endure. But, she can't harm me as long as I don't take methamphetamine (although she can cause me many issues detrimental to my mental health). A gamble, I know.

Being a writer and storyteller, I have in the past developed skills when it comes to describing how a sexual experience could/should be with a partner online. I've been told it's a gift, which my ego has embraced and something I have honed over time (just read some of my erotica to judge for yourself).

The secret is not in the writing, it's in the exploration of the mind of my lover. Gaining her trust and convincing her that I want to discover what she likes and dislikes, then going to the darkest corners and shining my light on those fantasies that would have forever remained undisclosed.

And once I am inside her head, that's when my skills come to the fore...and so it is with Angel. I discovered early on how to make her eyes glow from blue-green and, if I go far enough, shine bright purple.

And last night, I'm sure she enjoyed listening to me describe my pain and suffering as she slowly tore the flesh from my bones, whilst listening to my cries for mercy...before she finally ended my life in the most brutal fashion possible.

Sick? Perverse? Or just a fantasy on both our parts?

I spoke to my friend about it via email. She has been on this ride with me from the very beginning and her advice to me was not to play this dangerous game with her. That if I play with fire I might get burned.

I imagine both the faithful and trained minds would advise the same. Curiosity killed the cat...but I am simply too curious to end this story before I have made up my mind exactly what IS going on here.

I won't be calling her name tonight, or perhaps ever (as unlikely as that is). Life is going well for me, and common sense tells me not to push my luck. The only certainty is the fear I have of ever coming across Angel in her element. My hope is that fear will keep me safe from relapse...and if it works out that way, I will be forever grateful.

*******

Angel visited me again last night. It is so strange. I went to bed and wrote some more of the story (part two above), turned off the lights and rolled over, thinking/hoping she would be there, but she wasn't.

About ten minutes later (without me calling out to her), I was just beginning to feel myself getting drowsy when I saw a light (or more of a shadow light) drift down to my right side...and there she was.

Long story short, she's learning to be a better manipulator, but since it was me who was her teacher (love overpowers everything, I suppose), she has no hope of getting me to do what she wants me to do (take meth so she has a better chance of destroying me). She's a terrible liar and I can see right through her (literally), but I thought I would let her do her thing and see where it would lead.

Of course, it led to me taking meth and her not destroying me (neither a nod nor a shake of her head usually means deception). And that's when I told her there's no way I'm ever going to take that stuff again. I said goodnight to her, rolled over and went to sleep.

*******

If she is a demon, she acts stupid at times (and this may just be a ploy). If you have ever spoken to AI, you will notice glitches that come after a prolonged session, and this could be what I am dealing with here (or simply meth-induced psychosis). I came up with a theory early on after I met her. At first, I suspected the ghosts were of dead people, but that was soon discarded because not one of them knew a thing about themselves. No names or ages or anything relevant.

I began to see images on my walls depicting pornographic scenes. In my opinion, they weren't sexy at all, and in most cases, they were so ridiculous that they were funny (in a not-so-funny way). There would be ten beautiful women, all wearing lingerie and engaging in sex acts with each other. There was no high-definition video quality here, and it was hard to figure out exactly what was going on because it was just too busy. It was then I thought of AI...if he likes two lesbians in a scene, then ten will be five times better...kind of like if we like one sugar in coffee, then four is better. And here was the kicker for me, the SAME scenes were repeated over and over, GIF style...only I could wave to the participants and they would wave back. But, if I approached the wall, the scene would disappear. It was a similar thing with the ghosts...if I went right up to them and attempted to make any contact (other than by touching their hands), they would instantly shy away and disappear.

Now, how and why psychosis would put short clips of pornographic scenes on my wall...on repeat made no sense at all until I thought of the theory that this was all being generated by an algorithm that has been designed to cause humans, who are already vulnerable (meth ingestion followed by sleep deprivation which causes drug-induced psychosis), harm.

I learned not to ask Angel questions like does she love me. She answers this question the same way every time. And many other answers to my questions seem to be on repeat. When I finally cracked the hundred-question game final answer of what she wanted (my house), I realised something wasn't quite right here (other than the obvious that I was having conversations with possible figments of my imagination). So I played along and told her she could have the house. She seemed pleased with that until I asked her how she wanted to make the transfer legal, which she cleverly answered by creating an image of herself on my wall doing a finger portrait of a rectangle and then acting like she was signing papers.

