Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Words, Words, Words...

Words are fucking hard sometimes.

I broke him. I feel like... maybe, maybe, maybe there was something I could have done to stop this from happening. Ages and ages and eras and eras back. Responsible. I was cold and cruel and mean and I couldn't have just given him a little more. Just a little more maybe. Maybe then he'd be okay. Well and alive and okay.

I can dream. Dreams are silly though.

There's this ache... it comes up between the moments where Lissie is holding me together and Shaun plays some comfort song to keep me from hiding myself entirely. It's guilt. I know the thing for what it is. And it is guilt. It's nauseating. It never goes away. And I think I deserve it.

Between the moments where Lis has her hand on mine to remind me that I am not alone and I am no longer bound and the moments where Shaun gives his sage-words of true comfort and sympathy... I retreat. Back to that moment. Could I have changed it? If I had been less petrified and thrown and betrayed and hurt... if I could've gotten a handle on my emotions, could all this damn ache have been avoided? I'm normally better than that. I keep my composure. I hate weapons.

Seems terribly selfish. My primary motiive. Make my own aching stop. I've never been to great at giving. Or getting. Where does that even put me on the social scale of givers and getters? Puts me in the 'I don't like people, not really at all, leave me alone because it's just easier that way' category. Where does that even fit into the spectrum? It doesn't. It's an outlier.

Ah yes. There I am. An outlier. A product of my own making. A societal freak of nature. Unwilling to receive or give trust.

I am fighting my own nature. Moment by moment I am fighting it. I want to go back, years and years back when it was so, so, so, so terribly much easier. Back, way back... to right about 8 years old. When I could trust and it was easy. When mom would tell me "Dad will be home in 136 more days," and I believed her. I believed her because she was my mother and I trusted her and trust was easy and not impossible. I believed her when she told me her Tiana was the sweetest, most beautiful, kind and caring little girl she had ever met. I believed her because she was my mother and these things were still true.

I was kind.
I was sweet.
I was caring.
Beauty was inside and out.

I have learned bad habits as I've grown up. I've grown out of childhood niavety, but I wish I hadn't. I wish I was still beautifully unmarred by the coldness of the world and the reality of the situation and the cynicism. So much cynicism. I wish that I could be childlike in my worldview, but adult enough to know the value of that worldview. Unfortunately I am only the latter. I drift in and out. Between hoping and wishing there's still that ache. And I know the world is not the place my childlike perception would have had it.

I am not 8 years old and I am not blessed with a kind, caring, trusting heart. And I am here. He's not. Won't be. Ever.

I'd never killed anyone before. And I trusted him. Myself. Us. So well.

My nature says retreat further Tia. Reatreat and shut them all off. Just keep them out. It will be safer for them. Safer for you. Because you don't like people and what could they possibly like about you? People are changeable, malleable, untrustworthy things Tia: reject them all.

I can't do that though. That's not fair. Not to Lissie nor Shaun nor the comforts they provide me. They're not people I tell my nature. I don't have to like or trust people, but these two are not people. They are worthy of my trust. They are not people, my cruel nature, they are my friends. I won't retreat. Not from them. They deserve better, so I will give them better.

Found and Lost

We found her.
Approximately an hour after that post went up this morning, I recieved an email from someone I've been talking to a bit over the last month or so. No name's given, ever. I have my suspicions, though. And I'm not overly happy with where those suspicions lead.

Shaun's been keeping me steady and focused. I feel like I'd have been flying in five directions at once if not for his getting me to focus better. It wasn't exactly panic. Something else. A mixture of manic energy and depressive anxiety, oscillating wildly. In all of this, this is the deepest anger and fear I have felt. For Tia. Maybe caring too much is a weakness, but if it is, I don't want that level of strength.

Anyway, I recieved an email with a street address in it. Nothing more, nothing less. The location was outside of the range Shaun and I had been searchign the last few days. There was some understandable supiscion, of course. I mean, obvious trap, right? Right? It was the only lead we'd gotten, though. I left some stuff behind at the hotel, but we moved into gear. We took a taxi from the hotel, and had the driver drop us off a few blocks from the location. Not an unreasonable precaution, I think. We stashed a few things and then went to check out the location.

Sure enough, the truck was parked outside. Is it bad that I'm glad that my truck wasn't trashed? I mean, I know it's selfish, but having a reliable vehicle is a plus.

The building seemed abandoned, but it did have power. That much was obvious. We made our way inside, and started searching. There was a basement apartment. Blake was there.

There was blood in the room. A good bit of it, too. The blood led off to the bathroom, where the shower was running. I was honestly almost afraid to go in, but I had to find Tia. No matter her state. She should have had to. She was there, huddled under the ice-cold spray, sobbing. We got her out and dried off, bundling her up against the cold. She was shaking so hard. I want to stop that pain.

Blake is dead. Shot with my revolver that he'd apparently taken from the truck. Believe me, I checked. I had to get the keys off of him, after all. He was dead when we got there. Probably happened not long before that post went up this morning. Tia's not talking.

That's when things went even more to pot for a little bit there.

Twisting, warping. Tearing. He was there. Standing over Blake. I called for Shaun to get Tia out. Maybe it's more accurate to say shouted? Cried? I followed, but it took a moment to get my legs to work properly. There are colors still. Colors and shadows and awareness. Blank spots that I wasn't even aware of before. Funny, that. This isn't about me, though. Can't focus on that right now.

Blake's gone.

We've been driving since then, and have finally stopped. Maybe we should keep driving, but Tia's not in the best way. I don't think there's anything physically serious, but... yeah. She's not talking about what happened. She's shocky, which obviously, I don't blame her for.

Blake was the most stable of the three of us, which is, of course, why he just had to fall. And possibly why he fell so hard. I don't want to know the extent of what happened in that little basement apartment, but on some level, I'm going to need to. Eventually. Comunication is invaluable. I'm hoping we can get her talking about at least normal stuff soon.

We have to figure out what to tell his family.

We'll manage. We have to.
We have to heal. Somehow.

It's Still Cold in Alaska

I'm so so sorry... I hope you find peace Lover.

Tuesday, December 27, 2011


Haven't found Tia or Blake yet. We're going to keep looking. She's not dead.
I'd know.
Shadows in my eyes and tired, but I'm steadier. I suppose I should just start expecting fun days to go wrong. We'll find them. As to my last post, am I not allowed to be angry? As always, I regret things I say. I'll deal.

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Merry Merry merry

Compared to some I've been around
But I really tried so hard
That echo chorus lied to me with its
"Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on

He took her. He kidnapped Tia and stole my truck, stranding me and Shaun at the hotel. In the snow.  No. Nononono. 
Music. Breathe.

Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection.
The lovers, the dreamers and me.
All of us under its spell.
We know that it's probably magic.
Have you been half asleep and have you heard voices?
I've heard them calling my name.

