Tuesday, September 27, 2011

I woke up in a dream today.

its hard to remember what it was about though    an enormous world of shadow A place so dark, you can't see the end   everything hurt    the frozen girl was fully in the abyss  it melted her ice like it promisedbut it was already partially toolate the ice was the rain and it was all around her hitting every side   and now it was asking her questions all kinds of dripping, acidic questions   she denied them forcefully but it hurt   it hurt all the time to keep herself  The power of suggestion was
trying to keep music is pointless   all the sounds belong to Him now   all the words belong to Him now

Him... It... its hard to bother making the distinction
why did i insist on calling Him It again?  i looked through my past entries for it but the reason seemed kind of       stupid

a lot of the things i did seem stupid now

the cacophony in my head subsided just a little. i think i had this problem before too, but i didn't remember. memories from before kept coming back more and more  i thought they had stopped. or maybe it's someone elses memories  hard to tell past the screaming of the ups and downs
Pollution manifested in perpetual sound never stops, but sometimes its quieter especially when someone else talks to meEverything feels so far away from me...

i havent moved from this room in two days and no one has come to ask why   no one has fetched me   no one in my family remembers im here
or maybe im actually not here   or theyre not    cant tell anymore
invisible   always invisible
except here
so this is what Michelle felt

but I can't help the fact
That everyone no one can see these scars even i can't see them sometimes   can't forget though. can't pretend to be who I'm not anymore
A little taste of hypocrisy
And I'm left in the wake of a mistakeHe's here though   He's always here    still kind of far away though
whats taking Him so long?icant see sometimes  but then i realize im just with the eyes shut
thatsfor fighting back    i cut a tunnel through theblackness and it leaves me clear for just a moment A small spot of light floods the floor   smaller each time though    i try to

It's not real, I remember that. It's Unreal, It doesn't Exist  I do   andthelight pours over the rusted world of pretend
And the eyes ease open
And it's dark againwhat am i doing?

I'm pretending to be who I'm not anymore.
oh. of course. 


Trying not to break, but I'm so tired of this deceit.
Every time I try to make myself get back up on my feet,
All I ever think about is this, all the tiring time between
And how trying to keepmymindfromYou

I defend against fear   analyze everything turn it all inward make it yours
     It hits me with depression.
I defend against depression.   it'll be okay just keep surviving until tomorrow and the next day and the next that's all you need to do
          It hits me with apathy.
I defend against apathy   heightened empathy for others keep caring force yourself to care
               It hits me with despair.
I defend against desp-
                    No. No defense. Hit again, and harder.
                         Hit with insanity.
I defend against insanity...



There was a small gas fire in my neighbor's kitchen today. It didn't spread, and was quickly put out. Barely any permanent damages, and insurance will cover the rest. The only thing that couldn't be replaced was a teddy bear, purchased on the couple's honeymoon to Ireland for the child they were planning. Said child, now a nine-year-old boy, stared up at my bedroom window, at me, the entire time he and his mother waited for his father and aunt to finish with the fire extinguishers.



Familiar friend
My beginning and my end
Knowing truth, whispering lies
And it hurts again.

What I fear
And what I try
Words I say and what I hide
All the pain, I want it to end
But I want it again

It's still the same
Pursuing pain
Isn't worth the lie I've gained
We both know how this will end
But I do it again


Saturday, September 24, 2011

trying to be invisible doesn't work very well, does it?

it's either very obvious what you're doing, or it shows through anyway, no matter what you try.


i can't help but wonder how some of you are

no thats not right

i need to

a moment

I don't have much time. There's never a lot of time between, the amount of effort it takes to focus, to throw off each new attack, is too much to sustain. It's here now. The monster. Just traveling up and down the streets, staring into houses, getting angrier and angrier the longer it takes. The entire neighborhood is wracked with depression and irrationality, but I'm the only one who knows why.

Twenty feet away and It still can't find me.

Not that that seems to benefit me much; either It's pulled out all the stops in terms of mindfuckery or I'm just weak and worn down. But that's not thegoddammit no!

