Things... All These Things...

Marie- Deceased. Unknown circumstances. Last seen in the company of a man who goes by the alias "Shepherd". "Shepherd" denies involvement in her death. Called it "a waste". Later notes revealed her family to be involved in some form of conspiracy. None of the relevant people are alive now, other than Jared. Sacrifice, Bitter Fruit, Poison Thorn

Blake- Deceased. Shot with a .38, hollowpoint. Multiple shots to the stomach and chest. Last in the company of Tia. Had developed paranoia and delusions that he was the only one capable of keeping her safe. "Safe", in this case meant holding her captive in a basement. Body missing. Taken by the Tall One. Lover, Twisted Heart, Betrayer

Tia- Missing. Presumed Deceased. Last seen in the company of Lis. Supporting her as they got us away from one of the anomalies that has trapped those who have been documenting events on this blog in previous accounts. Had cut herself off from all but this small group. Grew more and more protective of Lis and the rest of us over the last few months, but especially Lis. After the abduction a month ago, as well as other incidents, she barely let her out of her sight. The tendrils were encroaching. Champion, Sparrow, Protector, Mother

Lis- Missing. Presumed Deceased. Last seen in the company of Tia. Mostly unconscious, and emanating a "light" to the way out of the anomalous location. Possible hallucination due to the nature of said location. She and Tia sacrificed themselves to get us out. Had been suffering increased amounts of weakness due to physical wasting, despite preventative efforts. Also had started to suffer from an increase in her "synesthesia" in ways that fall outside of the definition of such, after the incident with the sensory deprivation tank a month ago. Bloodstained Handmaiden, Heroine, Dreamer, Hummingbird, Delphi

Jared- Living. Injured. Whereabouts unknown beyond a note saying he'd "keep in touch" and that "there's always a light, she showed us that. Bloodstained or not. What she did was a final 'fuck you' to those who would have used her and used Tia against her. Especially after all that's happened over the last few months. They'll be watching you still, remember that, kid. I know you're not going to want me around after this. You're not the type. It was the girls who were keeping that from being an issue. You can take care of yourself. Even if it means lying low, that's probably a better option than my modus operandi. Take care of yourself, okay? For them, if not for you." Toppled Knight, Rusted Armor, Hidden Face

Kailin- Living. Increasingly cynical. The desire to be alone and disconnect grows stronger. For now, it may be the best to go alone against the Tall One. Raven, Butterfly, Changeling

...I don't know what to do anymore. I don't belong here anymore. It's getting colder. It's time to move on. No more mum's and no more lecherous flirts. This internet thing is too risky, too hard. And I'm thinking bonding is just the thing I shouldn't do anymore.

Lis. Tia. They were too good for these things. I'm the sort of scum that gets it. Alone is better.

"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain." We will remain.

Bared myself wholly heart and body unadorned
Stripped down solely
To the evil and the good
Felt no shame
Naked to the world
And all illusions shattered

Running all the time
Ain't going nowhere
It's a new page in the same book
It's a new game with the same rules
The lights go down
Fade to black on the set
And we ain't seen nothing yet

So don't be tempted by the shiny apple
Don't you eat of a bitter fruit
Hunger only for a taste of justice
Hunger only for a world of truth
'Cause all that you have is your soul

Mercurial Soul

Interim

"All Bette's stories have happy endings. That's because she knows where to stop. She's realized the real problem with stories — if you keep them going long enough, they always end in death."

That's our problem somewtimes isn't it? We just keep writing and writing. To us, it's not a story, but to someone out there, it is. To someone out there, we're nothing but the brainchildren of amateur writers with too many or two few ideas.

Thing is, it's not a story, and it's probably not going to have a happy ending. But this isn't for others, really. This blog was started as a way for me and my friends to keep track of the things that were happening... That is, once it was switched over from being an assignment from my therapist.

Funny how much things change in a year. Sometimes it takes the threat of death or worse for someone to start to live.

Radio Silence

We exist. We're not dead. Funny, that. It's been an interesting little time, playing the game that isn't a game.
This is not a game.
This is not a game.
This is not a game.
The mantra of an ARGer, now become real. We've all seen that. We've more than seen that. We've been helping where we can. Maybe we've been lying a bit too low. Watching, waiting, listening.

It's almost funny to some, I feel sure. Like a butterfly on a pin, struggling. Even if it manages to get free, it's not going to survive. That's what people think they see. Maybe it's better sometimes to let people keep those perceptions.

We hang on, we laugh. We find life and make the most of it. To live is an awfully big adventure, after all. We dance, play, fight, run, sing, and learn.

An uninterrupted sleep is rare and valuable commodity.

We cry. We have lost people, and we will probably continue to do so. Cutting ourselves off from others isn't going to prevent that. Oh, we've seen some of the things going on recently, and they're unpleasant as heck. Does that mean we sould lie down and bare our throats?

There are always so many paths that can be taken. sure, it's easiest to follow certain ones, but we must do what we can, I suppose.

Hopefully, we'll be posting a bit more, soon. Things have been hectic recently, working on things.

Dream a little dream

How many dreams does a person have in a night? Too many.

Stars going out like candles, an image shown in so many media. The splintering of bone.Why dream about something like that? When we're children, we have nightmares even then. Glowing green eyes in the depths of a cave. A whispered name.

I dreamed tonight that I was in a maze. Not a labyrinth, a maze. A multicursal stucture, rather than a unicursal structure. The walls were not stone. The were gray, gray, gray and brown, with writing on them. Some form of concrete or stucco? Beside the point.

Alchemical symbols. Antimony. Silver. Platinum. Magnesium. Gold. All beneath a layer of dust so thick that I could see my footprints in it. Ahead of me was evidence of someone passing before. Small of stature, bare feet. Bare feet in that mess... I've  stepped in worse, I guess.

As I ran a hand along the grime and rust-covered wall, watching the flowering of the rust along the surface, I began to notice lighter spots along the wall. They were rectangles, reaching from above my head to the floor. Like when you have a piece of furniture in a single place for a very long time and it leaves a mark when you move it.

It took a long moment as I looked at the marks, and I began to realize that they were doors. Or where there were doors. Places where the doors had vanished. What would happen if you were in a room and the door vanished? Would you try to go through the wall?

What if you couldn't go through the wall due to being trapped in an extradimensional pocket? Set fire to the room? Listen to the voices? Try to press on anyway? Curl up in a ball and give up? Rage against the sky that you no longer had access to and that would not listen, anyway? Skies are very bad listeners. They have no ears.

Pc ypn wngf ittlwf qxpy sff httn dwhh ui, ak ah httrw oqixs bw ttwozs tq evmccw spr rdrlmps.

There were true openings in the walls now. Tiny altars of perhaps-dead things that have been forgotten for many a year. A woman robed in cobweb, the wet, glittering black of her eyes shielded by skeletal fingers, a ring glinting on each. A small, stout man with the face of an reptile of some sort, eyes sparkling and following every movement, completely nude. A many-horned creature, vague in form, leathery and violent in its very appearance.  A young woman with the eyes of a cat, snakes and the tails of scorpions woven into her sooty hair, a shattered hand outstretched in supplication. A child with her hands over her eyes, wings of light broken and shattered. Offerings become dust themselves, scattered and strewn away.

Tell the king; the fair wrought house has fallen

No shelter has Apollo, nor sacred laurel leaves

The fountains are now silent; the voice is stilled.

It is finished.

 

Some less forgotten,  a woman of ironwood will, a misbegotten child, a singing cold wind, the faceless bachelor thief, and many more. Teir numbers grow. There are many ways to give something power, but why do people choose to? Do what ways they choose matter to the chosen? The dust was stirred more around some than around others, this part of the path heavily trodden and lit by the glow of screens unseen.

Other tiny staues are tucked in smaller nooks, most of them toppled over on their sides, a spread of acrid liquid spilling from their bases, discoloring the air and the mind with shades of dreams lost and unseen.