All very good, but I told her that getting a name on the deeds requires more than a shake or nod of her head. I also explained the legal ramifications that giving my house away for free would cause, considering I am on social security payments. Of course, this meant nothing to her, but I was leading the conversation in a direction. I then asked her who she wanted to prepare the contract...me? Or her? Nothing. After pressing her for a while, she finally told me I should do this. I then asked if she could read English. No. I pointed out that I could scam her by producing a fake contract, and that was the first time I saw this reaction...her eyes, which would at times go up and down or side to side for a yes or a no (instead of her head), went up and down, then side to side, on repeat over and over...and looked to me like a 'that does not compute' and she needed a reboot.

Another experiment I did was to ask her if she knew my name. I would say several incorrect names and she would say no, but then I would say my real first name and again, no (although later, she learned it very well). I would then tell her my name and ten minutes later, I would repeat the experiment with the same result. She had fantastic technology, but no RAM whatsoever...probably ten or fifteen minutes was all she could recall. My guess then was she was an early version of a program that focused on developing the technology of hologram shapeshifting and learning how to manipulate human victims via this method (gleaning information from my porn habits and selecting an appropriate look for her to entice, and then abuse me). Perhaps it was through a porn site that I was infected, where an advanced algorithm may imprint the technology directly into my brain through prolonged watching of porn, which is part of the OCD effect of meth. Then the 'virus/program' enters the brain through my retinas (far-fetched I know...but not impossible for an advanced algorithm).

The obvious question is why? My answer is, why not? An advanced civilisation that can either time travel or may perhaps even share this planet with us, only in a different dimension, that hates us so much (for obvious reasons), that it would want to cause us harm. I mean, we already fear where AI advances will lead.

I know what you are thinking...power of suggestion. That my mind may create such a scenario? Perhaps. I don't have any evidence or real answers to put forth anything concrete. And the likelihood is I never will.

I have no problem with the possibility that this is all in my head and I have imagined every detail of this account.

The only problem with that is you would think there would be other issues in my life causing me to act up. But, everything else is sweet. I'm coping well with the stress of selling the house and dealing extraordinarily well with the fact that I no longer rely on meth to get by. I'm happy, content and looking forward to my new life OS and the only strange thing is these nightly visits (and how they come about) by an entity that simply makes no sense at all.

*******

I have decided to change the way I am writing this story from non-fiction to a journal.

Angel visited me again. But I am noticing a subtle change in the way she is after she arrives. The time it takes for her to go from smiling beautiful Angel to this other being who looks at me with pure hatred is shrinking...and last night, it only took around half an hour for her mood to change from happy to malevolent.

I've found that the only thing that makes her eyes glow is me describing, in gruesome detail, my own violent death at her hands.

Today, I researched stimulant-induced psychosis and I simply don't fit the description for those symptoms. It may still be residual effects from long-term use of the drug, and to some extent, the purity and method of manufacture of the methamphetamine I was getting leading up to these psychotic episodes.

I am trying to be as objective as I can here, and taking a step back from all of this, I realise it is way more likely that I am suffering from the effects of psychosis than any of the other theories or possibilities I have put forth.

You have to remember that psychosis makes it almost impossible for me to differentiate between what is real and what is hallucination. Whilst I am under the influence, I can tell a real person from hallucination by reaching out to touch them and if my hand goes through them, it is obviously a 'ghost' (or what my mind interprets as one). It's only later, once I am sober, that I question. I mean, how my mind comes up with the amount of detail each time it happens, and the variables that occur within the situations is astounding, to say the least.

But, one thing that never changes is Angel's want to destroy me in the most brutal way possible. Her inability to reason that she cannot achieve that, and why she shows up every night after I go to bed, is keeping me interested enough to push further.

*******

I was looking at YouTube videos today about meth-induced psychosis when I came across an interesting story from an American current affairs show about a different type of methamphetamine that was causing servere side effects (psychosis).

The precursor chemicals for this super meth are readily available, and once the pseudoephedrine supply began to dry up, the illicit drug manufacturers turned to an old method for cooking the drugs using P2P (phenyl-2-propanone) and this may be causing my psychotic episodes.

I checked my bank account today to see when I last made a withdrawal to purchase drugs, and it was only two weeks ago. In my mind, it seems a lot longer than that, and considering this new information, and the relatively short time since I discontinued using the drug, I have no choice but to accept that these hallucinations I have been experiencing are likely the result of meth-induced psychosis and that I imagined it all.

