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".

Looking Back on Things.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nostalgia dump-friendship

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

Halfway into Sophomore year. Nearly a year after the incident which shattered my life. The skinny bastard, I hear you say?
No.

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

I let myself be a victim.

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

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

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

She got sent home, of course.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Homesick

It's almost unreal how normal life is right now. Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining.

There were video games with some of the other guys here, not to mention the dinner Tia made, which was awesome. She was singing today while she did things about the room. It's good to hear her sing again. Means she's content. She had a rough night of it last night though. Nightmares is my suspicion. She just couldn't settle right for sleep. Seems like it's settled now though. Which is more than a good thing.

Tia makes me think of home, and how I miss it. How I miss my family. How close I used to be to them. We used to have barbecues almost every other Saturday and there would be sports watching and video games and other such things. They were good times. Tia treats me right, asked me to bring home pork chops so I could have a taste of that home I miss today.

I'm not about to start regretting though. I'm still happy with Tia. I just wish we could visit home again, but that's a bad idea and everyone involved knows it. So we'll let baseball games go unwatched in the family environment and let them keep on thinking I'm on a happy road trip for this long while. Maybe when things calm down, but... that's unlikely to happen.

A Taste of Normalcy

Lissie and I went into town today - for the first time in months we had some quality, just us time. She is my longest friend you know, it's not as though that comes without any bonding time. I did miss Lissie time when I was living in California, you know it's not the same with phone calls and skype chats.


So we went out to eat at a fanciful restaurant with menus that had no prices on the listings and spoiled ourselves silly. We even dared to eat dessert. It was a bold night for us, but that butterscotch cheesecake was beyond worth it. So were the ribs. I have no regrets, even if my wallet does.


Then we hung out in a cafe until closing and just people watched for a couple hours. There was this mother and daughter pair and the girl was still in her softball cleats and she was all manner of sort of adorable. Sometimes I feel like such a freakin' breeder. I'm okay with that most days. Other days the idea of smallish me-spawn is terrifying.


And we talked about everything. It's been such a long time since we've gone from a topic like the best flavor whipped cream to politics to relationships and feelings. It was good to get things out and in the open, including the scarier bits of our situation. She's better at all the understanding bits about Him, I've never been the best at research, but she is. Thank heavens for that, because otherwise I'm sure we'd all be dead.


Yay for not being dead and still being able to joke about blueberry flavored punch or gingerbread houses or Sir Boll Weevil and his trusty sidekick the Dustbunny.

Lis is Back

Everyone cheer happy cheers! She woke up yesterday, late evening, and we had a nice, long conversation to do with... everything that went on Friday. And what we're going to do in the future about it. I think it would be more befitting for Lissie to tell you all of those details when she's good and well with them, if ever she wants to. It's up to her, and I wouldn't ask her to do anything she didn't want to.


We also got to have a nice little room-service dinner and extend our stay a little while longer. I don't particularly want to, but we do need to let Lis heal properly, and those are precious stitches I did. She won't be popping a single one if I've anything to say about it.


In the meanwhile, since we're sitting ducks until further notice, I think it's time for a little trip down memory lane. I mentioned my father in the last blog post. And I think this deserves some mention. My father was a soldier. Daddy was a Sergeant, and as far as titles go, it's not the highest, but it's a good, respectable position.  Our family got a lot of respect on the bases, but we were also moved around a lot. Dad got a lot of transfers, and he was on his way up. We stayed in the same place the longest... only when he was overseas. One of those times was Enterprise, Alabama. And that's where I met Lissie, the sweetheart that she is. We can go deeper into the memories of Fort Rucker another time.


I was little, and my dad was home more often, well, we weren't exactly the typical family when it came to bonding activities. My father started teaching me mixed martial arts around eight. We spent hours every day practicing proper form and kicks and punches. My eight-year-old self didn't really understand that he was teaching me ways to defend myself, that he never wanted me to be helpless, I just knew it was father-daughter time and that was what was important. It wasn't all the time, but it felt wonderful to be able to join my dad for morning work-outs.