See, the thing is, Blake, sweetie, you want to protect her? You want to steal her away and keep her locked up to keep her safe because you love her? It doesn't work that way, buddy-boy, if it's against her will. You are not the dashing prince in this story, sweeping back in after going missing, to save the princess. You are, if anything, the witch keeping her in a tower. You made a mistake, turning her into the damsel in your head. But you know what? You want to play Ladderlocks, that's fine. Let's play pretend. Just keep in mind what happens to the prince, my dear. And I don't think her tears will heal you in this story. You've got worse things to worry about than anything else that might be coming out of the dark after you... If things haven't gone a certain way before I even get there. I'll probably regret saying this within ten or fifteen minutes of posting it anyway. I regret lots of things. Heh. I don't want you dead, don't worry. I just want you incapacitated. I want you incapacitated a lot. This is not something you do to someone you claim to love. This is not something you do to my best friend.

For life is quite absurd
and death's the final word.
You must always face the curtain with a bow.
Forget about your sin.
Give the audience a grin.
Enjoy it. It's your last chance, anyhow.

She shouldn't have to make this choice. You have no right. Neither of you have any right to do this to her. Why? Why them? Why anyone? How much do people have to hurt and suffer? Shepherd, you're a dead man. No matter how long it takes, even if I have to go down, too. The second you touched them, you were dead. This is not a game, and even if it were, you are not the one controlling the pieces, sweetie. You never have been. You like to play pretend, though. That much, I've seen. You like to pretend that you're in control and manipulating things yourself. You make me laugh. Oh look, bravado. This should be amusing. Bit late for that though, isn't it? No. No, because you want me to want you dead. You want me to want to hurt you. I... No. Nothing doing. I

Sing for the bartender, sing for the janitor, sing
Sing for the cameras, sing for the animals, sing
Sing for the children shooting the children, sing
Sing for the teachers who told you that you couldn't sing
Just sing

Need to do something. Breathing is a good start.
...Have a very Merry Christmas, everyone. I know mine will be memorable.

watching me. watching me. watching me.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Guess who showed up?

Shaun met up with us today. I've been talking to him a bit, and since he was apparently getting restless at Bondie's I figured I'd invite him to spend Christmas and maybe a little time after with us. I didn't want him spending the holidays streeting it, especially this far north, so yeah. Here we are. It's nice to see him again, and Tia definitely agrees.

I'm getting a few things ready for tomorrow. It's been a while since I've had much to look forward to on Christmas. Crossing my fingers that I can allow myself to now, even with everything.

Friday, December 23, 2011

In Memoriam. Because.

I had planned to do a post yesterday, but I am, for once, in no place to mourn the loss of people I never had the fortune or misfortune to meet. There is nothing in that area for me to say that has not already been said. May they rest in as much peace as they can manage, if that is at all possible.

Loss is a terrible thing, honestly. To lose someone you care for, someone you feel responsible for is no better. Shep offered to send me pictures of the state of the Sinclair house. I feel sure he knew I don't trust him as far I I can throw him. Which, given the differences in our height and weight and the fact that I'm not exactly... Yeah, I need to stop go off on a tangent.

Marie Jenette Sinclair. The vast majority of her posts on this blog have been unpleasant at the very least, and needlessly cryptic at times. Except for perhaps the very end there, she was not the girl I had promised to keep an eye on and protect. This much became obvious in the emails she continued to send me after some time. They were hurtful and bitter, barbed and intended to make me hurt, but it was no less than I deserved, yeah? I left her.

Do I feel guilt over her death? Yes. Despite everything, Marie was my responsibility. Maybe if, as soon as it had become obvious that she was awake, we had gone back to Alabama, this could've been prevented. I could have done something, as unlikely as it sounds for someone as ineffectual as myself.

Instead, she's dead, and her parents were slaughtered like so much cattle. I should've been there, even if it meant that I would've died as well or instead.

Marie was not a bad person. She never was. She was hurting and twisted by something outside of herself. There was an inherent frustration to her posts and emails. Whoever did this killed not someone who could even attempt to fight back. They killed a diabetic, paralyzed, weakened, brain-damaged, and mentally-altered teenager who was defenseless, and by all accounts, given into that state fairly willingly by her parents. That is the act of  a coward. Especially if Shep is right and it wasn't Slim Jim.

I'm going to leave this here, but I had to get this out. People are going to contradict me, of course, but this, on some level, is my fault. The least I can do is remember the good parts of her.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Two Minutes too Late

The walls are still covered in blood. It stinks. Don't touch the walls. It's caked on like wet paint that someone threw everywhere. Careless.
The parents are dead. In the main room. They didn't matter too terribly much anyway.
It's everything else that is disappointing.
Marie is dead. Must be. This much blood could only come from 3 human bodies. It doesn't smell like another beasts' blood. No. This is human.
Two minutes too late. As in I should have been here minutes earlier - I might have saved... well let's not dwell on the details.
He, whoever he is, took Marie's body. He must be a he, you see. Marie explicitly called him such. She was smart you know, smarter than she let herself onto be. She was growing. She was not at her end, she still had progress still to be made.
What a terrible waste. All this mess.
She was going to rise. These were not the plans I had for her. Not at all. This is not the work of our Tall Father either, no. No. Nonono. This is someone else. He took my piece from me.
I've failed.
Not to say I hadn't accounted in options in such a case as this. Nono, don't be mistaken. I have. I will continue my work anyway. It would have - no. I've failed this day. Someone was dreadful wasteful.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

He's coming for me.

lissie, i'm sorrysorrysorrysorry.
i'm a bitch.
forgive me.
tia, forgive me. 
please come back.
no, don't.


This should be interesting.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

A Break in Silence

You may have noticed a bit of a... quiet spell from me over the last few weeks.
That was my fault.
I’ve had a visitor.
Oh! Who could he be?
Not long after dear Blakeykins got abandoned by darling Tia, I woke up to an unfamiliar face.
Highly novel, considering all I’ve seen are mother and father for the last few months.
Other than a few Visitations.
We all get those though don’t we?
That’s beside the point, though.
Mother and father are hardly good conversationalists at this point, anyway.
I was a bit of a disappointment, really.
Not quite what they expected to Deal with.
No mind, that’s not important, after all.
They are terribly insignificant creatures, I would find. Despite what knowledge they claimed to have. It’s unfortunate that they fail to see the potential in their spawnlet - and even themselves. They are the true disappointments here Darling.
They can’t go back and change this little mistake or take things away.
Not that I’d want them to.
Anyway, my visitor.
Who is currently peering over my shoulder while I type and playing the peanut gallery, apparently.
I’ll give you three guesses as to who it is, and the first two don’t count.
You’re all complete idiots if you can’t- oh I’m sorry that’s not polite talking is it? Here. I’ll give you all a hint. Wait, no I won’t. I’m not nice enough for that.
I think it’s a given that they’re idiots.
A bunch of slavering idiots and betrayers and murderers and scum.
Calm down Darling. They’re all those things. We can’t change their retardation.
I’m calm.
Totally calm.
Anyway, my visitor has been none other than the illustrious Shepherd.
Isn’t my Darling Marie just the sweetest of girls?
I haven’t tried to run over you with the Chair or strangle you in over a week.
I call that sweet.
I’m ever so grateful.
Anyway, unlike the sweet and ever so sinless and heartbreakingly saccharine Elisa and her dearest Tia, he actually came to check on me.
I wonder if those two have jumped each other yet.
After all, they don’t have darling Blakeykins to get in the way anymore.
No, not yet.
Sure of that?
Bet they’d move on right quick.
Seem to make a habit of it.
Nah, you’re probably right.
That wouldn’t vibe with them, most likely.
“Oh, too soon, too soon~”
But then again, maybe I’m just fucking around.
Maybe the bestest buddies in the whole damn world are gonna stay just that.
Not likely.
Quit messing with my flair for the dramatic.
You’re more of a dramatist than me, anyway.
Sometimes, admittedly.
Is that what I’ve come to?
Though admittedly, he does have his... charms.
Thank you Darling.
Not that I saw them at first.
Or wanted to.
Boning is not high on my list of priorities at the moment.
Considering the whole paralysis issue.
You liked it anyway.
Denial would not be beneficial to you Marie~
Bite me.
You'd like that too wouldn't you?
It’s been an interesting...
We’ve been discussing, well, plans.
Happy Holidays, ladies.
Do stay safe.
I do hope you ladies are doing well, wounds healing and hearts moving on and all that lovely nonsense. It seems as though the positive thinking has been doing you two wonders - daresay it I might be proud of how hard you to struggle on! So proud. I wonder how Blake is doing, and where he could be? I hope he's not a part of that cold mess you are a part of! It would be a terrible shame without a car and proper clothing, wouldn't it? Well, I'm sure he's enjoying himself. Somewhere. Seeing as we all seem to be at the moment.
It’s been a pleasure, Marie. I shall miss your company terribly over the next few days.
I'll return shortly.