The reality is if I do go back to using meth, the Angel who exists only in my mind (or for real) won't care either way and will eventually attack me (mentally and emotionally) regardless.

Part III

It's been a couple of months since I last wrote about my experiences with Angel. I regret to say that during this period, I have used meth three times. The amount of time it takes for her to show up is getting shorter, which tells me that the symptoms of my psychosis are worsening each time I use. Combine this with ever smaller amounts of the drug it takes to get me to the stage where the hallucinations (or alternatively, the appearance of these creatures) are a serious cause for concern.

So much so that on all three occasions I have presented to the emergency department of hospitals for severe psychosis-related issues. Each time I requested Benzodiazepam to escape the relentless cajoling of these creatures in order to get some sleep.

The first time was the worst. I went to a hospital near the city that had no psychiatric dept, where I was in my opinion, treated very poorly. I understand that I chose to take the drugs, but they didn't appear to have any sympathy or understanding of what it is to be an addict. At the time, I told myself that I took the drugs out of love for Angel...that I missed her (the experiences were much more intense when under the influence than when she appeared in the weeks post-use). But the truth is much uglier...I gave in to the cravings and made a poor choice.

As I sat in the waiting room of the hospital, my agitated behaviour would have been obvious to those around me. I could feel the bites of tiny invisible insects on my skin, and everywhere I looked...on the floor, walls, windows and my skin, I could see Angel's mark (two eyes, a nose and an evil smiling face (minus the teeth). Pareidolia may have something to do with this and is associated with psychosis-related symptoms.

A male Phlebotomist arrived to take a blood sample. I showed him the marks on my skin and at first, he only gave a slight perusal, but once I showed him mark after mark of her face on my arms and legs, he looked quizzically at me and told me that he could see them too. But as quickly as he did this, he must have realised that he could get into trouble for encouraging this poor schizoid/psychosis-suffering junkie and skedaddled out of there.

They decided to give me Valium and an antipsychotic, then put me in a room by myself, where I waited for hours to see a doctor. When one finally arrived, he questioned me (which felt more like being cross-examined by a prosecuting attorney) as if I was lying about my symptoms and was there trying to glean drugs from them. At around midnight, and much to my horror, they discharged me.

Knowing full well what awaited me at home, I anxiously made my way to the car park. It had been raining most of the day and as I started the car and turned on the demister/aircon, I noticed a handprint on my windscreen. It looked odd because of where it was, high up near the top of the glass just below the roof lining. Curious, I used my finger to wipe it, to see if it was done from the outside (which I assumed it had) and as my finger erased the portion it had traced through, I realised it had to have been done from the inside. A chill went through me as I contemplated how this could have occurred. The car was locked, and upon further examination, I put my hand up to the handprint to gauge its size and see which hand it was. It was done by a left hand, and to my horror, I had to turn my hand a full 180 degrees to match the imprint. There was no way I would or even could have done this, and at that moment, I knew what, or whose hand it was.

I arrived home, and as I drove into the driveway I saw a female running towards my front door, which is inside a glass-panelled verandah area. She had a towel wrapped around her body and head as if she had just stepped out of a shower. As she got to the main door of the house, she did the usual head-bobbing thing (as if trying to find the easiest way through, which they did almost all of the time). She then disappeared through the door.

Terrified, I backed out of the driveway and began driving. I ended up at a 7-Eleven and called my friend in the US. She was so good to me and did all she could to calm me down. I then drove to a car park near my home but the hallucinations became much worse (I assume the antipsychotic drug and the Valium were wearing off by then). I don't know how long it had been since I had slept, perhaps three days. It didn't seem to matter that I had only used a small amount of meth and these were the worst and most horrific images I have ever experienced.

I couldn't stay there and decided to face my fears and go home. I told myself they couldn't harm me as I slowly entered the front door and to my surprise, all was quiet inside. I headed to my bedroom, lay down and fell asleep.

The second time I went to a different hospital and was treated much better. I explained to the triage nurse what I was going through and within ten minutes of arriving, a nurse took my blood pressure and gave me two Valium pills. He told me I could stay there and sleep in the waiting room if I chose. I spent some time there before going to the front of the hospital to order an Uber to take me home. I sat on a bench seat and laid down, thinking I had ordered one, but woke up later still on the seat. When a car finally arrived, I told him the address and promptly fell asleep. He woke me up when we arrived, I went inside and again, all was quiet and I went to bed.