Yes, you know what that means? I'm a morning person. I liked to take runs before the sun's even risen. Yeah. I'm crazy. Unfortunately things like that are... less practical now. Oh well, practicality's got priority right now.


He taught me emergency first-aid. And what it means to be in a war. Not the pretty glamorous things they tell you in the media. But what it means to be fighting another man and when it comes down to it, it's either him or you and there's no getting around that. My dad taught me a lot about practicality and war and love. And I appreciated him when I had him around. I didn't have him very often.


I miss him, a lot. Blake never got to meet him. The last assignment... didn't go over so well. Sometimes people  aren't so lucky. I miss him. I don't feel like I saw him enough. I have to wonder how my mother must feel when she thinks about him.


Anyway, enough nostalgia. We'll be heading for a safe place in the next few days. We need some down time. And Elaine's been kind enough to offer us some with her.

Story Time

Here's a story boys and girls. Pull up a pillow and let's talk.

I didn't used to be this puling, quivering, worthless wreck I tend to be at times, and the fact of the matter is, most of that has nothing to do with our pale-faced friend. It's a funny world like that. Unlike seemingly a lot of people involved with this stuff, as far as I know, I was a pretty darn normal kid. Well, for a certain value of "normal". A bit precocious at times, but hey, that's life.

I did Girl Scouts, Ballet, and even 4-H. I was in the band and played clarinet in middle school and high school. I wore frilly dresses and gave my mother conniptions by climbing trees and playing in ditches in said frilly dresses. I went hunting with my father... Not in the frilly dresses. I miss how things were back then, of course. I hadn't met Tia at that point though, so that's one thing I don't miss.

Heck, I even did pageants some when I was little. A shocker, I know. It was kind of fun, actually. At least up to a point. Except for the time I got kicked out of one. One of the little tiara-hogs was being a bully to one of the other girls because it was her first pageant, and the kid had braces, so I "accidentally" spilled some juice on the brat's pretty little rabbit-fur coat. Honestly, who needs furs in the area of the country I'm from, anyway?

Miss Priss got really quiet for a moment, an then started screaming at me and tried to claw me. I'm not ashamed to say that I punched her, right in the nose. And that's when everything fell apart on a spectacular level and mom and I got kicked out of the civic center until the pageant was over. She was a bully and totally deserved it, though.

...I wish I had half the guts now that I did as a kid. I'm not a fighter. I'm barely even a survivor. And as odd as it sounds, if not for this turn of events, I'd be very, very alone. Wow, that's selfish. Maybe that would be for the better, though. My dad got laid off, things happened, my parents divorced. My mom was in a severe car wreck and died. For obvious reasons, it's not fun to talk about. I don't have many big, dramatic reveals to show, like some of the others I've seen, but I don't know anymore. I don't know.


~Don't look back
Keep your head held high
Don't ask them why
Because life is short
And before you know
You're feeling old
And your heart is breaking
Don't hold on to the past~

Memories

Still having trouble keeping solid food down, on top of everything else.

Nobody's found the kids or searchers who went missing last month. Of course.

It's funny. I remember back when things were "normal", when dad hadn't disappeared off into the aether, and mom was still alive. We used to go camping all the time. I took comfort in those times, when I was spending time with my parents, dad taking me hunting. I thought we were happy. Heck, I even went to Girl Scout camp for seven years. All that sort of thing.

Looking back on that, I have to laugh a little. I'm not sure why I'm laughing other than the fact that the woods used to be a place I was never afraid of. I do remember the feeling of being watched, but that's it. That's not an uncommon thing in quiet areas, though.  maybe I'm weird, but that's something I've dealt with ever since I was a kid, that feeling of "Something's watching you from the dark". I never knew until recently how right I was.

My first nightmares were of the dark. I would be in some pitch black place, with near silence. It's funny that I remember it so clearly all these years since those specific dreams stopped. I would be in some sort of cavern, though the only way I could tell that was by touch and the sounds of water dripping. Things were moving around in the darkness around me, slight rustlings amplified by the weird acoustics. I would end up crawling along the floor in an attempt to get away or find my way out, but there was never any way to do so, the chill of the cavern seeping into my bones as I crawled farther and farther into the depths. In some of the nightmares, there was this horrible screeching sound, but I always woke up before anything else happened.