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Firewood and Christmas Lights

It's cold here, Lissie told no lies. It's a bit chilly. I might be understating. I might have woken up to see snow lining our window. It's quite lovely. Lissie thinks it's... "shenanagins." I'm not going to complain, however. I like getting in snowball fights with strangers young and old. I like making snowmen and snowangels and the snow sculptors who emerge early on these mornings.
So out I went.
Played I did.
Dragged Lissie along kicking and screaming (I kid, she only protested so much. Giving her cocoa lightened her mood by miles).
Despite the cold on my nose and the chill on my cheeks, there was that smell of warmth in the air. Like firewood for the chimney and the charcoal the wood will inevitably become. The smell of freshed cooked meals and cinnamon in your cocoa and ginger in your cookies. It smelled warm.
The friendliness of christmas wasn't just trees in the windows and lights on the houses. It was there too, but it was in the hellos and the friendly waves and the red sweaters and the scarves wrapped twice around your neck for extra warmth. It was everywhere, just like Lissie's said. It was in the snowflake that fell just on the tip of my tongue and melted away. Fresh and cool and welcoming.
We're doing well, we're doing surprisingly well. Even if the snow's melted by now - it'll be back later. So will we. Promise. Even in all the dark on the outside, right now we've got ourselve protected with Christmas lights and firewood. We're doing just fine.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

I warned you never trust those elves!

Very much to his disliking,
Santa spends all night hitch-hiking.
With a sign that reads, "Ho ho slow down,"
Santa Claus is thumbing to town.

Every car just drove right past him,
And sped right out of sight.
Santa never got to ask them
To drive around the world in just one night.

It's weird that even here, all the way across the country from the place I've called home for years, with a sense of foreboding always present, in a hotel surrounded by strangers, even here it's starting to feel like Christmas. I've been doing some baking to keep myself occupied and distracted, and it's been... nice. At least here.

Sure, as I've said, there's always that presence, that need to look over your shoulder because there's something there. But you can't let that cripple you. I've been sick as a dog over the last few days, which really is not fun with still-healing ribs. I'm dealing with it and Tia's been looking after me, though.

 It's funny, these moments where things honestly feel almost normal. You can't revel in those moments for long, of course. Complacency is an enemy just as much as anything tangible is.  But you treasure these moments. You treasure them, and when things are dark, you look back on them. You look back on them and say: "Oh, that's why. That's why I'm persevering."

It's been oh gosh, six or so years since the last time Tia and I spent Christmas together. It's funny, being around someone who you don't even really have to talk to make things work. It's just comfortable. We know eachother and it just meshes sometimes. There's been christmas songs playing off and on in the hotel room we're staying in. Not complacency, just making the most of the moments we have.

I've been fretting over people, of course. I always do. It seems to be my normal mode of being. Worrying over people I've both met, and people I've never even gotten the nerve to speak to. That's always going to be an issue, I think. No matter what, I'm just... shy and feel like I can offer nothing of value to people's situations.

Then there's the dreams. They're more of the same, really. Nothing that most people wouldn't expect, given the situation, I guess. They've just gotten worse due to the meds, maybe. While I really dislike the meds I'm on, they do make matters easier, and it gives Tia one less thing to worry about.

Anyway, I have to figure out how to do Chritmas shopping for people that I have no idea of their locations or if my own location will be steady. Mrf.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

The Battle with the Heart isn't Easily Won

Falling out of love is hard business. Especially when you're - you know - the hard battle girl. Yeah. It's not something that's easy to talk about, but I think I need to. Even if I'm the one that did the breaking it off bit. There's still all those little bits of feeling that can't be left to linger.

You have to deal with them one at a time, slowly. Pay them all the same amount of attention - they deserve that much at least. They all have the same heavy weight of meaning. The candle you burned on your anniversary, the silver spoon you passed back and forth when you ate ice cream from that ornate glass bowl his mother gave you, the songs you used to sing together on long drives, the favorite movie quotes you used to pass back and forth at the drop of a hat - just because you could. You have to accept that these things still exist - but they don't mean what they did before. You have to put the spoon aside and give the songs new meaning and maybe throw the candle away.

There's more than just those physical things though. There's still those little things that confused strangers most, the not so obvious things. Like the way you would dance with him on the subways to no music but the music in your head. And that was good enough at the time. Or there's that little subtle glance that tells him he needs to kiss you right then, or the poke at his side that's a reminder for him to sit up straight. And that was good enough at the time. The way you knew what the other would get at a restaurant before they even verbalized it, and that was more than good enough.

After you've been with someone for so long... you start to build your life around them. You know them better than you know yourself - so it would seem sometimes. You feel the way they feel and know instantly when something's off and you start to have a rhythm. Normal sex on Mondays and Fridays, Wednesdays are kinky experiment night. Saturdays and Sundays you visit friends and family, and Tuesdays and Thursdays are your maybe if you're not too tired tonight nights. Of course, the pattern extends beyond bedroom schedule, it goes so far as Tuesdays you wake up early to make breakfast special, on Fridays you go out with him someplace you've never been before - maybe it's a museum or maybe it's just a different part of town or maybe it's just a tree you've never paid attention to in the park you frequent.

It's all... built for you. You don't actively realize when you do it. But it's you make this life for you and he and you both fall into it so comfortably that nothing could possibly be bad with it. You get comfortable. I got comfortable. Comfortable is a scary place to be - don't let happy people and romantic comedies fool you. Comfortable is the worst place you can be in a relationship sometimes.