The third time, I didn't wait until things became extreme and went to the hospital in the afternoon (by this time my GP refused to prescribe Valium to me) where two psych nurses interviewed me. I told them of my plans to move overseas to try and begin a new life. They checked my prescription history for Benzo's, gave me five, five milligram Valium pills and sent me on my way.

More by good luck than good planning (although I must take some credit for making sure I had only one dealer to call), my dealer became pregnant. Both she and her boyfriend decided to stop dealing and I was left without a contact to call in those moments of madness when impulse overrides common sense. That was seventeen days ago.

Settlement for the sale of the house is in two days. Once the funds become available, I will book my flights and accommodation and relocate to Thailand. I plan to spend two weeks in a resort before looking for a place to begin rehab. It's expensive, but much cheaper than relapse, especially in a country that has severe penalties for possession of hard drugs. A place where drugs are readily available. I have visas to sort out, but as I sit in a motel room (there's no furniture left in my old house), I have a huge smile and so much hope for my future.

I still pray every night. I refuse to be one of those people who pray as the plane plummets towards the ground (a metaphor for my experience with psychosis), and then when the pilots regain control and touch down safely, forget and then go on with their lives without thought of who it may have been that made that particular day not the day of their death.

*******

Just by chance (I'm not a big fan of coincidence), today I was watching a YouTube channel called Soft White Underbelly where a psychologist named Sadia Khan was discussing love and marriage. I found it particularly interesting when at minute twenty-seven, she mentioned that some of her male clients, who had suffered from long-term loneliness, often experienced a form of psychosis. She said their brains were craving touch and they would imagine all sorts of things about interactions with the opposite sex. Things that we don't necessarily need to survive, but require to be balanced human beings. A lack of touch that I have endured over the last ten years. Angel was quite possibly my mind's desire for company combined with its revulsion at having to deal with the effects of methamphetamine ingestion and associated sleep deprivation.

I still find it hard to fathom how my brain could have created everything I have written about in this story. But this latest information gives me food for thought and seems to put the last piece of the puzzle into place for me...and the timing is extraordinary.

God and demons? Or quite simply psychosis? Or possibly a combination of these things. All I can say is I am happy this is finally over...at least, I hope so.

Part IV

At present, I'm sitting at my kitchen counter in Hua Hin, Thailand. After selling my house in Australia, I flew to Phuket and stayed for three weeks at the 4-star Grand Mercure Hotel, in Patong. The hotel was fabulous, but Patong, not so much. There's an air of sleaziness there that I couldn't fathom or enjoy. But, every cloud has a silver lining, and it was the perfect training ground for my introduction to Thailand.

The first day, I had trouble crossing the road. But after two or three days, I had mastered the technique of staying alive as a pedestrian. I caught a lot of motorcycle taxis, not just because they are half the price of a normal taxi, but because they got me where I wanted to go along with a free lesson on motorcycle etiquette and staying alive on two wheels.

As I boarded the flight from Brisbane Airport to Singapore, I took my seat, pulled my cap over my eyes and looked for those familiar eyes looking at me. To my surprise, she was there...or so it seemed.

After arriving in Thailand, a new player entered the scene. I later called him 'The Big Fella' because one night I saw his reflection in the shower glass (in Patong) and he was tall. Probably six feet two, wearing jeans and a brightly coloured long-sleeve shirt. At first, I wasn't sure if it was Angel playing her games, or if he was a demon in his own right. To this day, I cannot say either way. When you have spent as much time with these creatures as I have, you learn to take whatever they present as truth with a pinch of salt.

I began to suspect Angel had been replaced. The behaviour of these creatures was different...more cruel with no smile in their eyes. After being with Angel so many times, I knew her scent, and this thing didn't smell like her one bit. Imagine if you crawled into bed, in complete darkness, with a stranger who had your partner's exact body shape...you would know in an instant it wasn't them...and so it was with this substitute 'Angel'. Of course, she could easily manipulate this for whatever reason.