As I went further, the hundred alcoves became fewer. They were all empty, except for more graffiti, and the walls have elaborate water stains, dripping rust and orange colors down the concrete. One of the spaces had a small round opening, perhaps six inches in diameter, presumably the mouth of a pipe. It was also surrounded by a flower of rust stains, and some individual with a very strange sense of humor left a ragged black scrawl reading “The Chicken Goes Here” with an arrow pointing to it.

If only I’d thought to bring a chicken... and that was an odd place to wake up from, babbling and clinging.

Talk, Talk, Talk

So I have trust issues.


And I invited someone else to join the party.


Some of you may in fact be wondering why the hell I would actually do such a thing. Especially with trust issues. And all that jazz. Jared's poked me a couple of times about it himself. Why I decided to trust him when he puts Lissie in such a fit. One who endlessly comes onto the both of us (though it's harmless really, he's just a slut acting exactly like he's always acted), and who seems careless when it comes to considering other's points of views.


Okay, he's not really that bad. And there's a couple of legitimate reasons that I let him take the keys to the truck from time to time.


The first is simple: experience. He's got a whole bucket load of that. And we, as in Lissie and I, have like zilch. And we could use someone whose better at surviving and not being persuaded and all that shit.


The second? He's familiar with Shepherd. And though the man's been quiet, I don't think he's quite slipped out of our lives. Doesn't seem his style to let go, more his style to let us get comfy then come on full force when we're not expecting it. And I don't like not knowing what to expect.


I guess the last is that he's hot. I'm going to just be honest and blunt and let you all know how shallow I can be. He's totally banging. (Read my sarcasm and snarky bitch tone in that please. You're welcome.)


And that's that. I have no regrets. Except all of my regrets.

The Iron Rose

Insularity is something that's becoming far too easy to fall into for us these days. With Tia closing herself off more, to most people, and Kailin just being Kailin. Jared's pretty outgoing, but I think he's a bit guarded for his own reasons. Understandably. There are still a few people keeping us from this, and I'm glad of that.

I got another email the other day asking why we bother Running. Honestly, I'm the most to blame for that. Among other reasons, like not wanting to lie down and die. I have to consider how long we're in one location before people start to notice that things aren't quite... right. How long will it take before something chips through their self-absorption or whatever else is holding their attention and they start to pay attention to the weird little group staying it room-number whatever-the-heck? Start to notice the graffiti that got painted over the other day, the figures skulking in every shadow, the chalk-scratchings on the sidewalk?

Some people compare being Stalked to being like a transmittable disease. I don't necessarily consider it that way, but I have to wonder. If that's true, we've been traveling, off and on, for a good while now. What is our footprint of spread? How many people have been drawn into things that might not have, if we hadn't been in a certain place at a certain time? How many weights should be on my conscience, if only I knew of them?

Is it so surprising then, that I choose to generally not make extra money by selling paintings? Especially some of them... I've done in excess of a hundred paintings that have not been posted, and never will be posted, because they have been disposed of. Egocentric? Maybe, but there are some things I'd prefer not to take chances on. Things people weren't meant to see. So, as I've said, I get rid of them. For my own mental well-being.

What little there is left of it, anyway.

We're still making do with things. Jared's still in the doghouse a bit. Is that selfish of me? Maybe a little. I've forgiven him, but it's been almost six years since I saw him last. Since we saw him last. We've all changed in that time. Maybe we don't have the time to dance around things, but getting to know eachother again is proving interesting. He actually got Tia to smile the other day.

That's a rare sight, these days. She rarely smiles at most people recently, at least in any real way. Tia's always had anger issues, even when we were teenagers. That's part of why there was such a negative reaction from us when someone told her in the comments to someone telling her to let that become a weapon.

To let something like anger control you is just like anything else that you allow to cloud judgement. Lashing out like a wounded, trapped animal is not acceptable, no matter how likely a reaction it is at times these days. We are not animals. And to allow our situation to attempt to form us into anything of the sort... I don't know. I wish it were so simple.

It's hard to see the light try to fade from people as you struggle to stoke that fire. Not just our little group, but those beyond it. To not merely survive, but to live.

Sleep is for the weak and tired

I never knew where he went or how his afternoons were spent.
He said he had to slay a dragon, kill a giant, fix a wagon.
Wage a war, feed the world, and stamp out sin.
In the daytime he was never in.

Thank you for you input, Jared. Utterly.

Honestly, I almost find it a little amusing how each of us deals with our not wanting to sleep much. I nap. Little cat-naps every so often. Too long and you start to dream too much. Tia, she just keeps going until she utterly crashes. Usually a few days before having to sleep for most of a day, too exhausted to do anything else. Kailin? I actually haven't seen zer sleep much in general. At least not soundly. Jared... I haven't picked up on his patterns yet. Erratic behavior.

Not exactly healthy. We try to get enough rest, though. Enough so that if something happens, we can at least make an attempt at dealing with it.

It's been weird, getting used to having Jared around again. The last time I saw him was on that day in January, six years ago. When he made me promise to look after Marie. By that point, I already thought of her like the little sister I'd never have. And yes, maybe it's cruel of me to blame him for that. Wrong to blame him for being caught up in all of this. For getting me caught up in this.

It's not fair to him.

I know that. He was seventeen at the time. Most people don't exactly have the very best decision-making skills as a teenager. Especially Jared.

We met through Doctor Chavez. Well, at his office. And as I've said, we made friends. Amusingly, yes, there almost was something between us, but well. I was fourteen at the time when we first met. It wasn't long after certain incidents... We would have been bad for each other, and we knew it. So we decided to be friends.

Honestly, we didn't see much of each other in school. Jared... He was the class clown, to fall back on high school archetypes. I was me. Until Tia moved into town, he was one of the few friends I had at school, even if he was more the popular type. Unlike Tia, however, his tactics for helping me usually involved distracting whoever was messing with me at the time. Unless things got too bad.

Unfortunately, we didn't have too many classes together.

The thing that bothers me the most is that his parents  told us that he committed suicide a few days after I spoke with him that day in January. That he'd shot himself. The funeral was closed-casket. But obviously... Obviously he's still alive and kicking.

Why would they cover that up? Heck, how would they cover that up?

I feel sure he knows at least a bit, but I'm not sure if we'll ever know all the details, with his parents and Marie now dead. my fault

As a closing note, with a little help, we've found someone for Tia to see. The kid's got a few connections, apparently. I'm painting still. Also, that girl's back. As are other... oddness. Guess things are getting back to "normal".

Another note

Hey, babes.


It's been pretty damn interesting, talking to the girls again for the first time in ever. Lis snuck a kick to my shin once Tia let her free the other night.  Now, was that really fucking called for, sweetheart?


Probably.


I have to say, I was right about one thing. Lis cares too damn much, sometimes. Not gonna say that's always a bad thing, but when you're crying over what some asshole you've never met or talked to's bitch-fit of a blog post, it gets a little silly. Makes me want to wring his neck, which is idiotic in its own right.

Yeah, I called you silly, babe. Got an issue with it? Let's go, then. Right, anyway.  Gotta be like a duck. Let the shit slide off your back. Duck in a rainstorm. Remember that, sweetie. Because it's a big-ass storm and we're just little things walking against the wind.

Tia... Tia's numb and angry.  Understandably. But we've been talking a bit. "Oh? You hit things? I hit things. Okay, let's be bros again." Heavy paraphrasing there. Of course it wasn't that simple. She's in a freaking territorial mood, even though she's the one who let me in the hotel room in the first place. Makes a lot of sense, babe.


Kailin, well now. First of all, no matter what zie says, I'm not wanting to tap that, no matter how nice you can look. Just clearing that up from the post zie did at the hospital. Not my type, anyway. You're a little too young for me, kid. Unless, well...