It was good for us - the unexpected move. It took us out of pattern and comfort. Don't let Lissie tell you otherwise. Don't let Blake fool you with his bitterness. It was something that changed our habits just enough to keep us from being that perfect couple. No one wants to be that perfect couple, no matter how idealized it is. It gave me hope.

...having it end was something I would not have seen coming. No matter how prepared I claimed to be.

Was I prepared? Not at all. It's too late for that now. Now it's over. Now I'm at the point where I have to stop rambling and accept that not all is well and as it was. I have to accept that Wednesday will no longer involve discovering something new about leather and skin, Saturday is no longer about having lunch with his mom or mine, and dances on the subway will never happen with him again.

Falling out of love isn't all about ending it with him. It's about... it's about discovering yourself without him again. It's answering the question "what are you unattached?" It's knowing you'll survive.

Friday, December 9, 2011

Do You Like to be Surprised, or Do You Prefer Anticipation?

(I personally prefer Anticipation)

I needed a happy-spot over these last couple of days and I think I found it. Everyone should know I retreat to book-land when I'm looking for it. So I found a new book. And finished it in less than a day.

If you can read anything for the Christmas Holiday, if you've the time to read at all, read Dash & Lily's Book of Dares. Even if you don't celebrate Christmas. Even if you hate the holiday season - and even if Christmas makes you especially vomitous. Even if you want to wallow in misery and bemoan the cruelties of life. Read it.

It's delightfully optimistic and romantic with ups and downs and young, sweet ideals of love and lovers and maybe losing your virginity - or just your first kiss. Read it because it might make you laugh or sniffle or smile or maybe even feel hope if only for a millisecond.

Be proud when you march into the teen fiction section of your local bookstore, searching for it alphabatized under Cohn (or maybe Levithan if your bookseller was confused when shelving) and pick up that book off the shelf. It needs someone to read it. No, it doesn't matter that it's targeted at the teen market, it's well written and we all need some nostalgia from time to time. Sweet, saccharine nostalgia.

You need a book to read. I needed that particular book to read. I think I can smile for a bit now.
Read it because it's hopeful, and let's be honest, we need some hope right now. 

Read it because I dare you to.

"I knew the truth: It was so much cooler to be the weird girl." -pp. 54 Dash and Lily's Book of Dares.


Happiness. It seems like such an intangible thing these days. With all the deaths and pains and everything else, one must wonder where such a concept would come from right now, and why.

It is simple. There are no "happy ever afters". None. I mean look at it, stepsisters slicing off toes to fit into glass slippers and little girls cutting their way out of wolves' bellies. Happily ever after doesn't come cheap, that's for sure, even if it does exist.

Now, I hear you asking, since when did Lis become such a pessimist? I'm not one. I am a realist. Despite everything, despite my seeming naivete, I am a realist. Despite my opening myself to people and letting myself get hurt, and seeming to trust overmuch, I am a realist. Despite wanting to take away the pain of the world at times, I am a realist. I take risks as they are needed and despite the words of others, expect nothing in the way of positive or negative return.

No, the reason I say this is that "happy ever after" is a static concept. Happiness is not static. It is something that you have to strive for every day of your life. Through darkness and pain and hopelessness and even, at times, loss. Things can get so very dark, but you keep fighting, because that's all you have left.

The events of the last month or so are what led me to think about this, I guess. I mean, it's probably stupid and not very well thought-out, but I kind of wanted to write it down for everyone to see. Even if only to point and laugh at it.

We hit Washington state last night, and reached our destination. We're set up for the moment at a hotel, and it's actually been pretty interesting. It's so cold up here! Oh my gosh! How do people live up here for years? Call me a snowbird and a wimp. Well, it's not snowing here yet, at least. I'm kind of glad of that. Snow is shenanigans.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Today was Hard

Really, really hard.


I think it'll be easier just to show you.

And this was inside them (excuse my non-existant photo manipulation skills):

(you should open the massive image files in a new tab... better resolution to make it readable.)

Needless to say I'm less than pleased with the day. We made it to our next place for the time being. A little closer to the west coast, not quite there yet though. Soon.

Monday, December 5, 2011


I'm going to try not to be overly emotional. Meaning I will probably fail. But I'm going to at least attempt it for everyone who reads our blog so that they are properly informed of the situation.

Blake has been... well I think it's obvious from the previous posts. He's not been himself. He's very kind and loving and puts everyone else first and thinks about every action and consequence before doing anything. I know most of you are just taking my word for it, but he genuinely meant for good things to come for people. He's normally a very loving man. He does things that are unnecessarily kind and unfathomably sweet.

You know that we went to Barcelona on a three month leave once over our years together? Well, for our anniversary that just passed he had recreated our trip on the roof of Hope (may the building and all who fell with it rest in peace). He had wine and tapas and flamenco music and it was really a beautiful night. Of course my favorite part had been hiking up to Montserrat and Sant Miquel de Fai, but you can't really bring that part to a rooftop dinner can you? At least we had some height.

And that was the man that I loved very, very much.

...he fucked that up today.

It was early, we were all tired admittedly, but there are no excuses and he crossed a line. You know we were only discussing where to go next? We were just talking like normal and then Lissie interrupts him without thinking and all of a sudden there's a loud smack of a noise and Lissie's crying and covering her just barely recovering face and his fucking eyes were all wrong. He just wasn't him. The Blake I know could hardly harm a fly, and Lissie? Oh that's several steps beyond a fly.

The very first thing I did was pull her behind me and clarify very specifically that he had indeed crossed a goddamn line and he would not be travelling with us or even me whilst he was still behaving badly. And under no circumstances will I change that. No, while Blake is behaving irrationally and angrily and badly he will not be in Lissie's, and thereby my, company.

I don't think I've glared that hard since... well since Micheal, but before that since High School.

We left then. It was deceptively easy. Our things were already packed and we had everything in the truck. We just threw him his two bags and booked it. Drove for like 6 hours before we even stopped for the lady's room break. Food was take-out and unhealthy, I'm surprised we both managed to keep any food down considering things though.

I didn't even kiss him goodbye. I just walked out. I didn't know... I could do that.

I'm not going to lie, this stings, it stings a lot. Like when little angry bumblebees are buzzing about you because you're their flower and you won't yield any pollen, and then they're dropping dead around you because of all the teeny tiny angry pokes at your skin. It hurts like that. And hundreds of little bees leaving their venom inside of you makes you tired, drowsy, sick, nervous, wishing for the perfect antidote. I guess victims of angry bees are lucky that an antidote exists at all aren't they?

I, however, am not so lucky am I? It's okay. I'll survive. It's what I do after all.

I'm tired now.

'Oh god, now when's the time for me?
Oh, when will you see me through?
Oh god, mind is eating my heart out
Oh god, my heart is beating my mind out.
Oh god I can't believe in you
Just because I'm afraid you're true.'
-Ida Maria, "See Me Through"

I. what

We left blake in the last town... He hit me and was yelling and
...Fuck's sake. Everything's coming apart.
The look in his eyes...

Friday, December 2, 2011

Off. Everything's Off.

I'm not feeling right. Still. I pushed the girls to start moving anyway. I'm going to survive. Whatever. My head aches all the time but we've been stationary way too long and maybe the place is contributing to the way everything's grating on my nerves lately. I'm antsy. I know it. It's off. I'm trying not to be.