Fuck. But there are children in my neighborhood, obviously. I printed up a bunch of counterfeit government notices saying there was a predator in the area and parents should keep their children indoors. But I couldn't leave my front lawn. It wasn't... It wasn't so much the threat of pain that kept me from taking a step further, it wasn't a goddamn invisible fence and a shock collar. It was a lack of desire. I wanted to stay where I was. I couldn't make myself want to leave, no matter what I did. So I emailed the notice around instead, using my mom's Women's Club account. That'll be taken as credible, but I hope to god no one replies. I deleted the record of it being sent, but still.

I hope even more that they'll listen. Every little bit helps. All the same, It doesn'tohgodthishurtsseem interested in finding new prey, It just wants me. So maybe these kids'll be left alofuckfuckfuck-

Shit I can't keep this up. Just keep moving, all of you! Stay alert, keep your heads low, and don't trust Christian. Give him the information he wants, but DO NOT trust him!

And the girl. The frozen girl. She's not that anymore, she's a


dammit this is important...

She's a singularity. She exists.


I feel like it means

i don't remember.

all i can think of is

the music

I'm not yours, and you're not mine,
But we can sit and pass the time.
No fighting wars, no ringing chimes...

We're just feeling fine.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

nobody's home

i'mnobodyi'mnobodyi'mnobodyi'mnobodyi'mnobodyi'mnobodyi'mnobodyi'mnobodyi'mnobodyi'mnobodyi'mnobodyi'm nobodyi'mnobodyi'mnobodyi'mnobodyi'mnobodyiher'mfeelingsnoshebohidesdyi'mnobodyi'mnobodyi'mnobodyi'mnobo

Monday, September 19, 2011


"As the day dies,
Tears in our eyes.
There's too few hellos and too many goodbyes.
Silence answers our cries
Of 'Where are we going from here?'

"Who do you ask, when no one really knows
Where we are going from here?"

I found another package for me when I got home yesterday. This one was... well, I guess you'd call it safe. I guess. It was just my video camera. Apparently it arrived in the mail, back from repairs, nearly two weeks ago. During that time when I was... "out of touch", I guess.

I checked the footage on its internal memory. Footage of that day in the underpass, the very last thing it filmed before I dropped it and broke it. It was still intact.

...Apparently I accidentally clicked the "record" button again as I sat down to cry, because there was a lot more on there than I remember filming.

I just... I can't even process this, okay?! It wasn't there, I swear on my life that monster wasn't there with us! I don't remember Bay asking me if I'd heard something, I don't remember turning around. I just remember dropping my camera. We both sat in that tunnel for even longer as I tried to fix it, and if... if It was watching...

...Was Bashawn being followed? Had he been marked because he tried to help me? He never mentioned anything, but with the way I had been acting, he probably knew better than to come to me with any problems he might have. Oh god I hope he wasn't. I already know it's my fault he's dead, but to think that he was suffering for me too...

Why didn't I think to call him after the fire? Or any of our other teammates for that manner? Any one of them could have been in the building when it happened, but I didn't even fucking think! All I saw were old memories spinning around in my head like the worst kind of deja vu possible: the kind you sort of saw coming, but suppressed the knowledge of it because it was too terrible to consider.

And now I'm home. Dealing with parents again. They heard about the fire on the news, so they're taking it easy on me without my having to explain much. It's so much easier to lie when no one asks you questions. But I'm not going to talk about them anymore. Maybe then they'll be safe. It's an idea based on a highly outdated theory, but it's all I have to go on now.

Bay always kept a pendant on him. A chain with one of those watertight medicine containers on it, only he didn't keep pills in it. Instead, he kept a Bible verse. I have that case now, verse and all. It was taped to the lid of the... of the box. I guess, as a final memorial to him - and to the 48 children and 5 teachers we both served - I'll print it here.
"How can a young man keep his way pure? By keeping it according to your word. With my whole heart I have sought thee, don't let me wander from your commandments. Your word I have treasured in my heart, that I may not sin against you."
Psalms 119: 9-11
...Now I remember. It's only September. Actual work hours for our team don't start for another month. Bay was just there as a volunteer rather than getting work study money, giving and giving and giving of himself like he always fucking does. He never seemed to run out either...

Well, until now, anyway.

All I see: A future full of fear.
Never ever touch, never ever feel.
I can never whisper in your ear

I'm sorry.

Saturday, September 17, 2011

I got a birthday present...