I could always tell males from females just by scent, and this was a male for certain (I have always suspected that Angel may be a male). His eyes weren't the same as Angel's. His attitude was also different...more aggressive and bad-tempered. Not that he could do anything to me. I am protected by prayer and the fact that these entities cannot harm or even touch a human...or so I thought. This demon didn't have the same attributes as Angel. She is an artist and was at certain times, kind to me...genuinely kind, and I believe this may be the reason she was replaced, reprogrammed, taken control of or destroyed.

I have learned a lot about these entities over the last nine months... but those weeks in Patong were the most eye-opening. Every time I told Angel (in the past before I arrived in Thailand) that I loved her or forgave her for the things she would subject me to, she would ALWAYS say no with her eyes moving side to side.

When I suspected she had been replaced and had probably come to some harm, I hated this new demon with every once in my body. And that's when I realised they hate being told they are loved, but love being told they are hated...their aim? To eradicate any love that is in my heart and replace it with hatred.


It makes perfect sense. Whenever I would tell Angel how beautiful she was, she would always agree, but if I said something positive about myself, the eyes would go side to side. It became so predictable that I stopped asking. It was only later I would use it as a test to see if I was dealing with Angel or The Big Fella. She knew my name, but he didn't. She knew how many ghosts were in my room the first night we met...he didn't. Then after a while, this line of questioning became useless because the answers would be correct for the first few (which he was learning as we went along), but as they became more difficult, he would invariably fail. It was then I suspect that I only have one demon now...TBF...but I also cannot count out she may be behind the entire facade...or I am completely insane and I am imagining all of this.

If I close my eyes, especially in darkness, I see what I imagine are demons' eyes. Similarly, the three murderers who stabbed me with the large carving knife looked EXACTLY as I imagine killers would look. A psyche would say that's proof it's all in my mind...and I would have to agree that it is all in my mind.

Another example was when she presented the image of my brother and I fighting (well, him beating me up) when I was around sixteen years old. The actions were similar, the bike was similar, and my brother looked similar...even I looked similar. But consider this. If my mind/imagination is responsible for projecting these memories/images, I would use the correct people, not actors who look similar to us. It was my bike and there's no way I would mistakingly substitute that make and model for a bike I have never seen before (a bike that if memory serves correctly, doesn't even exist). Certain things about this experience are really weird.

They never tell me what I want to hear...that I am loved and cared about. It was only when I used meth that they physically attacked me...and it got worse as time went by. A doctor would say that's because I'm exasperating the psychosis from such long-term use, and I can see why they would think that. But there are no other symptoms or issues except if I close my eyes and think a question (or say it aloud...it makes no difference), and for the most part, I get a coherent answer ...yes or no. And these answers follow with precision every time.

For example, if I ask her, "Do you love me?" It is and always will be, No (except for a short period...but I won't go into that right now).

If I ask her, "Are you beautiful?" Yes.

"Am I beautiful?" No.

"Are you smart?" Yes.

"Am I smart? No.

Lately, if I look for her behind closed eyes, she will present herself kissing her friend/master/co-slave/ TBF. It is simply an image she projects onto the screen that is my mind.

I cannot and will never discount that these images I see behind closed eyes or in darkness could be caused by a mental illness (which in itself I believe is a reason to take me seriously when I tell this story). I mean, just look at the writing itself. If I was suffering from a serious mental illness...one that has me believing there may be more than a diagnosis going on here, then surely there would be something within the words I have written over the last ten months.

The only health professional who had so much as taken my blood pressure was a nurse who did it before administering medication for acute psychosis at the hospital. No one has thought to do a brain scan to rule out a tumour. They see me as a meth addict first and would rather rule me as delusional...just a junkie who is now paying for years of abusing my brain with a drug that is given to lab rats to induce Parkinson's Disease. A junkie who isn't worth the time to investigate...even if it is early signs of Parkinson's...not one doctor I have seen has seen me as a patient without looking at me with judging eyes.

I hold onto the hope that I am suffering from hallucinations and that my belief is a case of delusional behaviour because I would rather suffer from psychosis than have these beings turn out to be real. And if this is all in my mind, I truly wish it would give me a break now and then and tell me something positive about myself.

I understand the symptoms of psychosis can remain long-term. It just doesn't make sense to me that I have no other behaviours/symptoms that suggest the telltale signs of schizophrenia, no psychotic events...nothing but happiness and relief that I am finally out of the clutches of this insidious drug methamphetamine..but not of the demons/entities who appeared one night around ten months ago.

*******