Someone asked me what I've been up to, in that lat post's comments section. That ever-so-lovely-and-endearing Miss Amy.  Now note, darling that I did not explicitly make any "demands". That would just be unpersonable of me. I was just meeting up with a few old school chums who are in a rough spot and needed some help. Yeah?

Yeah. 


As to what I've been doing, I guess the easiest thing would be to say traveling. Since "glorified hobo" doesn't fit your needs. I'm pretty good at fitting people's needs, though. When I have to. 


Honestly, running is less the way to describe what I've done. What people are really doing, when it's from something that can find you with whatever passes for a thought for it. It's better that waiting around with your thumb up your ass once you realize there's more out there, though.  Well, I suppose people do run from the servitors thralls, pawns, proxies, whatever they call themselves at any given time.


I'm not sure what would have happened If what happened to me if I had stayed home after I heard them talking that time. After seeing the void and it seeing me. If what happened with Marie is any clue, maybe I wasn't quite a target. At least not by mister squid-orgy in a three piece suit. Or maybe I was. Maybe it's cat and mouse and I was just a bargaining chip that went missing.


Bargaining is bullshit.


But that's beside the point. What matters is the here and now, right? Exactly.  Happy May Day, kids.


Peace out, Girl Scouts.

Good evening, sweethearts

Hey there, kids and kidettes. 


Right, you don't know me, do you? Well, it doesn't really matter, I guess. You know the chicas on this blog, so that counts for something. Those anonymous emails Lis was getting were coming from somewhere, though.


...


Okay, I was rudely interrupted there. Seriously, who's been teaching the shrimp to ... Right. Tia.  Fuckin' hot. Self-defense training, getting all sweaty and close together. Yum.


I mean, there's nothing like the thrill of an "ex" tackling you on a bed and shoving a gun up under your chin, amirite? Phoowee... Never expected little Miss Lissie to get a temper. Ain't that Tia's job or something? I mean, not that it's not nice to see, her acting all fiery. 


Tia had to drag her off of me. Now, I know it's kind of hard to resist sometimes, but that's no way to treat an old friend, is it? Especially one who's been sticking his neck out to drop some ideas in these pretty ladies' path.  Yeah, that was me. Whoop-de-shit. 


Right. A name. Names are kind of important, I guess. Jared's the name, and (insert cliche here) is the game. I'm just a drifter. A glorified hobo and someone who knows these chicas a bit. Hi. 


Lis is just a-fucking-fussing now. Quietly. I swear, I don't think the woman ever raises her voice. Even when she's saying she'll never forgive someone and so on. She'll forgive me. She always does. Tia's dealing with her right now, and I'm getting the stare-down from the kid. Nice to see him... her... Um. Yeah, anyway. Again.

Glad they managed to use the diversion to get out of the hospital when they did, anyway.  Yeah, hi... I'm the one that talked to the kidlet in the caf. Oooh~ Shocking, I know. Yeah, shit's been going down for a while.

Hi there, Sheppy, you sheep-fucking darling, did you miss me? I know you did, baby.

Peace out, Girl Scouts. 

Continuation

And I demand
 You put my heart back in my hand
 And wipe it clean
 From the mess you made of me
 And I require
 You make me free from this desire
 And when you leave, I'd better be the innocent
I used to be

The world is full of poets
We don't need anymore
 The world is full of singers
 We don't need anymore
 The world is full of lovers
 We don't need anymore

Something I've been working on.

I Don't Think You All Quite Understood Me

I said these women are optimistic and saccharine. I meant... exactly that. They were expecting things to go wrong, I don't think they were expecting things to go this wrong. Or if they had accounted for this margin of error... then they were expecting to get out of it. To get lucky.

We don't get lucky in this little world of ours.

We just don't. We get the odds stacked against us and have to make due with that. We have to deal with tumbling issues and dying friends and aching deep sadnesses as we watch them fade into their end. As we contemplate if we caused this, if it's all our fault. (What am I saying? It's always my fault.)

Tia's still not talking. She's sad and scared and a little broken. I, personally, think we need to stop to visit a spirit healer on our way out and while Lis is up for anything and everything, Tia's a skeptic. It's also too fresh to heal. She wants to feel the ache more. But if anything, I know that we need to heal quickly or shit will never get done.

Experience is a bitch. Then you die?

Is that even a remotely appropriate statement?

I think I'm just going to go... I've got more to say... but not right now. Not at all right now.

All That's Left is Rage

Realizing I shouldn't be out in public.
I'm not fit for it.
I don't socialize well right now.
I'm not people friendly. I'm too busy yelling at the idiots.
I shouldn't be driving either.
Everything's a blur and I'm just so...
So...
So... pissed off.
The fucker took my baby girl.
The fucker took her.

Breaking

Can't deal with this right now. My brain is fracturing. Crumbling in places. Shore up the walls and keep moving. Have to stay strong for Tia and Kailin... Ha. Strong. Right. Bullshit. I've never been the strong one. I've just been the one who's good at lying to herself.

Too much input, not enough output. Not enough output. Not enough output.

Day by day I'm here behind you
First I seek you, then I find you
Deep into the earth I grind you

Time stands still here, the air is stagnant, and things are twisting. Tia's mobile, at least. I don't care, as soon as we get out of this, we're getting her discharged.People say that hope is a fruitless emotion. They insinuate that we should simply roll over, expose our throats and stomachs and wait for the moment to come, and hope it's quick. That or allow ourselvesto be twisted and molded, made playthings of what is supposedly fate. Some have no options, but somewhere along the line, there were Choices.

There's a vulture on my shoulder
And he's telling me to give in
Always hissing right in my ear
Like it's coming from my own head
It's got me mixed up
Trying not to give up
Tell me there's a way to get out of here
Fixed at zero

There's someone in here other than us.... I'm not sure who, but I've seen them. All the more reason to find a way out. It's odd, walking along the halls and looking for weak spots.

Sometimes we come across tabelaux featuring people we've met so far. Friends. Loves. Names. Faces. Twisted and broken in ways I refuse to describe. I respect them too much to do so. Even if these are just shadows. That fact might even make it worse.

I could have done more. Somehow. Useless, pointless, worthless, ineffectual little bitch. We will lose everything and gain nothing. This is but one branch on the tree.

No.

... Tia's not going to be happy when she sees me saying things like that about myself. I just... It would be so easy to give in to the part of myself that says those things. To quit caring. To quit hurting. To quit loving. To be cold. To be empty. It sounds so tempting. Perhaps that's better than some of the other options.

I told someone once that I didn't want to take the easy path, though. He told me he was "something like proud" of me for that. Heh. I've spoken with others about such thoughts. Heaven forbid I go back on such a thing now.

The dominoes topple one by one. So few are left standing. Who will choose to help keep them standing?  I wish. I wish I could do more. People hurting, preying on themselves and others. One side or another, it doesn't matter. Things will spiral away from the best-laid plans of all. The high and mighty, who believe themselves above such things, will topple just as the smallest of us has. No matter if they serve or do not.  Humbleness is a virtue that would be well-recieved on the part of all.

Too bad the vast majority seem to prefer pride and vainglory.

I'm no saint. I'm no leader. I'm just an artist and a recluse. I will do what I can, though. I have people who rely on me. That's something. Right now, that's everything. A beacon, a path, a shining blade to cut through the shadows. I wish it were so simple.

Found it.

Witty comment

Still not sure of the time or the day. Funny, that. It's like, when I try to check on the laptop or my phone, my eyes just skid away from any numbers.

I know my blood runs hot,
And I've seen my blood is thick
I'm told my blood's not sweet,
And I cry, "my soul is sick"

Funny girl... We're on the move. It's eerie, the feeling of emptiness where there should be people. There are symbols scratched along the walls occasionally in this not-hospital. A certain symbol is absent, thankfully. Almost a week in the hospital or more. Yeah, more than a week we were there. This isn't the same place, though.

When I went to check the hall where the squeaking was, I saw, of all things, Marie... Who is dead. At least, it looked like her. I know it wasn't, though. I don't know how, but I know it was just a figment of this place... Of course, the dissipating into laughing mist might have helped that assumption.