"Have you ever felt this way before?
'Cause I don't wanna hide here anymore.
Take me to a place where nothing's wrong, and
'Thanks for coming,'
Shut the door."

It's all wrong. Forgemaster and his weapons. Green Man and his precautions. They had built up more wards and defenses around their home than I thought was possible after Nick got shipped off, but that didn't stop the normal, the everyday, the mundane. The regular old postman.

Because it's my birthday today. My goddamn birthday. I'm 23. So it's only natural that I should get a birthday present.

I... I can't deal with this. I can't do it. The memories, the images, the sounds. I want it to stop and it won't. I try to find the entry point, the single thought that starts the spiral. It's like it's invisible, it's like my mind isn't mine anymore. It did something, It had to have. During the missing time. That's the only explanation for why nothing will respond anymore, why I can't seem to see anymore. I feel blind.

I've been blind. In my grief, my complacency, my selfish desire for comfort, I had become stupid. I broadcasted my position to the entire fucking world, even when I've clearly stated that it's my policy not to do something like that. Don't publish anything about your current location until you're already in another location.

And yet, I still get the feeling that even if I hadn't done that, it wouldn't matter. Nothing anyone does seems to matter lately.

...None of you knew Bay. My friend Bashawn. The boy with the golden voice, who sang songs with me and didn't laugh when my low notes went flat. He let me borrow his iPhone for an entire day and trusted me to bring it back, even though we had only known each other all of 4 days back then. This is the guy who asks you how you're doing and expects an honest answer (if you feel like giving one), not a cursory "Good" or "Fine". He had never met a stranger in his life, my friend Bashawn. He had no family, so he made every single person he met into his family. None of you knew that, but I did.

Bay sheltered a stranger just because I asked him to. He gave that stranger money to help him get back on his feet. He dedicated more time to non-profit and charity than any person I've ever known, led a glamorous life as a professional singer, got a 4.0 in his night classes, and did it all with a smile.

He held me while I cried in a smoggy highway underpass, without asking any questions at all.

Forgemaster and Green Man didn't know that, didn't care about that. All they knew was that an insulated box arrived at their doorstep through the mail. The fucking postal service. No black plastic trash bags, no tree branches, no spill, no mess. Just a box. A box packed with ice to keep its contents from decaying and smelling and alerting the mailman. Completely legal and official - stamped and notarized and marked with "Fragile" and "This End Up". All the pomp and circumstance that Bay would have laughed at but that I'm enraged at, because he was my friend. Bashawn Moore was my friend, possibly the greatest human being I've ever known... and there he was, reduced to a mere fraction of himself in a cooler the size of a large shoebox.

When I saw it... when Green Man and Forgemaster finally let me by to see what was in the package addressed to me, what they were so horrified about... I screamed. I screamed and screamed and backed away and banged into things and fell over and screamed some more. I'm not quite sure when I stopped. Or if I've stopped. At least the burned bodyparts at the preschool were unrecognizable. This... This was so much worse.

This way, I could see clearly, so clearly, the last look that lively, expressive face ever made.

...Judging by that expression, his end probably wasn't pleasant.

I... don't know what else to... or even if... I don't know.

There will be people looking for him. Not here, maybe - Bay never set foot outside of New Jersey in his life, and Nick's apartment is reasonably far from the state border - but better safe than sorry. Or so my hosts told me.

Or so Green Man told me.

He wasn't a big enough asshole to tell me happy birthday at a time like this, but he did make it clear that he didn't want me and the trouble I bring in his home anymore. But he would take care of the box. As a "favor".

I thought about telling him no. I contemplated begging him, pleading with him, please don't leave me alone, please, please. The images will intensify, the sounds will twist, the memories will be made real. This headache I've never told you about won't go away, this cough I only have when I'm alone will get worse. Please, I'm sick, I need your help, please don't make me leave--

But I didn't. I... I didn't want to.

"Thanks for letting me stay over. It was nice of you."

Please, just let me hide here, let me pretend here, let me feel like, just once, there's nothing wrong...

"Thanks for coming."

Shut the door.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

The Children

"Never ever talk, never ever smile,
Knowing that my life won't be the same.
Never ever touch, never ever feel.
I will never hear you call my name again.

