Wednesday, August 10, 2011


I got rid of some of the paintings today. Burned them in the little fire pit in the back yard. It was an oddly cathartic feeling, though I had to be careful of the fumes. They're a waste of space, anyway. Funny, that. A waste of space making things that waste space. Tia's not going to like that assertion. Marie's been spacing out worse today, but I've been talking to her and keeping an eye on her. I've been finding more little notes tucked around the house with ominous crypticness on them, but the scanner is acting up again, so I won't bother trying to post them at the moment. I will say this, though. I don't recognize the handwriting, and some of them seem fairly old.

It's been nice having Tia and Blake here, really. Even though it's someone else to worry about. I don't personally know Blake very well, but he seems nice enough. Yes, I'm "talking" like he or Tia might not read this, but I'm trying to be candid here. I may shy away from expressing things verbally at times, but this is where I'm trying to be more real. Oddly enough, I don't think either of them have been directly effected by this yet, even with having come down here. If they have, neither one is saying anything yet.

Hopelessness is an aspect of this situation that I've already started to feel. There's a sort of sense of inevitability at times, even when nothing big is happening. And now that I've said that, something big is likely to happen. That's the way these things seem to work.  I've been working past that, of course, though there are very real legal issues with heading out of the area right now, considering our little group. And yes, I know there are ways to avoid some of the problems, but in the end, it would still look like abduction of a minor. With the few kids who have gone missing in the last few months, I really don't want it thought that I could have done those as well.  If something happens, it's going to be my fault, either way.

I've been forcing myself to eat and stay rested, though half the time it's hard to keep things down. It's not as bad as before, but most foods taste like they're seriously burned or ashy. I know I look terrible, even though Tia's been mostly nice about it.  It's funny, because isn't losing weight what every 20-something female wants? And I've even got a tall, pale, mysterious stalker. *swoon* Oh, and if you couldn't tell, that was full of tangible sarcasm.

I don't even know why I'm writing this anymore.


  1. Yeah, um, fumes from burning paint are not fun, Lis.
    And by the way, thanks for keeping tabs on me.
    It's not like I'm going to go after you with one of your Xacto knives or wander off, but hey, better safe than sorry.

    I don't exactly know why, either, but it feels better than just bottling up everything that's been happening.
    You mumble about the fact that nobody gives a damn, but there are people who are reading this.
    Sure, some of them may just be voyeurs who are going to get themselves in trouble, but it's something.
    We'll figure something out.

  2. Also, that last crack wasn't really... funny. >>;

  3. I know there are some people who care. I'm not that much of a defeatist. As to the terrible joke, it made me laugh, and that's whose benefit it was mostly for.

    Also, why are you up so early, and why are we communicating via comments when you're approximately two rooms away from me? Lazy.

  4. Glad to hear your lot is doing well.

  5. Comparatively, yes. Feels like the calm before a storm, though. There's a very oppressive atmosphere around the house that even having some support hasn't lifted. I'm trying not to be a pessimist, but on some levels, this lack of activity since Tia and Blake got here is too good to be true.

    I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  6. The shoe to drop, and the trap to trip. Don't worry, Miss Elisa, you'll get to go hunting soon enough.
    Just like old times with the daddy that you ran off and the mommy you detached from until she was dying from complications from a car wreck. Won't it be fun?
    Speaking of which, I do wonder what ever happened to daddy-dearest. Maybe someone could find him for you and pay him a visit.

  7. The amount of pain in everything you write is what's tangible. How many people actually PAID ATTENTION in these old posts? Did anyone bother to ask /why/ you were burning the pictures? Ugh. People, I swear..