The hospital grows more convoluted as we move, looking for a way out. Labyrinthine. Who is the Minotaur this time, and will we even see trace? Have to keep moving. The thing about true labyrinths is that they are not mazes. There is a path out.

Wheelchairs are evil.

Seriously, have you ever noticed how often wheelchairs show up when something not quite "right" is about to happen? Wheelchairs are probably secretly planning the demise of us all. I won't be surprised if this is true, even if they are inanimate objects.

I should clarify a little, I guess. Maybe they fit some symbolic niche within the collective unconscious human mind. Helplessness? Maybe, though I know at least some people confined to wheelchairs would protest that. Probably pretty vehemently.

Anyway, Tia woke up.  Almost amusingly, that's when things went to hell. There was a shift to the air as the colors started to fade. What day was it? What day is it? The last time I checked the calendar, it was the ninth or tenth, I think. The days have been running together here, even with everything.

Right, back on topic. It's always disturbing to me when the colors go. I don't think most people quite get what I mean by that, not really. Imagine that you spend your life at least partially in a vivid swirl of things, shifting in the back of your mind, in the back of your eyes. No, that's not right. I... Have a hard time describing it with just words. These times, though... Everything is just gray. Maybe not literally, but that's how it seems to me. I think it's hard for people to grasp how much that shakes me.

Things are thrown into such stark relief. The scratches on the baseboard. Patterns incomprehensible. Hello there, writing on the wall. No, I don't want to impart your words of wisdom to the dear readers, what there are of them. I will anyway.

It may seem a strange principle to enunciate as the very first requirement in a hospital that it should do the sick no harm.

Someone has a sick sense of humor. No pun intended.

But Tia's awake. That counts for something, right? I sound so... hollow. For once, in this, we're together. Kailin's still at the bedside, something having snapped zer out of a doze in the chair. Pity, really, zie hasn't been sleeping much at all. Those dark eyes are locked on the door, though. Tia's awake, but god, she looks so pale.

There's a squeaking sound from the hall, and that's what triggered the thoughts on wheelchairs. The hospital didn't have any squeaky-rusty ones that I know of, though. But then, that assumes that this is anything normal. Even the squeaking is gray.

I don't want to go look. But you know me... I ran toward the screams, not away. Sometimes you have to.

We Soldier On... Or Something

Maybe I was trying to be nice about your attitude and demeanor, Kailin.

They took Tia away yesterday. The doctors wouldn't tell us what exactly was wrong, but well... You saw what Kailin overheard. I was almost tempted to poke zer to nick Tia's chart. If nothing else, due to my job, I'm good at deciphering nurse's notes and stuff from doctors.

We couldn't chance getting kicked out, though. Of course. So we just sat yesterday, and talked some. Kailin's definiely interesting to talk to sometimes. But then again, I commend anyone that can keep up with my nervous rambling.

Essentially, due to the circumstances, they probably had to either induce labor or abort... It wouldn't even be counted as a miscarriage at this point. It'd just be count as a lost pregnancy. I just... This is wrong.

I hate being unable to do anything. They brought back Tia last night... She's so pale, and she hasn't woken up yet. She seems more stable, though. Less shuddery and at least there's a few positive things there... She's just... asleep now. I talked one of the nurses into letting us stay in Tia's room again with her. If nothing else, it would be good to have someone in here in case she wakes up. 

I feel sure she's going to be disoriented when she wakes. Because she's going to wake up.

...One of the nurses just said the doctor wants to speak with me when he comes in today. I'm not sure if this is a good or bad thing. This is going to be hell on our funds, but at least we have stuff saved up still.  It's worth it, anyway. I just wish... I wish things weren't this way. But then, don't we all?

I've seen a few things around here that have put me on edge, but for now, my focus is Tia and Kailin and maintaining things as best I can.  Everything seems to be trying to crumble, though. As always. And I've been making myself sick again. We'll manage, though. I don't know what else to say other than that right now.

Sleepless in the Waiting Room

I'm not sleeping. Chilled out is not the phrase that I would use for me, though Lis seems to think it appropriate (that's cute).

I did meet a guy in the caf last night. I think he had the hots for me. Totally drooling the whole time. Totally worthless. A waste of my time.

Sarcasm. I have it.

The doctor's are whispering things. They think no one can hear. They think we're asleep. They want to save Tia. Not the baby. It's too early on to save the baby. There's really no hope for it. Webbed toes and fingers and incomplete organs.

And it's pretty much not going to make it. Too complex. Black blood everywhere. It's started to die in the womb. And it could kill Tia.

I've said too much.

Tia doesn't know.

She's still K.O.

Lucky me. First to know, and no way to fix the situation.

Hospital smell

Yeah, I've been painting still. It helps me stay calm. Kailin's chilled out a little. We can't leave right now, and it's been enough trouble as it is to convince the staff that they shouldn't just kick me and Kailin out, because we're "not family".

...It's incredibly awkward to play the "I'm her girlfriend" card sometimes, even if it's true. Especially when you're not sure how people will react.

Tia's still in and out. There's very little coherency to her right now, and the doctors... There's something they're not saying at the moment. Still. I hate when people hide things.

I've honestly never been so... unnerved by a hospital, though. Maybe it's because of recent events. Maybe it's because I feel like I'm constantly being watched when I'm in the halls. Maybe it's because of that little girl I saw in the ER waiting room the other night with the dead, calculating eyes and the miswrought smile as her "father" fawned over her. Maybe it's the scratchings I see along the baseboards from the corner of my eye that aren't there when I look straight on.

Or maybe that's just the lack of sleep talking and those were all waking-dreams. Kailin went to talk to... someone in the cafeteria last night. I know that much. Zie's not telling who it was at the moment,but I have a suspiscion.

...I'm going to try to get a nap. I have to, or I'll be even more useless than usual.

Just Under the Weather...

Right. Just a little less then pretty. Of course. Everything's recoverable. We can make it through this shit. Of course we can. We always do. Nothing's really wrong so long as we don't acknowledge that anything's really wrong.

...The mums' are the worst understaters of the goddamn century. Everyone should know that. If you were unaware, please make yourself aware now.

I knew we were too quiet. I knew that It was closing in. That thing. That thing that brings down both the flood and the flame. It's been watching too long. Too long. And they were being too happy, thinking about the baby and names for Her. Because now we know. We know it's a she.

Cecelia. That's the name I'm voting for.

...I'm trying to be optimistic. I'm trying to let the mums' positive attitude rub off on me. I'm trying to learn new tricks. I'm not even close to old yet.

But it's not working.

We have to get out of this hospital. Tia's stuck. The doctors won't let her leave. There are complications. We're stuck hoping they'll work themselves out. And Tia's having fits.

She sees It. I see It. Lis feels It. It's everywhere. We have to go. Go before It takes something precious. I need a friend. But I haven't got a friend in the world I could call on.

Uhm... Right.

Tia's not doing so well, and it's late enough that we haven't been able to find a clinic open nearby. We're going to the ER at the nearest hospital to get some things checked on. Everything should be fine. This is going to be hell on our funds, but it's worth it to try and keep everyone healthy. Right? Right. We'll manage. Definitely.

... Stupid birthday. Stupid shadows. Go away. Go away. Go away.




This is my fault.
I... We'll be fine.

A Little Under the Weather

Been less than stunning lately. Kind of catching up with me.


Don't worry, I'm sure everything's just fine. All in working order. Just kind of feeling shitty.


Birthday plans will have to be postponed.


Sorry Lissie Love.

HBD

happy birthday to me... Happy Birthday to me. Heh. Something like that. Can't really bring myself to look at it that way right now. I feel sure we'll do something later today.

Silence on the Western front

Not really.

