"Do you think I'm special?
Do you think I'm nice?
Am I bright enough to shine in your spaces
Between the noise you hear
And the sound you like?
Are we just sinking in an ocean of faces?"
News of a few new deaths has come in over the past week. Not sure why I should bother to keep reporting on them though. If you knew them, then you already know what happened. If you didn't know them, then you probably won't care who they were or why they're gone. In the grand scheme of things, does my opinion on the subject really matter that much?
Scott said I could be the new Cataloger if I wanted. I... don't really see what the point of that would be. Cataloger wasn't a title, per se. It was a description of Scott himself. It was something only he was, something only he could be. But... if he really wanted it passed down, for whatever reason, then I'm giving it to Alora. She knew Scott better, she knew him longer, and she deserves it more. She can keep it warm for him when he gets back from whatever hell he's sunk himself into this time.
Zero, of course, had to run off on a suicide mission the moment my back was turned. The one day I decided to turn in early for the night. If that was what he wanted to do, then I won't fault him for it, but I wish I had been around before he left. To say goodbye.
God, how many people is that going to happen to, huh?
How many times am I going to fail to be there for someone who needs my help?
I... I can't deal with this anymore.
I must have started writing this a dozen times. I never could quite get out what I wanted to say, so I just let it go, and let it go, and let it go. But I can't let it go anymore, because it's time for me to make a decision. So I'll just be frank.
My passport arrived in the mail today.
Fat lot of good it does me now.
Michelle's gone, and I don't know what happened to her. She'd been slipping further and further ever since... ever since Becky... but there was nothing I could do, not when I was stopped at every turn.
Even now, something's blocking me. I can call her house phone again, but it just redirects to the "The number you have dialed has been disconnected" message... which at least seems more legitimate than just a sudden silence of the dial tone with no connection at all, but it's also worrying on a different level.
And then, two nights ago, her cell phone suddenly became a different story.
The call connected, and somebody answered. It was Christian, Michelle's friend. He told me what happened. And what happened was... bad.
I... I can't even begin to...
She vanished. No one's seen a trace of her since the night the barn burned. The police think she's dead, and Chris is letting them go on thinking so. But he saw her get away. He saw her start Running.
It saw her too. The monster. Chris said It watched her leave, and then vanished.
It may surprise you all to know that I'm actually a rather indecisive person.
It may surprise you even more to know that I'm also inherently selfish. Do you think I'm special? Do you think I'm nice? Plenty of people think I'm nice, and someone clearly thinks I'm special in some way. But here's a hint: I'm not. I'm not either one of those things.
I know I'm withdrawing again. I know I shouldn't be. But withdrawal is better than panic or despair. Both will only paralyze me, and I can't do that. I have a passport. I have a car. I have things to do.
See you all when I get back. I shouldn't be long.