"In my dreams I see, see you come to me,
A memory of times of old.
Waking up, I realize Hell's as cool as ice
And the touch of sin did get me in.
Nothing burns like the cold."

The children. My children. My poor, beautiful, kind-smart-important preschool children.

I swore I wouldn't abandon them. I knew they could be in danger. They were before, they could be again. Losing three was too many, I couldn't bear it if I was responsible for more.

But it wasn't like last time.

This time they found the bodies.

Lots and lots of bodies.

I... I still remember that cape. That little children's sized capelet in royal blue, spangled with stars. Marianne wore that cape when she was pretending to be the fairy god-wizard assisting Kimberly, the magic princess, as the two of them quested to slay the dragon and rescue Anthony, the captive prince under a spell to sleep for nineteen bajillion years. I don't think I've ever been more proud of my children's imaginations, that day. But it wasn't blue anymore. It was black. And nearly in two pieces, with tattered ends and a ripped hem. Tainted with smoke and ash.

And the people. I knew some of them. Kimberly's parents didn't speak a word of English, but their grief and hopelessness didn't need words. I can still picture Nathaniel running into his father's open arms every day after school, but today the man just looked shocked and lost, like he was certain this was only a bad dream. And Asaiya's mother... I never thought that woman could get off her cell phone long enough to even notice her child, let alone scream her grief and rage to a helpless police officer who could do nothing to console her. She kept fighting to get past, desperate to reach her baby girl because she knew, with all the certainty of denial, that she could find her if the stupid guard would just let her pass...

But the building was ash. Smoke and ash, with a few charred walls still holding up a shell of the building that was. I remember choking on the dust and stench, coughing violently and falling to my knees. And I remember the teachers, every one of their faces, now burned, mutilated, and unrecognizable. They tried to breathe life back into one of them, only to cover her with a cloth and move on to the next. Ms. Noemi was her name. I don't think anyone but me knew that.

I knew the teachers wouldn't be able to take it, to understand. I knew they wouldn't be enough. I swore I wouldn't leave them alone, wouldn't leave the kids unprotected. But I forgot. I got complacent. I got selfish.

I left.

And now they're all dead. Every last one of them.

Smoke and ash.


I'm at Nick's apartment. I came here on autopilot, I think. But it wasn't until I knocked on the door and was surprised to see Green Man answering it that I realized Nick wasn't there anymore. He's off somewhere. Doing brave, heroic, important, selfless things.

Michelle isn't here either. We both heard the news on the radio that the school had burned; it's how I knew I had to come back. Read it there if you want to know. I had to see, I had to get confirmation. So she's going back home without me. I made her go. I didn't want to leave her alone, and she very nearly refused to leave me, but she's only got one shot at getting her past back, and I'm not going to keep her from that.

Obviously Kay can't be here. But I've stopped calling her house; the answer is always the same. It's selfish, but I can't keep this up. I need to...

...I don't know what I need. I don't know what I'm doing.

Just... please, I need everyone to understand that. I don't know what I'm doing. It's true that I came here for a reason, but it wasn't this. Oh god it was never supposed to be this.

I don't know what I need, I don't know what I'm doing, and I don't know what to think. Everything always leads to something else somehow, and I can't find the connection, I can't break the loop. I try to copy down the endless faces sweeping behind my eyes, faces of the dead and worse than dead, but everything just turns into doodles of operator symbols and iconography and one rather graphic image that I recognized, and stopped before it got too far. It was the one from the song again, but combined with the branches, they're on every side now, so near and yet never making contact. Unable to touch. The abyss has eyes, but she doesn't anymore, they were taken from her. The abyss promises that her mouth, her voice, will be next.

I almost wish I had accidentally sliced my hand with the pen somehow. Drawn blood. That would have been appropriate.

...That shouldn't be there. That shouldn't be there at all why did I think that whydidI

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

What Time Is It?

"Time is a valuable thing.
Watch it fly by as the pendulum swings.
Watch it count down to the end of the day.
The clock ticks life away.
It's so unreal." 

So. Much. Happening.

I really don't know how to react to most of it. Michelle wrote it better than I could, because it's really confusing.