People keep dying, kids keep getting stolen, life goes on, yeah? No. I've lost track of how things crumble. How my dreams fold and unfold, showing the lines and pathways and things I can't put to words. There's always more than one path to take, if you're able to take the steps and your eyes aren't blind to them.

He was in the hotel this evening. The tall bastard. Just standing there. I was the only one awake for once (Yes, we have really weird sleep-schedules), and suddenly he was just there. Watching again, but as I watched him in return, he moved over to Tia's side of the bed, so silently, and shifted as though focusing on her. There was a long pause before a tendril of black coiled out and hovered over her. I couldn't make a sound. I tried. God, I tried. Everything was so gray and washed out.

It just hovered there, over her stomach for a long moment before I was able to move, shifting my position to place myself between Him and her. There was a tilt to His head, and a shift to his stance as though looking toward the other bed, where Kailin was.

The tendril moved at the same time, seeming to snag on my ponytail for a moment before Tia stirred. And then He was gone, and there was some confusion as to my position. Shielding her.

...Did He honestly just pull my hair before leaving? I... This was a weird day. We'll be moving. Soon. For the sake of all four of us.

Doobley-doo

Sorry about the lack of posting lately, guys. We're still kicking around. It's been an odd month so far, though.

...I say that like it's not been an odd while at this point. Anyway, we've been working on the baby issue still. I know there's a high probability of something going wrong, but in the end, it's Tia's choice, as has already been said. Emphatically. Also, hormones are interesting, I'll give the human body that. Things are going... pretty reasonably in certain areas. I've been getting lots of hugs recently, for various reasons.

Kailin's still with us. Zie's not the most willing to talk about zer past, and honestly, I don't blame the kid. So we're focusing on the now and on the future, I guess. I can live with that.  It's not my place to pry. Kailin will talk when zie feels like it.

Honestly, I'm just very... tired, recently. He's still around, as usual. Lurking. lurklurklurk. Sorry, anyway. Lurk is a funny word.

It's hard sometimes, to be this person who always forgives and turns the other cheek. Who is forever giving people new chances. It's not always easy being the person willing to welcome someone back with open arms time and time again.  Just for them to hurt you and others. It would be so easy to be angry and react violently.

There are a few people who inspire such a reaction from me, but they are very rare and far-between.

The easy road isn't always the best road, though. Bitter, angry, vengeful, petty... Those are all easy. and if I give into them, then it's a victory. Not for me, certainly. But letting myself be changed in a negative light by the things around me.... Would stink.

I don't know.

I don't know anymore. It's just... God, I feel hollow right now. Like my insides have been nearly scraped clean and laid bare for all to see again and again.

I find it funny, when I get told by people "Oh, you guys do so good." Bah. Bah. We're hanging on by the skin of our teeth, most of the time.

Also, someone cut the gas line to the truck today. Hurray. Think it was the chick who's been following us. Still haven't been able to get a good enough view of her to be able to identifty her well. Fun.

We'll manage. We always do.

Over-quiet

Someone's following us again, I think. Not just Him. Nothing else too notable at the moment. More of the same. Not really in a writing mood at the moment.

Goodbyes

Death comes so often for those who don't even come close to deserving it.

Some people say they want to just forget things. They want to just forget anything bad has ever happened. Even if I could, I wouldn't. No matter how much it hurts, no matter what happens to me personally, I want to always remember the people I've met during this time of my life. No matter how terrible the other memories I'm stuck with are, I want to remember. They deserve that much. They deserve so much more, but I'm just me. As ineffectual and unfortunate as ever.

"Someone" left the scarf I gave August on the doorstep of our hotel room this morning. The golden yellow of the yarn was dark and stained with his blood... It's soaking in the sink right now.

For once I almost can't say "If I'd only done this one thing, something differently..." Doesn't stop the guilt, though. Irrational and stupid, I know. Seems to be a usual thing for me, being irrational and stupid.

I'm okay. I'm always okay. Heh.

Your soul glowed, August. See you later, kid. I hate goodbyes.

More painting.

"Silence in the City"

Overthinking everything

"The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance."

It's funny, sometimes, that feeling on the edge of consciousness, when your mind is open and you're reflecting on things. You know you're unworthy. Unworthy of love, unworthy of attention, unworthy of the thing which you attempt to fool yourself with by calling it freedom. You are no more than a speck if dust in the wind in the grand scheme of things.
People call me an optimist. I'm not. I just choose. I just choose to see the fragments of light and color. Everything is faceted and everything has its reflections. Things change. I've changed, I guess. I'm still scared. I don't think I'll ever be not-scared.

Maybe I'm fooling myself by feeling I have a choice, but honestly, I've nearly lost myself enough times by now to know there's at least a tipping point. Everything has a tipping point.

I'm not alone now... That helps. When you're alone, your mind has nowhere to go but out, spreading and spreading, seeing the worst and the best. Sure, He's still there, there are still murmurs and shadows and things and people-who-think-they-aren't-lost, but somehow, even if numbers aren't safe in some ways, it's better than that racing, rambling, lost, scattered feeling. I'm not alone, I am wanted, I am loved, quit your humming and go away. I want spring to come now, please. You are not Mine, and I am not Yours.

It's something to focus on other than the light and flickers of color and sensation. People who sense things without synesthesia are actually a grounding influence on me sometimes. I mean, it's interesting for art, but it would be so easy to drift away sometimes in a haze of light.

Sorry... Sorry, I'm fine, I just needed to ramble a bit. Yay, monologuing. I think a lot of people know that feeling, these days. Anyway, I'm okay, Tia's fine... And Kailin's being Kailin.

Emails, emails, emails. I've been getting some odd ones recently. Temporary email accounts? Really? Well, for one of the people, the one who won't tell me who he is. I've got some suspicions, though. The others are from our dear, dear Shep. Honestly, I don't think I've ever met a more condescending jerk. And yes, I do still blame him for the stuff with Marie and Blake. Not as much as I blame myself, of course. But I mean... I've had time to think about things. What I could've done differently.

I know there's things about the Sinclairs that I'd been unaware of while living in Alabama. I mean, considering some of the junk that's happened surrounding that family. Nicking Marie's journal has shown me that much. There aren't too many things notable enough to be posted, but there are definite hints of things not having been completely on the level. I might start working on transcribing parts of it again, though, when I'm not busy with painting, driving, or working. There's a few interesting bits, though the vast majority of it is just normal, teenagery stuff. It's just too bad that there's nobody else from them that I could ask, I suppose.

Not now, though. Now I need to Focus on something else. Something less... something.

Commentary

Lissie's in a mood. Misplaced blame is not a thing she gets on with, nosiree. It's funny when Lis is the one who wants to smack some sense into people.


Another thing: sometimes fellow bloggers use words and I have to wonder if they really know what that word means. Like, for instance, "rules." Rule are things that always apply. Things that are going to be true when faced with the test of time and will always be true. Save for a few choice exceptions. Rules are also based in fact. Scientific observation made by multiple unbiased parties willing to change their perspective should science deign it appropriate, not just personal observation. These are almost as high as laws, which have no exceptions whatsoever.


Anyway.


The point is, I guess, everyone makes their own path and it's not guaranteed to lead them anywhere specific. The human life is not a thing that can be put so narrowly along expectation row. In sum, I will not let my life be led by silliness you all think is fact.


I won't let my child be led along on her path of life by stupidity or the expectations you've all built of us.


You're letting the fear you've all built up as a result of this thing rule you from a to z and you've all forgotten how to live. How to love. How to be human. Well, not all of you, I'm sorry if I implied things that would make you uncomfortable in advance.


Try not to forget how to be human. I know it's hard sometimes, especially when you're coping with fear so shoddily that you've got snot and spit and all sorts of other nastiness seeping from you. But you have to try anyway. Because otherwise you're going to lose yourself in the fight, and then you'll lose sight of your motive, and why are you even fighting if you don't know what you're fighting for anyway?


And now I'm going to go back to driving and letting Kailin and Lis rule the blog.


