"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.
Showing posts with label Elisa Time. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Elisa Time. Show all posts
Friday, July 13, 2012
Thursday, June 21, 2012
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.
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.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
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.
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
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.
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.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
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".
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".
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
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.
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.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
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.
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.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
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.
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.
Friday, April 13, 2012
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.
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.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
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.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
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.
... Stupid birthday. Stupid shadows. Go away. Go away. Go away.
This is my fault.
I... We'll be fine.
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.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
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.
...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.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
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.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
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.
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.
Friday, March 2, 2012
Sunday, February 26, 2012
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.
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.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
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.
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.
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