Miss Morganne Devney

  Are you there Satan? It's me, Morganne. Well, JC's still super sick. But I appreciate you showing your condolences and all, without fail, regardless of how long he's been in the bathroom for one day. Today he chose you. Not that I thought he'd ever NOT choose you or anything, but I just wanted to allow you to take your bow for the day, since he did put you in front of someone else, per the usual. I couldn't take the nod for a single second longer, so I calmly and soft-spoken said "JC, I told you, two years ago, I will never date a heroin addict again Not because I'm judging you or because I don't love you, I'm just finally different. I'm different." Satan, I told him this too... I said: "I cannot allow someone who is ducked out/slumped over more than 40% of the day and night, to be an everyday view and everyday normalcy for two little boys, watching your every move, good and bad. They're supposed to be learning the ropes of becom

  Are you there Satan? It's me, Morganne. You genuinely gross me out, and when you affect him, he grosses me out. It's so ugly and so disgusting to watch. I keep telling myself that I'm doing the right thing, by being there for him, knowing in my heart it's what he deserves, and that he'd do the same for me, but, at the expense of my children, and their still somewhat innocent minds. Is being his "solid" and his "bonnie" worth continuously clouding their minds with this filth of the world, over and over and over? Pretending that this is normal, that every kid has a parent that is severely addicted to heroin? Do I just sit back and watch my life go downhill because of it? Do I sit back and wait until it literally drains and drowns us financially, while never actually growing up? I'm supposed to remain struggling to keep my head above water, at a complete standstill while the universe around me moves forward? While my kids get older by the day,

  Are you there Satan? It's me, Morganne.  Guess the only way to start, is exactly where I ended prior to now. We were discussing how I had taught myself how to physically, emotionally, internally, shut my own feelings and emotions down. ENTRIRELY. To the point that I felt nothing, about anyone, or anything. My babies were the only exception. THE ONLY EXCEPTION. It was like living on an episode of the Vampire Diaries, where Klaus, Damon, and Stefan could all shut off their emotions and feel nothing at all, that was my life, in the present. My filters were gone, my natural "Morganne feels bad for hurting everyone's feelings" responses? Gone. My "walking on eggshells for everyone in my life just because I don't want to upset anyone or ruffle any feathers?" Gone. I had me. And that's all I needed. No one knew what to do with me at this point. I shocked even myself, on how brutal and wicked I was becoming, day after day, without him. If people could'

  Are you there Satan? It’s me, Morganne.   Going back to my previous issue, where I was complaining and ranting about how he didn’t give a single care in the world about how I must have been feeling without him, and what my babies felt like without him, because he was way too caught up in stressing over you and that needle, to even open his eyes and see what was going on around him. I don’t think you get it, Satan. While I’m at home, can barely get out of bed, barely take a deep breath on my own, could sleep in about 45-minute increments, and was going crazy on the inside out of utter heartache, and the sadness I felt was consuming my every move and emotion, one at a time. Well, while I’m grieving, this kid is asking me to cash app individuals out here on the streets, so that they then can get the money to their “person on the inside” where then he will be giving my boyfriend drugs, in order for him not to be sick or to make the sickness at least somewhat subside. I have never in

  Are you there Satan? It's me, Morganne. Just wanted to stop in to show my gratitude somehow, for how smooth you've been here lately. Like the slimy, heartless, and vicious snake you are. Thank you for making him choose, whether he keeps his family, including my babies, OUR babies, and myself, or you. This is starting to really hurt my feelings, and I need you to back off before he keeps withering away from society, from reality, and away from me. I can't imagine how great you feel, from your point of view, and never ever getting second place with him or anyone for that matter. It must feel incredible, Satan, knowing the impact you have, and the rank you pull around here, and around MILLIONS of other's homes, like my own. Indiana is just infested, and I mean that in NO disrespectful manner. It RIPS MY HEART OUT, and I swear to GOD, I would give my own life, in order to save each and every one of them, from causing their families and themselves even one more ounce of he

