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.

Looking

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.

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

focus
Focus
FOCUS
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.

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.

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.

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.

Quiet.
Raining.
He's coming for me.




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


byebye






This should be interesting.

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.
Ooh.
Aah.
Yeah.
Anyway.

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.
Shocking.
Devastating.
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~”
Meh.
Meh.
Meh.
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.

Never!

Meh.
You’re more of a dramatist than me, anyway.

Sometimes, admittedly.

Ew.
Banter.
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.

Pft.

Denial would not be beneficial to you Marie~

Bite me.

You'd like that too wouldn't you?

Anyway.
It’s been an interesting...
Liaison.
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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

Elaboration

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...

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.