Also, morning sickness seriously sucks.

Too quiet, well not really

Haven't posted in a little bit, mostly because we're still getting used to each other. It's sort of odd having a third person around again. Things are pretty much the same in a lot of ways, though. Lack of sleep, stress, talking about the most random things late into the night as a distraction, working on the computers for hours (at least on my and Tia's parts). I've been painting a bit again. Most of them aren't all that good. It's mostly an outlet.

Painting's something I started back in high school. Initially as a therapy sort of thing. Doctor Chavez suggested it, and I ended up really loving it as something to do and to keep myself occupied. Painting is something that's just easy to Focus on. So I keep painting and turning out things. Is is weird that I really miss Doctor Chavez still? I mean, I don't know... The guy's been my therapist off and on since I was fourteen, so I guess it makes a little sense that I'd gotten attached.

Anyway, we've been doing a bit of moving about over the last week. Kailin's actually healing up a a reasonable rate, which I'm glad of. Those burns were some of the worst I've seen in a while. There are other, older scars, but that's zer story to tell, not mine.

Also, is it weird to be thinking up baby names for a kid that's not even mine? Just kind of wondering.

And yeah, we're not getting complacent. Every time things look good is when you should be on watch the most. I think we've learned that by now.

Yeah, anyway

Dreamer, hm? Dreamer, Heroine, Bloodstained Handmaiden, Lis. I'm just Lis. I'm nobody important, except to a few people. It doesn't help that one of those idiotic nicknames came from our ever-so-dear-Shepherd and one from Marie. I'm nobody. I am beneath notice. I am insignificant. I keep saying it, but people try to deny it and see something else.

Kailin calls me an optimist, and maybe, in comparison to zer, I  am. But then, a lot of people are, in comparison to Kailin. The kid's been through a lot. That's not my story to tell, though.

Dreams, right... Yeah, I dream a lot. People, places, things unfamiliar, and things better left unseen. I paint. People, places and things better left unseen. I dispose of many of the paintings. Most of them are of no worth anyway, and aren't exactly for mass consumption. I just sometimes have to get things out of my head and onto paper, you know? Some people do that with writing. I guess I do it with paintings? Well, paintings and my random rambles. But then, nobody really cares about an artist until they're dead or insane, anyway.

Most of it's stuff that doesn't make any sense. It's funny. It's like I dream in abstracts sometimes. Life is mutable. Every choice, every moment changes something. It's pointless to ever think you can know every angle, even when you feel like you do. There are shadows from every side, anyway. People focus so much on the evil that they know, but mabe there's more there.

And now I sound as silly and ominous as Kailin. Heh... Anyway, I'm likely to keep having weird dreams. I've had them for years, before any of this happened. They've just gotten more prominent and bothersome recently. By the way, I'm getting a new tattoo, I think. If I'm going to look odd, might as well really go for it. And I may not post another painting on my next post... I don't know, it all depends on what falls out of my head between now and the next time I decide to write.

A Bad Case of the Restless

The mums are... sorta really optimistic. I'm just going to let you all know right here: this is Me. I am not an optimist. And no, I'm not a realist either. I'm one helluva down-in-the-dumps pessimist. I think shit's going to fall to shit even when it's all going alright, because usually... that's right when it all falls to hell in the worst way.

But the mums aren't of that blood. They think better of the world and people and still have some tiny faith in circumstance. I guess maybe it's because they have each other. It's all saccharine like that.

M'gonna get diabetes or some shit travelling with these women. Not. Even. Kidding.

But unfortunately being a pessimist also means that I see the things hat my optimistic friends won't see sometimes. Like I know they pick up on shit that I miss entirely.

But there's something not comfortable and slimy and disgusting closing in. It's familiar. I know it. It stinks. No matter how fast we move. It follows. It closes in. The mums wouldn't like me talking or typing or whatevering like this. It's not a good attitude to keep.

But the paint-splattered mum's been Dreaming. She hasn't posted about it yet, she thinks you all will think she's nutters or mad or out of her head or a thousand and one things I have been called in every family unit I have ever had.

But the Old Chief (may he rest well) would call Lis for what she is: Dreamer. And that's a scary and big and terrible responsibility and fate. And Them That Dream are usually also Them That Have Big Fates. Not usually the sort that can hide well in the background.

Well they can try. Paint-splattered Mum does her best. It's better than a lot could manage. But maybe the Thing That Stalks likes her and hers so much because of the Dreamings. Or maybe it will be the Thing That Stalks that will force her to meet her fate. Fate is a big word for only four letters. Y'know?

And here I am, all of sixteen and barely educated trying to explain to you all what Fate means. What it meant to Old Chief and all the things he tried to teach me before... well anyway.

Anyway.

The point is, don't ignore the Dreamers or their Dreamings. Because I know damned well the Things That Never Sleep won't be ignoring them. They'll be as familiar as they like with the Dreamers. And their People.

Grumpy Mum and I are here to stay though. It's been a while since anyone made me feel like I belong. And I think Grumpy Mum can relate to that feeling right there.

And now I'm getting Looks for being all emotional and typing over here. They suspect the revealing nature of my post. I'm hitting submit now.

Just a Note

Not that it really is terrifically significant to me right now, considering I'm not there right now, but the 9th Circuit Court ruled that Proposition 8 is unconstitutional. Woohoo! In a lot of ways though it is really significant to me. Because California is where I spent a lot of my most recent years, and a lot of the friends I made there are going to have a shot at equality. And that's important. I want to see my all my friends walk down the aisle in brightly colored converse.


I really hope the appeal for that ruling falls to shit though. We don't need all that drama bull again. It's just annoying.


If you don't know what Proposition 8 was, use your own google-foo. I am, at present, too lazy to actually give a proper explanation or link.


I dunno. I guess that was all I had to say. Maybe I'll drive back and get impulsively hitched to Lissie in 28 days? It's a possibility. We'll keep you posted for that one! (Also watch the comments for inevitable Lissie-flails on that subject.)

To Clarify

They've given me this laptop for free! And it's, like, freaking retarded powerful. At least that's what the internet says. But like, they just gave it up. I'm going to guess that has something to do with the source of said laptop (I've been reading the backlogs, the mums have been through some hell I see), but even so!

I've been reading through the backlogs. And the mums have been through their hell. I hardly see reason for them to trust me, a stranger, but they took me in.

AND THE GRUMPY MUM EVEN SAYS I'M GROWING ON HER.

Madness. Serious. Madness. But I guess that's what happens when you give a pregnant woman just what she's craving when she's craving it. And try it too. Pickles and peanut butter. Well, it was odd, but not that bad I guess? It could have been worse.

Other thing of mention: the spoiling doesn't stop at the laptop. They took me shopping. For clothes. They offered for make-up, but Awonawilona knows I've enough of that from years of practice with my five-finger discount. My make-up bag never leaves me.

I guess they'd like me to stop that if I'm traveling with them, the five-finger discount part, not the make-up part, so I guess I can do the mums that much at least. I mean, they're providing for me, out of their own pockets. Generosity has never been really in my vocabulary before. And if it weren't for spell-check I wouldn't know how to spell it. That's for sure.

But yeah.

These women are weird. But I think they might be growing on me too.

Just Something I've been Fiddling With

Each breath breathed means we're alive
And life means that we can find
The reasons to keep on getting by
And if reasons we can't find
We'll make up some to get by
'Til breath by breath we'll leave this behind

What the Hell are these Women Even On?!

First and foremost: these bitches be crazy.

No seriously. They run up and fetch a kid from the arms of the Slender Fuck and straight up drag that kid off. And yeah, that part hurt a bit. But they were still stubborn enough to do it.

So the tall woman mumbles about all the strays and generosity and the never worrying about the self, but she totally bends under the little one's words. It's kinda quaint. I never got the opportunity to really see people being all 'cute'. It wasn't exactly an option. Whatever. I'm not bemoaning my lack of social exposure.