  Are you there Satan? It's me, Morganne. Well, I think I'll just start off where I ended last night. So, here goes nothing. It's still crazy to me, because that wasn't the first incident you decided to ruin for me in a 24-hour time span. You destroyed my morning yesterday as well, but that's another story for another day and time. My babies and I had planned this weekend, plans with him. Now you're not only affecting and controlling my life, while I stay silent, and try and completely cover up and hide his every move, praying once again that God will help me keep it all a big secret, knowing exactly how my babies and my mom will react to him relapsing so soon after being released from 10 months incarcerated. I have to sit here and hide him in the bathroom for hours on end, or suddenly shove him in my car, driving away like a bat out of hell, with no note, no explanation, and no reasoning for our exit once I return, when he can hold his head up straight. I wish

  Are you there Satan? It's me, Morganne. Just wanted to formerly thank you, for coming on so strong Saturday evening. Luckily, my 11-year-old baby was there to witness everything that went down. My son was standing in his bedroom doorway, watching JC, as his face was actually touching the opposite side of the door frame, on the very tips of his toes, with his natural bodily instinct, attempting to catch his fall. I was fortunate enough to visually watch and hear the reenactment, performed by my 11-year-old. In his sweet, angelic, innocent voice, he informed me that the reason he knew he was "on one", is because once JC could control the slump for a minute, he walked back into my sons bedroom, left the door open by mistake, and as Julian Jordon walked by, the blatant view of his rig with no cap on, along with the crooked and burned up spoon was laying across his floor, and the baggy was still sitting on top of his dresser. He said he was so afraid that he wouldn't kno

Are you there Satan? It's me, Morganne. You show no mercy, do you? Zero, not even part of the time. Not even when everything is going great for a couple of days here and there.  This man, the one that completes my soul, just ripped my clothes off, layer by layer, checking the wrist lining of my hoodie, around the ankles of my leggings, spent an intense three minutes dissecting the waist band and down each of the legs, chuckling to himself the entire time, in utter and complete arrogance, proud of himself, almost looking down on me, but it wasn't funny. It scared me, to death. Not in a fearful sense, by any means, but a very "concerned for his well-being" type way. I can't really explain it any other way, so I apologize. I love this individual Satan, I need you to at least loosen the reins a little, because I'm losing my mother freaking mind, one day at a time. j So, if you could do me a small favor, and keep your selfish nosey and bipolar jokes to yourself, an

  Are you there Satan? It's me, Morganne.  Guess there's really no reason for an intro, I'll just continue my conversation from the other day. After he went through the entire house, searching through every closet, every cabinet, every drawer, couch cushion, chair cushion, under beds and dressers, behind the furniture and miscellaneous decorations, etc. in search for... well, that's the beauty in it all. I swear on my children's existence, I have absolutely no clue who/what he was searching for. At one point he had my mother's living room side table, which sits about two feet tall, with three wooden drawers, on its side, with each drawer removed from it, and a flashlight, searching up inside the drawers. I couldn't believe what I was seeing by this point.  Do you understand Satan, that you are destroying my best friend in the universe and his soul from the inside out, one shot at a time? His brain cannot keep up with all of these completely off the wall idea

Are you there Satan? It's me, Morganne Tonight, you've decided the slump wasn't enough. You thought you'd switch it up on me, do something completely off the wall, something completely different. You figured you could catch me off guard, off my A game, catch me "slipping", if you will, huh? You expected me not to know how to handle these sorts of situations and expected me to fail miserably, throw my hands up, and give in. Well, as insane as he has been, I'm handling this situation like a champion if I do say myself. I only wanted to formally thank you, for annihilating my Friday night with him. You know good and well that I don't have my kids this weekend, and tonight was supposed to be a night for just us two, just him and I. We needed this night, Satan. You stole it from me, and from us.  Tonight, I saw the other side of him. I saw the Jekyll/Hyde side of him tonight. He doesn't come out to play often, but when he does, it's super strange, s

Are you there Satan? It's me, Morganne First and foremost, I wanted to thank you, for my most recent blood pressure reading, which was 155/105, in case you were wondering. I'm 32 years old, and the individual who is responsible for helping me raise my two babies, at the most vulnerable age for boys, is currently standing in my mother's garage, slumped over standing up, during our 10-year old's sleepover with his best friend, over fall break.  These are supposed to be the greatest days of their lives, and I feel as if I'm not doing anything beneficial for them, with you around.  I can't possibly raise them the way God wants me to raise them, with you standing in my doorway, every single day, torturing the other half of my heart.  It's really starting to take a toll on my mental state, and it's starting to scare me.  I'm growing weaker, and that is just not my character. I'm a tough-skinned individual, who was raised by the best, and I do mean the