Every little thing though. Just rubs me the wrong way. I'm going to pull myself together.

If it can be described in medical terms, it's like I've developed acute paranoia in the past week and a half and I'm trying to keep it where I was before. But you know, this recent development keeps me from keeping my calm.

And, you know, seeing things doesn't exactly help. I don't think I need to clarify on the sort of things, do I?

Apparently I'm paranoid schizophrenic now. Delusional, hallucinating, paranoid, argumentative, angry, inappropriate emotional responses. Is this the part where I just go 'eh, it happens'?

No, no this is the part where I pull myself back together. Or try to.

Guess we'll see.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Looking Back on Things.

The tears I feel today
I'll wait to shed tomorrow.
Though I'll not sleep this night
Nor find surcease from sorrow.
My eyes must keep their sight;
I dare not be tear-blinded.
I must be free to talk
Not choked with grief, clear-minded.
My mouth cannot betray
The anguish that I know.
Yes, I'll keep my tears till later:
But my grief will never go.
-Anne McCaffrey, Dragonsinger

On top of everything else, one of my favorite authors died this past week. It's funny how someone you've never met can have such an impact on your life, can draw you out of depression and the like. I'll always remember finding one of her books in middle school, and being lost n a world of dragons and firelizards. Books and painting have always been my escape from things. These days, books moreso, for a few reasons, though I still paint and draw. I haven't had anything I've felt worth posting recently in that area, sorry.

Back on subject. If a writer of fiction who I have never met died, and it has impacted me so, how much more does it impact me to have multiple people that I consider friends, no matter for how short a time they were, die? Exponentially.

I'm fine, though. Blake's been a bit... on edge recently, after the incident, and that's understandable. I apologized for the way I was acting, though in my opinion he rather overstated just how... unstable I was at the moment. I don't hold it against him, though. We're all stressed right now, and Tia's worn thin trying to take care of both of us. I really should do what I can to make things easier.

I've never really liked pain meds, to be honest. It's not for the reasons Tia was saying or to make myself some kind of martyr or the like. P'sh... Me, a martyr. That would be a litle silly. They just... make my head feel funny. No matter what kind I take. It's a bit annoying. That and the drowsiness is not my friend at the moment, but at least I don't really dream as much when I'm on pain meds. Small blessings.

I'm sorry for anyone I made worry and anyone I've inconvenienced by my getting hurt. Believe me, I'm not having fun right now, because of it.

...Anyway, I thought that little poem at the start of this was fitting right now. Way too fitting.

We're probably going to be moving on again really soon.

Monday, November 28, 2011

Silence is the Loudest Noise

Everything is going to hell. We all know that. We've seen the blogs. Elaine's. Shaun's. Lucas and Joel's. Others. Some of those people, you know, don't even have lives anymore. Which, to say the least, is heavy. It's a lot to take in since I got back. And since Lissie got back. I was never as close to any of these people as she was... but she's very close to them.

So, you see, she's having a worse time of it than I am. I... understand. I feel bad, but... she's... Lissie's being Lissie. And panicking. And Tia's having the temper her. And make her take her meds.

"Quit trying to wallow in your pain. Just quit it. Everyone's lives are shit right now Lissie. Fine. I know... I know it hurts, but you need to survive. You need to do that for those people. And not taking your pain meds when you're in pain? Is not fucking surviving." And then Lissie mumbles excuses and then Tia insists further and Lissie makes faces.

She took them eventually.

I have to hear these interactions between this woman I love and her irrational, panicked best friend and I worry about the stress levels of these people and it's all wrong. And it's fucking loud. It's quiet now, in the literal sense of the word, but it's so fucking loud and I'm so tired and I can't...

I want to protect, I want to be there for her, but it's hard when she puts herself in this place where she sacrifices her own semblance of sanity for someone else. But that's what I love about her, you know? She's just that sort of person. She'll do that for certain people, take herself to the brink just to keep them from it.

Certain people.

I need more rest. I'm not all right yet. I'm trying. But I'm still vomiting and cold and tired and raw. It's hard to sleep at all. I'd like a little peace.

Sometimes I wonder if we'd never... but then again no. That's Tia. And I would've left her if I didn't love her for being her long ago. I'm sticking it out. I'm... We're. We're going to be just fine, isn't that right?

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Where the Heart is

Home is where the heart is right? Guess I'm home again. I'm really, really, very tired. And feel like shit. Vomit again. Sleeping all the time.

Need time to recover.
Don't particularly feel like talking about what happened in the time between Lissie and Tia getting out and me getting left behind.

Not forgotten. Just out of reach.

Shepherd wandered away for a bit... managed to get free, wandered a bit myself. Guess Tia and Lissie had been looking for me, so they found me. And now I'm back.
Still feeling out of it.

Shaun, I was keeping it vague in the hopes that we'd be out of reach for a day, not for a week. I had been hoping he wouldn't find us. I was hoping for a good day. So much for hopes eh?

Currently feeling a little out of touch. I'll maybe give another update when I'm feeling up to it. I don't think we should be staying here longer as a result of my health.
We've got to get going. For the girls' sake.

For Tia's sake...

Saturday, November 26, 2011


Been puking all night, off and on. A lot of it's blood from my nose.  Wonderful. As I read more of what we've missed in the last week, I'm making myself sick again. Can't help anyone. Shep was right about that. I'm just a useless, pointless, worthless brat of a woman, who only makes matters worse. This is not self-pity. This is a statement of fact.Tia's not going to like seeing that when she wakes up. Oopsie.

We're staying in the truck tonight, and I can't really complain. At least that means We can get away from the smell of sick of need be. Things... I hate being on pain meds. I keep seeing things on the edge of my eyes. And unlike the lovely descriptions said by some, it's not Him. Or not just. Have to ignore it. Focus.

Blake's not dead. This is not me in denial. This is not me saying "if I say it enough times, maybe I'll believe it." He's not dead. But I can't. I can't let this be like Marie. I can't. I've never claimed to be able to help anyone, only claimed a want to do so. I know it's probably a pointless endeavor.

I refuse to stop caring, though. No matter what is tossed at me or us right now, I refuse.

twisting and turning and falling and burning. have to make things right. my fault.

Friday, November 25, 2011

Tendrils Dark are Eating up the Light

Do you know that feeling, like when you don't know where to start a story? Like when you wish it was just a story and nothing real at all? Like when you're stuck thinking 'If this were just a story, it would be much, much easier to tell'? All the jumbles of words can't seem to coordinate themselves into a proper sentence and we're just stuck... staring into the dim light of your computer screen, asking yourself, repeatedly 'Where do I even start?'

That's where I am, right now.


So tell me, where do I start this story?

On a roller coaster. I start this story on a roller coaster. I'm going to openly proclaim right now I never want to ride a roller coaster again. I never want to see fair food or hear jingling key chains or see smears of spilled slushie on hot cement. I used to have fond memories of these things. I don't anymore.