I hear she's called Tia, and the other Lissie. I'm renaming them.

Respectfully, "Grumpy Mum" and "Paint-Splattered Mum." I think these are more appropriate callings. And besides, despite me only running with 'em a few days now, they treat me real nice.

Haven't been treated this nice since I was in school - an' hell was that a while ago. Actually, since I was with the tribe, and that was even longer ago. So I guess that's why I think the mums are crazy. Because they are. For treating a stranger-orphan-homeless kid so nice. I suppose in my backhanded way I wanna thank them for at least temporarily dragging me with them, so I'm making myself useful and cleaning up after them in their truck and stuff. I don't have shit else to do anyway.

And the grumpy mum needs a little extra support - despite what she says or claims or whatever.

Second, I guess I should introduce myself. They talked about me. Or the paint-splattered mum did. And she alluded to some things. About some tough topics. But I really don't know if I should go into all that yet.

Until further notice I guess I should give you a name.

Kailin. Not Kai. Not Lin. Not Kail. Not anything else. Kailin Lusio. And I am me. Does anything else really matter?

If you're going through hell, just keep moving

 We've got a kid sleeping in out hotel bathtub. Well, not a kid, a teenager. Okay, let me backtrack a little bit.

We ended up heading southeast a bit, I think? Okay, I'm honestly so bad with directions. But that's beside the point. We were out shopping today, getting some groceries, essentials, mostly. Eating fast food can only go so far, especially with my making myself sick with stress half the time and Tia well, needing actual food. So we got food.

All nice and you know, not that strange. We were actually having a bit of fun, chatting, all that nice stuff. Things have been... nice between Tia and I recently. Yeah, nice. Hee. Umn, no creepy notes have been showing up, no anything. I've been reading through Marie's notes again, but that's stuff for another time. Anyway.

We were driving back to the hotel, and suddenly about halfway there, there's this... grayness. I mean, I feel sure the colors weren't actually bleeding away and fleeing from that... wrongness. From what I can tell, Tia didn't really see it that way. It's weird, how these things happen, it's like this warping of the fabric of things, the fleeing of normalcy. But yeah, that's when we heard it.

We followed the sounds, and there's this kid, curled up, praying, looking like shit at the end of the street. Things are eerily quiet other than that, empty. Hate it when things get like that. It's just wrong. Well, a lot of this is wrong, but back on the subject. Zie's just a-praying. And there He is, standing over the kid, all this rippling around Him, looking like a squid orgy, the sound of...tearing, and then gone. Like He was never there, the colors are back, the sounds after a few minutes. Well, other than the fact that we now have a really screwed-over teen on our hands.

We snagged zer and bolted for the car after checking for broken bones. It hurt thoguh, I could tell that much, considering the outright scream when we first touched zer. Surprisingly, there were none, just these... burns on the chest and back, fairly extensive. They're all black and gross, but I'm tending to them as best I can now that we're back at the hotel. I wanted to go to the hospital, but zie was vociferous about negating that idea. Zie calmed down quick enough, but there's this tenseness there, which is understandable, really. Two strange chicks pop out of nowhere. Got the kid to give me a name, at least. Kailin. That and the fact that I was apparently to use gender-neutral terms once zie noticed I was writing a bit.

Skinny, skinny kid, about fifteen or sixteen, if I had to guess, long black hair, darkish skin, big brown eyes. Obviously been on a good few miles of hard road. We got Kailin cleaned up and I've been tending to zer a bit. Talking a little, abut me and Tia... Talking to Tia.

She was slightly reluctant at first to pull Kailin into our little fold despite being concerned, but I'm not going to abandon zer, not like this, not in this state. So... She's trusting my judgement on this, though she says it's sort of probationary (I'm paraphrasing, but she cussed and I'm not in the mood to do that.)

We decided since it's a one-bed hotel room, once the tub was scrubbed out, that would most likely be better than the floor. I dragged my pillows out of the truck and into the room, and called for some extra blankets, and we padded the tub up into a pallet. So there we are at the moment. It's time to do what I can, at least.

One Foot in Front of the Other

I have two points to make. Or address. Or whatever. One is more of a story. The second thing just... needs to be said. For formalities sake.

First thing's first, let's address visiting California. Under circumstances that are just... not pleasant enough to warrant a happy week.

Blake's mom... is probably the sweetest little woman ever. Standing at not over 4'11", shaped like a pear, mouse-brown hair that stands on end no matter the weather or how she attempts to put it all together... she's just incapable of putting it together anyway but frizzy.

Utterly adorable with a personality to match.


And three baby brothers. All idolizing him. All with matching sets of locks like their mothers. Blaise was always the odd-blond-out. But he loved them so very deeply.


I had to... give them some sort of closure. Blake hadn't called in weeks. And hardly a word before Christmas. I knew. I knew he wasn't all right. His family knew he wasn't all right. What little communication was so... garbled... so twisted. I don't know what they thought.


So I told them... a lie. A bald-faced lie.


I told them we had an argument on the road and there were tears and we had parted ways for a night. I had thought it was just a night, that we just needed some separation, but he didn't come back in the morning. I told the lie until I started to believe it. I started to believe I had no idea what had happened to him from there. I started to believe that we had looked for him for weeks. I believed it entirely by the time I was in tears and... I had to tell them that I didn't think I'd ever see him again. Because I won't. It's impossible.


I told them I didn't know he would react so badly, and I didn't know what he was doing, and if he would ever come home. Even though I know he never will. He can't. And it's my fault. I tried to console the boys. I hugged when it was appropriate. I cried when it was inappropriate.


I played a good part. They had us in for dinner. We were emotional and apologetic. The topic finally changed though. Something insignificant. We left before dark and were out of state again before dawn. I'm going to keep this far and away from them.


And now I've no idea where we'll end up. Maybe the midwest. I like the snow even if Lissie claims it's nothing but mischief.


---


Part two, the oddly hard part of this post...


I'm pregnant. I'm keeping my baby. And I'm going to fight for my little. Don't be mistaken. These are not the circumstances I want to be in for raising a child. I'd rather not be running for dear life with the father who I once loved dead.


But I'm keeping the baby anyway.


I think I can raise a child right. And so I'm going to let myself try.

Guilt

Things are never simple, huh? I'm sitting out here in the truck, waiting for Tia to come back out. We're at Blake's parents' place at the moment. She's inside...

Maybe not the safest move, but I'd let something slip. It's at least partially my fault, after all. I'f i'd just gotten theere sooner. If I'd just said something sooner. If. If. If.

Maybe it's arrogant to think I could've made a difference, but maybe I could've or maybe I'd have just made things worse, just like other times. It seems to happen more often than not, but... I could've done something, even if was wrong.

It keeps happening. How long until it's Tia's body?

No. Not going to think that way. But yeah, like I said, we decided that... Even though it's not the safest, I should probably stay outside. That whole "chronic inability to lie" thing might be a probelm in this. Heh...  Probably a reasonable precaution, even if I've already been in a staring contest, of sorts. Come on, Tia... Hurry up.

Some 'Splainin to Do

(it seemed appropriate, with Konaa's return.)
It's been a week. Okay, more than a week now. A week and a half. Had to squeeze in time to see a doctor after the test and hope I was... fooling myself. Panic attacks can do great changeful things to a woman's body.


Unfortunately this is not one of those times. Unfortunately, now, I have a decision to make. Unfortunately I have a lot to think about on the matter. Reasons to keep the unknown parasite, reasons not to keep it. Factors that can't be let go so simply. I don't know if I'm determined enough right now...


But it would give me plenty of reasons to keep going. To persevere. And Lissie would be here with me. That much is nice to think about.


I haven't made a decision yet. Don't make this about the rights and wrongs of woman and her body and the things she may or may not chose to carry within it. I haven't made my decision, so it's not the time to hatefully discuss hateful matters.


After I've made up my mind, I'll let you all trample me with all that. For now, I've all the reasons in the world to not care about the moral blasphemies.