  Are you there Satan? It's me, Morganne.  I see you're up and at it nowadays. I wish I could say I missed you, but I'd be lying straight through my teeth.  I figured we'd talk again, once I saw him holding that thing in his hand, "but it was for the other stuff", not heroin.  Clearly, I was not raised by wolves, this isn't my first or second rodeo, nor was I born in a turnip wagon, I knew what time it was.  I guess I was just hoping you could give me a solid four to five months of freedom, since he just got home after being gone almost a year, of peace and quiet, before you dove straight in.  I honestly kind of hoped you would be a little embarrassed to show your face around here so soon, but I thought wrong.  I secretly prayed that I would never have the opportunity to talk trash to you again, for as long as I live.  In only four weeks, here you are again, auditioning for the main role, trying to run the entire show, trying to stand on me.  It's quit

  Are you there Satan? It's me, Morganne. Do you want to know what I'm most afraid of? More than the dark, more than the dentist, and even more than my dad? I'm talking about the kind of scary that makes your stomach turn, makes your hands kind of sweaty, and almost makes your skin crawl? The type of scary that is far more severe than mice and mosquitos, more than bees and cockroaches, and even more frightening than water bugs that fly straight for your head intentionally, in the most inconvenient times. Above all other fears, I am so fortunate to have, I think I'm most petrified of the unknown. The last four years of my life have been life-altering, proving just how thick-skinned I really am, in yet the fear of the unknown still makes me nauseated. Let's just try and let it sink in for just a second.  Sit there, set a timer for 45 seconds, and just picture it, as you see it.  The unknown.  What is the unknown to you? What does it mean? Is it scary? Maybe for you, i

  Are you there Satan? It's me, Morganne... Do you know the agony and complete meltdown you cause millions of individuals to have, on a daily basis? If they can't have you, they simply do not function. They can't get out of bed, they cry, they scream, they puke, they sweat profusely, some shake, some go to the bathroom all over themselves unintentionally, some go manic, some have road rage and some abuse others. All of these involuntary movements that they physically, mentally, and emotionally cannot surpass, until you free them from the misery overtaking their souls, in that present time.  You have a grip on each and every one of their desperate and wretched minds, causing them to do over-the-top twisted, and demented things just so they can have you again.  These ordinary people turn into straight savages, Satan, the second you start to leave them again.  Havoc begins, panic takes over their brain stem, and the fear of being sick consumes their every move, every action, a

I was trying to get grants and scholarships to go back to college and get my bachelor's degree and started filling out applications one Saturday, a few months back. I decided to share my application essay which got quite a bit of rise out of multiple people, and thought maybe you'd get something beneficial out of the essay. So, here goes nothing. The rubric stated, "Tell me why going back to school, and receiving this scholarship will further your future and help guide you there. What past experiences in your life have molded you to want to go back to college and how will you let these experiences set your future? The future absolutely petrifies me.  The simple thought of the power it has over this planet is enough to put tears in my eyes and chills up my spine. The fear of the unknown and the weight of the world, it so effortlessly carries, are both ironically nauseating, as they are intoxicating.  Although I have not the slightest idea as to what my future holds, and wha

(A poem/letter I wrote to God, about my current situation.) When He's Jekyll, I Hyde What am I doing, God? Are you still up there? Where should I turn? Sometimes, I sit back and wonder, how I let all of this get so out of hand, it's chaotic, entirely out of control, it's not comprehendible, it's super intense.  The words that are used towards me, straight to my face, the phrases used to beat me down, God they're inhumane. I'd prefer being stabbed in the chest. I can't understand it anymore, I just know it's unfair, it makes absolutely no sense.  My lightning-speed reactions to one false move would make an outsider's stomach turn, the way it does mine. I'm not sure how its even possible, for someone so weak, to be this mentally strong, nowadays, brave enough that I hardly even wince.  After the first time, my head hit the wall, my body and mind have programmed themselves to be cautious, its disturbing, I know, trust me. Please, God, watch over my