Maybe it starts when we got off the roller coaster. When did the people start fading out? I'm not really sure when the park started emptying or the dark started settling in. When did the air go stale and still? I'm not sure where things started going wrong. It seemed like all of a sudden things just weren't what they were before and suddenly we three weren't together anymore.

They like leaving me alone in these places. They like having me run about and look for people in large empty spaces. They like giving my panic attacks because they can. I think in a cruel way, they like making me feel the need to release my lunch everywhere. You know, and then I actually do. It happens. Happened. A bit. Maybe more than a bit. I'm feeling a little prideful about it.

I kept a handle on it though. It wasn't so bad this time you know? No curling in on myself. No falling asleep and thinking 'well this is it'. None of that self-deprecation shit either. It's not my job, according to certain other members of the party.

I didn't sleep much over those days.
Too full of energy.
Didn't eat much either.
Wasn't hungry.

So I looked. I looked hard and long. And I found what I was looking for, eventually. Blake was on one of those big swinging ships, strapped in, passed out. I had no idea how to operate the thing. It seemed to be operating on this infernal timed loop. Stop. Start. Go go go. Stop. Start. Go.

So I waited. Eventually it stopped again. And then I went and grabbed him quick as I could manage, before it started up again.

So now I had a passed out Blake on the loading dock of this swinging ship, and I'm crying and screaming at him to wake up, because I need him to wake up. I need him to wake up right then.

And by some miracle or magic choice of words, he does. He snaps his eyes open and he's there with me again. The rush of relief right then? Unspeakable.

After a time I manage to get him walking, and it's back to looking. I keep his hand in mine. I never let go.

We found Lissie in the fun house after what felt like a whole nother day of looking. She barely awake in the mirror room. I found her by her manic laughter. It stopped when we got into the room. Turned to a more sick gurgling. All the blood in her throat. It's a miracle she didn't choke on it.

Oh god that was a sight to see.

Zip-ties, curled in on herself, blood under her finger nails (not entirely sure that it was hers), nose a shambles, neck bruised and caked with dried blood, ribs broken - again. When we cut the ties off her, she could hardly stand on her own. We didn't make her.

She guided us out, she knew how to navigate it, someway or another. Maybe it was instincts in this place, maybe she's got a talent? I don't get any of it, but I'm practically dragging the two of them out, Lissie coughing out her guidance.

I still hadn't let go of Blake's hand.

He was right there with us. Right there. Next to me. He felt that first breath of fresh air. That life again. And then he was being dragged from my grip. Dragged. Clawed. He clung. I clung. I reached. He reached back for me. Everything was warped.

A face. There was a face behind him. Or the shape of a face. A warped image of a not-face. Seen it before. I couldn't hurt it. Never could. Couldn't sway it. Couldn't make it's grip on Blake loosen. Me? Just a non-consequential being. Powerless. Everything distorted in that moment. Suffocating. Somehow.

I couldn't pull Blake back. He was out of my grip. Then he was gone.

I'm getting him back. Don't you think for a second that I won't.

Thursday, November 24, 2011

We're All Adults Here... Let's Chat.

Trapped. Knees, ankles, arms. Curiously enough, not hands. Crude. Free now. Is it mad to pray for better... hallucinations? Now that I see this place for what it is, it's crude. Like a high schooler stitching together plagarized bits of literature for a report. You barely know what you're doing with this whole thing, do you? You're a child gluing together bits of colored paper in preschool and hoping it makes a picture.

Funny, that. I'm not sure how I can tell, anyway. I see the seams of your stolen bits or "reality" though.
Shepherd, was it? It hurts oh god, it hurts, but now I'm laughing. It's a high, manic sound, and I can barely stop it, even to breathe. You're going to want to hurt me more for that fact, aren't you? You don't strike me as the kind that likes to be laughed at, Shep. Too bad. I rather like laughing, and even if it hurts, I don't see myself stopping for a while.

I'm going to find them, and we're going to get out of this. Maybe I'm a mouse, maybe I'm useless, but I'm learning. And almost nothing you can do will stop that. For better or worse... With the way things are going, I feel sure worse on one level or another. Well, I can think of a few thngs, but no matter.
I'm the weak one, right? I'm the weak one. Go for the weak link. Heh.

Come on, then. Let's talk.

I've been seeing that thing off and on a few times while we've... I've been here. At the moment, I will not dignify it with a name or even a gender. I am tired. I am tired and it is wrong. Forever watching. Wearing things down. Even here, things warp around it, tearing and.... I hope Tia and Blake are okay. At the moment, if they found some way out and left me, I wouldn't hold it against them. But when would I ever?

...Tia won't leave without me, though. Even when maybe she should.

No. Not going to think that way. Not going to think that way. Shep, sweetie, let's have a chat.

Monday, November 21, 2011

Roller Coasters

So Tia loves amusement parks right? She gets a thrill from roller coasters and she loves the park food and the little games where you can win things, plus the little souvenirs. She's got a really soft spot for those little key chains you can get with the little logos from each amusement park. She's got one from Disneyland and California Adventures and Magic Mountain and Universal Studios, and pretty much every other theme park in California too.

Not to mention all the coasters in Las Vegas she's quested to ride, and the trip we took out to Florida just for Legoland. And when we went to Paris? We were at Disneyland Paris before we made it to the Eiffel Tower. She's got a fondness for Amusement Parks. I think I've made my point.

Anyway. She needs to relax a little, and maybe Lissie'd be able to let go a little, so we're taking a break and popping into an amusement park tomorrow. Hopefully Tia'll come back with a new key chain to clip onto her collection and it'll be a nice day off. Not that days 'off' really exist, but a day without driving and relative happiness would be appreciated by all of the party, I'm sure.

Friday, November 18, 2011

We're Out

Sorry Hope people. Sorry everyone, but after yesterday I think it's time we moved on.

I talked with Lissie about it and she agrees.

There's some things we need to move past - literally and figuratively both.

Hope has been a wonderful place for us. We've grown and learned here and we may regret not staying longer later on, or we may not. But it's been plenty a while, it's been fun, and this is a sort of "See you later everyone!"

We'll be back. Or we'll see you all again. Or something.

We'll work it out. Thank you.
Nonononono. He's not here. He's not anywhere.
The man that I feared is dead to me. May he never cross my path. The man that I feared died to me years ago. The man that I feared is dead to me. The man that I loved is all that remains. The beautiful. The positive. The time before I feared him. The man that I feared is dead to me. May he never cross my path.
It's not him, just someone who looks like him. It has to be. Logic.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

To Conclude

A genius with electronics had arrived at Hope when I was looking through the Helikite, whose name I later found was Alex, one of Elaine's rescues. He's a real wiz though. Found a camera on the kite, and it would've taken me twice as much time to decode all that nonsense that was on it. Little thing tried to crash my built like a solid block of concrete laptop.

That was cute.

Not to worry though, we managed to figure out the files and see what all was captured. It was interesting to unlock and everything, but I really didn't care for what we found on it. And I don't think that needs much more clarification.

It's in Elaine's hands, and she's capable enough to take care of it. So we're going back to normal socializing and such here for a while.

Tia's invaded Lissie's for a bit, after Marie's post this morning she wasn't feeling so hot. I'm going back to working from home now and finishing this program I had on hold whilst I finished the camera project.