To be brief, we lost time. We think. I'm not entirely sure, because I lose track of time all the time when I'm reading, or working, or looking things up. Never a half hour or an hour at a time, but with how little sleep I've been getting lately, I could just be nodding off at the desk. It happens. But it got to the point where we thought it was a full week earlier than it actually was. Not a day. A week was somehow collectively lost in those little skips, and that's not right.

Later on it was more pronounced, and at the same time less obvious. Two days were gone all at once, and we didn't even notice it. It wasn't until this morning when we randomly had the hotel's TV flicked over to a news station as we packed up that we even realized what had happened. Because they mentioned the time and date. So then Michelle spent the next 20 minutes asking random strangers what day it was like something out of a bad sci-fi flick...

I couldn't tell you how I feel about all this. It's almost as though there's not anything to feel, since, to me, nothing out of the ordinary has happened. It's as though the world simply shifted around me a few extra rotations in my sleep, but nothing's changed for me.

About the only thing that does bother me is a Twitter message I don't remember making...


In other random bits of news...

The hurricane knocked down more wireless networks than I would have thought possible. The only ones left around were the ones that charged exorbitant prices for it (and thereby had sufficient motivation to get them fixed in a timely manner), so we used cafes and such every so often for a while. But what with all the moving around we've had to do trying to hunt Corey down (whom we found, actually; again, check Michelle's blog), checking things online just seemed less and less important.

We were wrong about that. Oh god were we wrong.

Kay is... getting worse and worse by the day. Things got so bad for her while I was "gone", I... I don't know what to do anymore. Even her mind is toxic; I tried to help her when I was there last time, but it all just pulled me in and until I could stand it no longer whenever I got in too far... I've called Ryan a couple times, but he says he can handle it... I think Nick and I made him nervous last time we were there...

Speaking of Nick, he's apparently back around! At least, I'm assuming that's him behind the comment on Kay's blog. Knowing some of the crazies that follow him around, it might not be. But I did get a text message from him earlier today. And yet I still have no idea what's going on.

Morningstar, Elaine, and Spencer... God, I don't know what to say to you three. Michelle came home in a complete rage yesterday three days ago, and we more or less beat the subject to death, but very little of it bears repeating. Suffice it to say that  I will fully believe it when I see it and talk to you in person myself. Preferably with me armed and you not, just in case. And I do have to wonder, if you were really more-or-less free all that time, why the fuck you did all that to Michelle and her family? But... I'm hopeful, Luke. I really am.

And Schrodinger... Emma... I'm so, so sorry. I was right there, trying to figure out a way to get around Cheshire, but then time moved again and I forgot to check back. Even if I couldn't have done anything, you deserved better. Oh god, you deserved so much better.

As for me... well, I do feel like I've gotten more sleep lately, so I'm not ruling out the nodding off idea. Sometimes I feel like I'm heading downwards into apathy, except when I force myself to have a reaction. Really think for a moment what it's supposed to be, and then act it out. I listened to Tip of the Iceberg all the way through the other day. The images didn't stop, but they were less... less disturbing, I guess. Like a scarey movie you've already seen before. Which is odd, because I always jump at scarey movies, even when I know the scare is coming... Or maybe I just can't feel her anymore. The girl. I didn't feel the man anymore after Michelle cut the tree down, so maybe she's dead too, and I'm just watching an image.

That is... a really weird notion to entertain, actually, but c'est la vie. Or... c'est la cetta vie, anyway.

But I will admit that it bothers me that this doesn't bother me. And I've been feeling... a tad light-headed, if I'm honest with myself. Why would that be?

I'll probably be offline for another few days. At least, I hope it'll only be a few days. Corey gave us a hell of a lead, so we'll be moving on. Need another half a day or so to reestablish our scheduling and make sure to watch the clocks this time, not to mention plan out where we're going and do all those things a normal road trip requires, but it shouldn't be a problem if we're careful.

By the way, my officially strategy for keeping track of time: Set our watches to beep every hour, on the hour, then instantly write the hour down on a pocket notepad. Except for at night. Not much I can do about losing time at night. Not that it matters, even if I didn't sleep even less than Michelle now.

I'll probably do a formal write-up on the subject of lost time later. Right now it's getting increasingly difficult to gather my thoughts.

...That should probably be more disconcerting than it is, actually.

See you all soon. Hopefully.