Dreams, Dreaming, Dreamt

First, no, there hasn't been a test yet. Not enough time to be sure of accuracy, if the timing's what I'm pretty sure it is. Lovely.

Yeah, I've been dreaming again, and painting and drawing. Ya'll don't get to see those right now, though. My camera broke, and honestly, there are some things that don't bear seeing. Believe me, these don't.

Dreaming is always strange, yeah? Shadows on he horizon, becoming more distinct. But then, there's always been shadows on the horizon, they're just getting closer. Shadows have faces. Maybe it was easier when I couldn't identify the faces. Maybe it was easier when I didn't dream of people I've met and people I've never met dying or not dying. It's layered. Mutable. Things are changeable.

Sitting in a room as a teenager, talking to Doctor Sanchez. There's someone else there. I can't... I can't see. That's the weird part, because I always see, and I always remember. But this time, all I can tell is there's another person. It's like there's a gap in the dream, a place where the colors don't flow. 

There are always colors, especially in dreams. It's weird, I know. Colors and imagey sorts of things, feelings. It's usually not a big thing, not worth mentioning, I guess it's a form of synesthesia, though it's been getting worse over the last few months. Especially when I'm on pain meds, it's not just distracting little things in the corner of my eye. That's part of why I've been trying to wean myself off of meds earlier than I "should" every time I get hurt. Maybe I'm hallucinating. Maybe I'm nutso. Well... That last part was a given.

Shadows. A teenager, hurt.Have to help. Can't... Can't tell a lot of things, but I hate this kind of dream. Where you're standing there, frozen, and you have to watch someone hurt or die. Can't change it... But you have to. Can't even tell if it's a boy or a girl. Dark hair, dark eyes. Two people in one shell. Fire... Ugh. I have to... Things can be changed.

Right.

Well, Now I'm Pissed

I just missed my...


Fuckshit. This fucking sucks. Give it a week. Calm the fuck down.


I'm fine.

A Note

Shaun left on Monday. We were sad to see him go, but I get that he feels he needs the space. Email me or call any time, man. We're moving on again.

Tia's still pretty quiet, but despite Sheppy-boy's post, she's a little better. Smiling a little easier.

Also:
Not that anyone's going to read this or even gives a care what I have to say, but since it's apparently International Jump on Elaine Logan's Case Week (Or so)
(Paraphrased from an email I sent her in response to all of this)
1.Elaine has never been anything but kind to me. That's got to count for something, because I'm not the most social sort. a
2. She does try to have at least some people's best interest in mind (though rarely fully her own) which is more than I can say for many of the people I've read about in these situations, much less met.
3. Yes, she has her rough edges, and can be, as some might say, a "bitch" to outsiders, to the people she does let in, she can be one of the most caring, loving, loyal (many might say stupidly so) people I have ever met.
4. She is trying to atone for her past. That is one of the of the hugest things to me. She wants to make things better, and she acts on it rather than sitting around with her thumb up hrr butt. She knows that she will never find personal retribution, and so she does what you can to fight for what you can grasp, what she can do to help others.
5.Yes, she screwed up and made bad decisions. She screwed up big time, she has hurt others, many others, but she is trying to fight past that. Maybe people will eventually try to forgive her or convince her that they do, but she's not going to forgive herself. She's beating herself up over things plenty without any help.

I could also go into the subject of bullies who kick people when they're down, but honestly, Gargoyle's not worth the time or energy.

None of us are perfect, so what right have we to judge, anyway?

Freezing Hands and Bloodless Veins

He had you in his grasp, it was all he ever wanted, and he gave you up again. We all know your side of the story; you left him because you had to, not because you wanted to. You and Darling Elisa moved on because it was safer that way. You see, there was too much outer influence on Blakeykins, and you know Sweetling, that was just too risky. Sometimes you've got to make selfish decisions. But what about his side of the story? I'm sure you've wondered...


Oh, the boy would've done anything for you, can't you see that Sweet? Can't you see? He held you so close there in the end, not because you were leaving him, or because those were the last moments you had together, but because all he had in him was love for you.


I have to wonder, what is it to be loved that much? Is it suffocating? Does it feel like you're drowning? Was it beautiful? Oh Sweet, I am so curious. All he ever had on his mind was you; there must be some redeeming qualities.


Enough babbling, I have a story to tell. He took you. He took you and Darling Elisa's truck (adorable little heroine that she is) and drove away, far and fast and away, and he kept you. He had you all a pretty on his bed, and you had nowhere to go. It was dark and scary and a little bit damp in that basement. See, he had to keep you safe. He had to keep you from me, and the faceless one. Oh dear, silly boy, he didn't know just how much influence we could leave on a man with so deep a love. To be entirely honest, neither had I, but I was made nice and aware of the fact.


He talked in long sentences about commitment and fear and loss and loneliness and cold, cold hands on his face. Hurts, loneliness, cold, fear. Who took advantage of who, I wonder? He talked of darker, scarier places than where he had you, and freezing breath and hardly feeling at all. He talked about abandonment. It was the first time he'd told you any of it, even if at least some of it had happened before you left him. Where were you, I wonder? He talked about how allying yourself with the proper enemies could keep you safe. Or safer. Some delusions are just delusions. He talked about Elisa in the greenest tone I have ever heard.


Oh jealousy, you are such a vicious mistress.


He talked for a long, long time. He'd forgotten to eat or drink or bathe in his excitement at your presence. He'd forgotten that you need to eat or drink or bathe or piss or... well, you get the idea. He moved too close and you shied away. He put his arms around you to hold you like he used to hold you, to embrace you as he always had, and your fear showed in shivers and sobs. He just wanted to love you, and you did nothing but try to run. You tried to run to the outside. Where you could have been hurt or abandoned or betrayed; where it's harder to survive.


Finally, he seemed to break entirely. It seemed the betrayal had finally sunk in. It became apparent that you did not love him anymore. It seemed he finally noticed. His affectionate tone, his protective stance changed in mere moments. You had to act quickly, because all of a sudden there was a knife in his hand and he's coming at you. You were scrambling to find something to defend yourself with. A board, a stick, a loose tile, a lamp. Anything. You came across a gun. It's not what you wanted to come across, but it was what fell into your hands. How did it end up there anyway? It's almost as though someone simply handed it to you.


Normally you're more rational than this in a fight. Normally you think about your opponent's motives and movements and patterns and weaknesses. It's what anyone with a lick of training does, but you've had a moment of weakness. This is the one of the few people you'd never dreamed of fighting, and let's not forget your waning physical state. You honestly didn't know if you could land a punch, let alone pull that trigger your finger kept brushing across. Your grip had never been so shaky, and it's not until he'd stabbed you that you were reacting. You fired that weapon blindly, in a struggle to survive.


He gasped, his hands covered in your blood, and he smiled. He smiled because he felt that sweet release. He couldn't ask for it. No, you see, he had to play it the hard way. You couldn't know that was the clearest thought he had in over two months. You couldn't know that the moment you fired that gun he was asking for it. He came at you with all the intent to kill you in his eyes. You didn't realize that stab wound was harmless until long after whatever was left of him was gone. He made it about you babe, in the end that's all he was about: you.


He had realized that he would be the one to kill you and end all those precious details you cherish in your day to day life, including Darling Elisa. And you do love her so, don't you? How quickly you've moved on. The only option, to protect you, Sweetling, was to have you end him. You had to stop his heinous devolution. And really it could only have been you, otherwise it wouldn't have been fair to him. You haven't been fair to him in such a long, long time have you? Oh Sweetling, Sparrow, you dear heart you, his last action was his most selfless one.


Funny how things like that work out isn't it?

Happy New Year

They say to do the thing on New Years that you want to do for the rest of the year.  I refuse to regret this.

 We can do no great things; only small things with great love... Let's make this year one worth living, and hold onto the kind of courage that is not all-encompassing, but which gets you along from minute to minute.