So that's pretty much it.

Oh, and tomorrow Tia and I have 3 years behind us. So there's something special I have planned. Should be fun.

Good morning, sweeties

And your unmatched taste in people to care for continues to serve you so well, Elisa.
You make me sick.
People "love" you?
Love you?
You who abandons people and breaks promises?
You who doesn't even believe you deserve notice, much less love?
Oh yes, I remember those talks, Elisa.
What did you do to make dear Michael slip?
Why was 'he' thanking you, darling?
Oh, I imagine you'll say it's none of my business, of course.
But you've stopped replying to my emails, and I just had to check on you.
After all, I'm your responsibility, right?
If that's what makes you feel like you're any better than me or anyone else.
Oh, and Tia?
That post was fucking saccharine.
Not your drunk little fuck-up, but that was amusing in itself.
As was the thought of the two of you mugging someone.
Don't worry, Blake, I feel sure things are going to be just dandy.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Agh, people

Okay, we've had people at Hope all along, but it oddly feels more... full at the moment. Or maybe it's just my head. I don't know. August and Doc arrived yesterday, and today, Elaine and Shaun got back with the kids that they and Konaa went after. Not that I mind. I'll probably just hermit myself away again for a bit.

I'm glad they were able to get at least some of the kids away from there.

There was also a slight incident yesterday, before Doc and August showed up. A... guy with a kite with recording equipment attached to it. Tia and I dealt with it handily, with some support from Lucas. Guy claimed to be a student studying meteorology for college. We confiscated his equipment. I did rather try to be polite and diplomatic, but he freaked.  Well, people can fuss as much as they like, but in this case, I freaking love private property laws in Texas.

Blake's taking a look at the equpiment from the kite, and will probably take it to someone who knows more about the device that it's supposed to be. He does say it looks rather patched together, though, so we're doubting it's a piece belonging to any professor.

All in all, at things weren't exactly boring while Elaine and Shaun were gone, but they weren't bad, either.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

An Open Address to all Lissies

It's 6:31. Your 24 hours are up. Hopefully the positive attitude will continue anyway.

You're a brat.

You're also a sweetheart.

People love you.

You'll learn to live with it.

Maybe you'll even think you deserve it someday too.


Dance, Fucker Dance.

It was a good night. And then it wasn't.

Shoulda stuck to drink'n lone. I didna know... bout... bout things. Not my place to say. M'sorry everybody. I did a bad thing.

And it all started cause a stupid anger. Stupid, stupid anger.

fuck that word righ now.

Yea, you, you get a lot of fuck yous in the face. You know how many times... how many times making Lissie cry is too many? NO? Let me make it abundentally clear that you crossed that line fucker.

I am not happy bout it. Nosirree.

...olordy Lissie'll read thisinthemorniggg...

fuck it. ss'allready mornin.

m'really, really sorry.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Nostalgia dump-friendship

It's funny when you think of first meetings. I talk so much about friends, about Tia. Tia's my best friend. She's the only one who would have me for years. She'd deny that. She'd reflect the words back at me, but it's true.

Halfway into Sophomore year. Nearly a year after the incident which shattered my life. The skinny bastard, I hear you say?

Just general, life sometimes falls apart, screwed up-ness. It's funny how your peers treat you when your mother runs your father out of the house at gunpoint, he leaves town, and nobody explains why. It's funny what assumptions are made when you have a sudden shift of personality. It's funny how things change when you let yourself be a victim.

I let myself be a victim.

Nearly halfway into Sophomore year in a mid-sized town in southern Alabama, I was alone as I'd never been alone before. I was scared of the world. Why? Because people exploit weakness. Especially teenagers.

I was getting picked on. Again. Messed with. Again. Pushed around. Again. People exploit weakness.

There was a new girl at school that day. On her first day, she stepped in and defended me. With words and with fists. I was in shock. Funny, that. Someone standing up for me surprised me more than the torment itself. Only a year ago, I would have been able to deal for myself. Funny how people let you fall when you break. When your situation is no longer viable for what they see as the requirements for their friendship.

She got sent home, of course.

As did I, even though all I'd done was sit there on the floor and let people do what they would. Funny how that works. Funny how in this world we are in, in the schools, the victim and defender are punished just as much as the aggressor. Well, possibly not just as much. I'm not here to talk about the state of the public education system, though. We'll save that for another day.

Of course, I had to go back the next day. Of course.

Doodled my way through classes, answered questions they thought I wasn't paying attention to. The usual. Tried to ignore people in the hall. Things slipped into my locker. The usual. The lunchroom. Sitting alone again as always. The usual.

Or not. This girl comes over to my table and just sort of sits down. I watched her for a long moment over the top of my book. Of course it was the chick from the day before. Of course. That's not embarrassing in the least, some random stranger deciding to step in on your daily session of being bullied.

She was new in town. On edge, especially after the day before.  All I got from her that first day is that her name was Tia, and her dad had gotten transferred to the Army base near town. I apologized for the day before, of course. (I always apologize) She just frowned at me for that.

She didn't necessarily want to make friends at first. Said her family moved too much, anyway. Somehow I managed to worm my way past that, though. She needed a friend. She was angry, bitter, and far too used to leaving people behind. And well, at that point, my pickings were slim. Besides the fact that she ended up having my back in later incidents as well. Honestly, I said it back then, and I'll say it now. I appreciate the sentiment of threatening someone for my sake, but it's not worth that.

She became one of the best people I've had in my life. More than I would dare to ask for. Tia could do much better than some broken little... mouse for a friend. I was rebuilding, though. I always rebuild.

We were friends for two and a half years before she moved. He father got transferred again. All the way across the country. She got distant again when she found out. After all, we had promised to be there for each other. We had promised no to let the other get hurt. That we would see each other happy.  And we both so hate to break promises. We talked. We decided to finish out the year like nothing was going wrong. We would stay in touch. I was stubborn about that. I couldn't lose another friend after Jared killed himself.

People don't always leave. People don't always abandon you. I repeated these words to her more than once in those last few months.

And we did stay in touch. Life went on. Things changes, we lost people. We gained people. We were there for each other through our highs and lows. Whether over the phone or over the internet.

Hell, this is the person who, when all of this started just some months ago, picked up and drove to Alabama from California simply because she was worried about me. Because she wanted to protect me.

People look at us and see what they want to see. A tall, strong, independent-seeming, gorgeous woman and a small, fragile, shy, dependent-seeming, cute girl.  There's so much more there. So much more than what's on the outer layer of things. So much more than what someone might see as possessiveness. So much more than the shaky attempts to drive us apart. You do not know the half of it, even with this post. And you probably never will.

Saturday, November 5, 2011


And I'm not feeling overly creative about titles right now. Mostly, I'm just tired.

I got to come back to Hope yesterday, and yes I was 'delivered' by the proper time. I have no idea why. I don't really remember all of what happened... And I've no idea why I was even held either. I really... there's not much to say about it.

There's this bruising on my back and Tia can't figure out what caused it, and we've discovered about 4 broken ribs which have only been aggravated by the vomiting I've been doing. My wrists are messed up. Tia thinks they're going to scar.