Not like anyone gives a rip about these little stories. This, the undertoad, it's all just stupid history compared to right now.




Later: Sorry, I had to leave this window up for a bit due to the fact that someone threw something through one of the front windows of the house. I'll have to fine some way to seal that or get that repaired... Lovely... And of course, the piece of cinder block has a few symbols painted on it...And what looks and smells like blood. Getting that thing out of the house as soon as I can. I saw blood in the grass out there, but I'm not going to go check on it right now. Looks like it's just blood, nothing with it. Ugh. I've got the shakes somethign fierce right nnow.  Patch is frreaking out, and Marie is having her own tizz. I need to puke or cry, or something.

Reasons

Admittedly, it's nice having another person in the house, keeping me company. Keeping me accountable. We set her up in the living room, and she seems to be fairly comfortable on the futon. Even though Marie has her own little tics, like her refusal to use the computer as anything other than a glorified music player, her company is nice. Earlier, when she asked me why I was willing to do the research I have been for her, I wasn't exactly sure where to start.

I guess a lot of my curiosity about things that most people don't see or think are real stems from some stories my mom told me when I was little. Apparently, I was a little too enamored of the ocean as a kid, and every time we went down to the beach (living only an hour or so from the gulf is nice), they had to worry about me trying to swim too deep. I have to wonder why she went about it this way, but my mother told me stories about a creature called the Undertoad, a terrible over-sized amphibian that lived in the Gulf whose favorite prey was children. Any child who wasn't careful while swimming was in danger of being grabbed by the feet and dragged out to sea where they would be drowned and then eaten. Oddly enough, though, I believed her. Not due to being a gullible child, but because I'd seen or thought I'd seen something under the water out by the sand bars once. Something large and lumpy, with skin that looked black and green, with huge reflective eyes, even in the waters of the gulf. Maybe it was the result of an over-active imagination, but I never went out that far again until I was older.

Looking back, I feel sure that at least logically, it was just a story to scare a child away from danger, but the figure I saw under the water made me curious, even as it had terrified me. Maybe that's strange, but I was never exactly what a lot of people would consider completely normal. The main reason I'm putting this here is because I didn't really answer Marie earlier, and I know she'll read this. Another part of it is that I just want to record that bit of a story mom told me while I'm thinking about it. It's been lonely.

As to the other events, there's been no news on the search for the kids, and I'm considering joining the search, even though I likely wouldn't be much help. I think I saw Hoodie McLurkerpants when I was in town today, but he was gone when I actually looked. I'm not sure whether that's fortunate or not, but I'll go with fortunate.

Great.

Sorry I haven't posted in a few days. Things have been a bit weird in the area since the fourth. Apparently during the festivities of the night, two kids went missingin in the next town over, ostensibly having wandered off while their families were distracted.  No sign other than a headband and a sneaker has been found. They've been searching the woods in the area.

Marie called me last night, babbling something about her brother... Anyone who knows that family knows what I'm talking about. Jared Sinclair went missing back in high school. He would have been in the same graduating class as me, but he was a bit depressive even back in middle school.. I remember, because we went to the same therapist in town and used to meet up at the cafe in that area to talk a little and just give each other a little company. He was a bit paranoid, and always seemed to be doodling things. Jared wasn't the most talkative of people, but then, giving each other company wasn't exactly about talking, most of the time. It was almost nice, just sitting there in silence while he doodled and I read. Marie told me that he would never let her or their parents into his room, and when they went in to search it after he disappeared, the walls were almost solid blue and black from ballpoint pen and marker drawings on the walls. I almost wish I'd been able to get pictures of it, but the times I've been over to the Sinclair house since then, I was kept away from that room, and from what I could see through the partially open door once, her parents have repainted it since then.

Marie, I'm sorry if I'm saying too much, but I've just been thinking about those days recently. I feel sure you'll call me if there's something you want removed. I'm starting to think I know what you may suspect. These things don't happen in Alabama though... Right? Or at least not around here.