I remember zip ties being involved. And flashes of things. A concrete room somewhere, searing heat, the stench of sweat, a flash of clean-cut brown hair and a pair of glasses, a smooth voice that said things I don't remember. The things I recall are all disjointed. "You care - so silly - broken - won't you eat - damn fool - miss your Sparrow - Fine." Pain is the most prevalent memory. That's pretty much all I have. I don't know where I was or what he looked like or anything useful of the sort.

Maybe I shut down? Maybe that's why I got 'boring' for the Shepherd? I can't really tell you, to be honest.

What I do know is I'm back with Tia. And I'm able to sleep in a bed and eat properly - and that's even better when the food decides to actually stay down. I couldn't be more grateful. I'm going to take it easy for a while. Back to sleep with me.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

Fine. Fine.

Fuck. You. Sheperd. Give him back. Givehimbackrightnow.

You son of a goddamn bitch. You give him back or I swear I will find you and break your little neck in half. First though, first I will make you regret ever coming near him. I will break so much of you and make you feel humiliated and angry and vengeful and incredibly goddamn stupid for messing with my man.

I'm not giving up here on my end, and I know he's not going to give into your little games either. I know him better than to think that he'd break just because you think you can break him.

Because you think you can break us. Fuck you Sheperd. He better be here at Hope before 4 PM or I swear, I will find you. Don't even think I'm joking.

Now I know he didn't just go. Now I know he's being held. And I will not tolerate your bullshit. I will not.

Also, we want Lissie's truck back. And if you tail him back to Hope, I will know. I will find you, and I will break you. I will break you harder than you could ever possibly imagine one girl could manage with only her hands.

That's the deal. 4 PM.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Patience is a Virtue

Elaine went out looking, as did a few others, apparently, and thank you all. But... there's still no sign of Blake. I'm not saying the panic's growing, but... it is.

I really wish I knew where he was... but I don't at the same time. I just hope he's okay. And I'm still... confident he hasn't up and left. Just it doesn't read like that. And he wouldn't just leave me. They don't all leave eventually, and I know that, as much as my head says otherwise.

There's this sinking feeling I'm getting and it makes me want to look, but I don't want him coming back and me not being here, so I'll wait patiently. And keep myself together in one pretty piece. It wouldn't do to fall apart would it?

And I'm at Hope. I'm holding onto what I have of my own hope.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011


I... am not going to panic. I am not going to panic.

I am not going let my abandonment issues and fears of being alone cause any accelerated heart palpitations, trembles, dizziness, nausea, or anything else like that. Lissie's here. And I will be rational.

Blake... is not home right now. This would not... normally be an issue. We encourage each other to go out, take time to ourselves, hang out with people not each other. Long term relationships get tiresome and sometimes we need different people or just ourselves. That's fine. It's encouraged. It's well needed.

The problem? Blake left Hope 16.5 hours ago. No one else in the house has seen him since. Now, that's fine, considering he told me he'd be going out. He said he was going to go into town and get away from the laptop for a bit. Maybe hit a cafe or something. I was glad he was getting out. I was happy to hear he'd be breaking his routine. He said he'd pick me up some gardening essentials from the shop on his way back to Hope.

I know why he went out. In two weeks it's our 3 year anniversary. I know why he didn't want me to come with him. It's not that it wasn't obvious. It was. But he plays the excuse game well, and I play along.

But he said he'd be home in time for dinner.

He's not.

You know how often Blake misses dinner? As often as I miss my morning work out. It happens about once a month. He missed breakfast too. Bed's untouched. He's just not home.

I'm worried. I'm not going to lie, I'm scared sick. And I want him back. So I'm going to hang out with Lis, keep my panic and trust issues at bay, and I'll see him when he gets back. Because he'll be back. It's still early, and he'll be back. There's no other option. That's all there is to it.

Saturday, October 29, 2011

Voicing Opinions

Micheal has come back to Hope. I've mixed feelings on the matter. Now, I didn't see him break, and I didn't see him go, and I didn't have to watch people defend themselves. Generally speaking, he seemed to be a nice enough guy.

In regards to Smash Bros? Rematches will have to be had.

However, Tia saw him breaking, hard. And she saw his potential to hurt people. Yes, he drugged Lis. But somehow, I think in his view of reality, he was protecting her. And maybe himself. I know that's not exactly the normal view of things. It's hard to say, I'm not in the guy's head. I don't think I'd want to be.

The thing about my chosen partner is Tia doesn't trust easy. She tries. She really does. But she just doesn't trust. It's not in her nature. People have left her, time and time again, and she doesn't want to see that happen to Elisa. Maybe that's why she tried so hard to keep contact? She didn't want to be like all the people who left and gave up on her before? All vague theories on their relationship, but from what I know of Tia, once someone leaves, it's hard for her to let them back in. And, admittedly, Micheal left. And she didn't get on with him shiningly anyway. She's not as good with people as she would seem, just a select few.

So, his return to Hope? Hasn't been exactly what she was blissfully looking forward to. I see that, but I also see all the old issues she has and we've had to work through in our own relationship.

Lissie and Tia reconciled earlier today, but Tia still worries. And she's overprotective. She wouldn't deny it. Especially of Lissie. But it's good to see them not... as awkward anyway.

Me? I'm going to keep an open mind. I can't see any other method of survival in this situation.

Insomnia again

The most tender place in my heart is for strangers
I know it's unkind but my own blood is much too dangerous
Hangin' round the ceiling half the time
Hangin' round the ceiling half the time

Compared to some I've been around
But I really tried so hard
That echo chorus lied to me with its
"Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on"

I'm fine.
Really... I haven't really left my room much since the other day, and things are awkward between Tia and myself, but I'm fine. Yes, I took a risk, letting Michael in when I knew something was wrong. I seem to be slightly talented at that. Do I regret it? Maybe a little. Am I shaken? Maybe a little. After all, I let myself get drugged. Funny, that. But I'll be fine. I always am. I'll get past it. Because that's what I do. Every little break gets patched. It's just a matter of seeing if the whole is stronger or weaker after the mend.

Funny how I seem to be writing these posts at odder and odder hours. Comes from not sleeping much, I guess. I don't feel like dreaming right now. Not with what's been going on. I don't want it. I don't regret coming to Hope, though. It's nice here, even with everything. I've mostly been painting and watching movies on my laptop over the last few days, and I really don't mind that fact. I'm just... uncomfortable around people again. Which is sort of unfortunate, since I'd started to relax a bit. I'll deal.

And Michael, if you read this, I do forgive you. As I said. Because I can. Because it's honestly not worth holding it against you. It'd be completely stupid to get riled up over something happening to me, at this point. Even if it had been something else that had happened... It's not worth it. If I did, it would do more harm than good, in the long run. I'm not unaffected by this. I'm not completely numb, but I forgive you. I will never lie to you about the fact that I care, and I will try to be there for you as much as I can. We all have our problems. I'm sorry I couldn't do more.

We all have our problems.
I'm almost out of my meds. Just a few days worth left. This should be fun.

"Don't say goodbye. Because saying goodbye is leaving, and leaving is forgetting."