Halloween

It has literally taken me all night to write this. I keep getting interrupted by guisers. Currently, I'm dressed as the grim reaper, but I'll maybe say more about that further down the page.

So, October's just about finished. No snow yet. I suppose it should be comforting, but I have a feeling it means we're in for a hard time in November. It's gotten colder. It's too cold for me to go out running in the mornings anymore, and it's usually dark by the time I get home.

I've seen people in masks all day. Not so much during the light hours, and there were only a few this morning. When I was coming home, it looked like someone in a scream mask was following me, but I managed to lose them by going into Tesco (if they were even following me at all, and not just heading there to pick up some eggs).

College was much the same as usual. The kitchen was back in operation (you know, funny thing, they use the cookery students as kitchen staff), so there can't have been too much damage. There was some sort of charity/business thing down in the cantine/social area, but I usually don't pay them any attention.

I'm missing my Mum. I keep happy when I'm with my friends, and being with them does help my mood, but the pain's slowly getting worse again. My random hallucinations aren't as jovial as they usually are, either (although that tends to happen around late autumn anyway - I think it's to do with the lack of sunlight).

Susan keeps making me angry. She keeps suggesting that I should try and join the Slender Man's side. "Afterall, our Mum obviously wasn't trustworthy. Perhaps her death was for the best." She also seems to have this perverted crush on him. And when I try to argue with her, she keeps trying to conivnce me that it's the only way I'll find out what really happened.

Usually I can turn to Pete in times like this. He's usually such a source of calm and reason. Even he seems worried.

At least I still have Liam. The paranoia's getting worse, though. I know nothing has actually happened to me, and if Slender Man was responsible for the fire then I'd most probably be dead. Maybe it's all just coincidence. I've had a lot of encounters with strange coincidences. Sometimes I know things I shouldn't. And sometimes I'll say something completely random and it happens. I remember I once happily predicted a die roll ten times in a row. It was back when I felt like life was a game, just a big construct for me to play in. Now I remember that, and other things like it, and it shocks me. I can only put it down to coincidence. For instance, since then I'm lucky if I can guess a die roll twice out of six throws.

Anyway, I'm rambling. Dad spent most of the day making up treat bags for the guisers. We get a lot of them round our bit. Our street seems to have a reputation for going over-the-top with decorations (pumpkin garlands on trees, for example). I like dressing up. I don't think I've ever been guising, but I've been dressing up and handing out sweets for the past three years. I like my grim reaper costume because it obscures my face.

I even do an act for them. I talk in a soft, deep voice, and tell them if they entertain me enough then I'll consider letting them live for another year. The jokes are usually rubbish, although you sometimes get a gem (which is then used the next year by almost everyone), and one year a larger group of kids performed a whole song and dance routine!

Anyway, it's nearly time for bed, yet again. We're not likely to have any more visitors, and I'm pretty much tired out. Time to feast on left-over sweeties and monkey nuts.

Grrr...

The internet decided to fail me again. Ah well, worse things happen in space. (or was it at sea?) I managed to save what I'd written last night as a word document, but before I post it, I'd like to share something that happened today.

This morning, after breakfast, I had some free time so I decided to see if there was anything good on CBBC. (And I'd like to take this opportunity to say that Young Dracula is awesome!)

Anyway, I was watching the telly (sitting next to the window) when I noticed a daddy long-legs (crane fly) trying to get out. So I did what any true gentleman would do and opened the window. It flew straight out the window (on it's on initiative, I didn't need to coax it or anything) and into a spider's web. All but one of its six legs was trapped, and it struggled gallantly, even managing to free one of its legs, but eventually it fell still, and its captor (a 2cm, round, fat, garden spider) approached. Upon seeing the spider, the daddy long-legs again started to struggle, but it was too late. The spider climbed on top of its prey, and the struggling ceased. I watched as it carefully wrapped up the bundle. (It was a surprisingly tight package, especially considering the length of those legs.) It then painstakingly removed the package from its surroundings and carried it to a place near the web's anchors, and began repairing the web where it was broken.

I've been thinking about it a lot today, and I feel it illustrates the nature of life. Death could come any second. We struggle so hard to make our lives work, to find meaning and purpose and comfort. Sometimes I think it's the struggle that defines us. We are who we are, and we live to fight against the constraints and dangers of the world we live in. But again, we don't know the future. A meteorite (or a plane, or anything really) could fall out of the sky and kill me this instant. It's unlikely (and I don't think meteorites have ever killed a human being) but there's no universal law that says it couldn't happen.

But as I was saying, life is a series of little hurdles. Some of them we cross, some of them we don't. And some of them are more vital than others. Take that crane fly. It was struggling against a barrier it couldn't see. Then, in a random act of kindness on my part, I took away the barrier and in its last moments of freedom it tasted fresh air again. But a second later it was trapped again, and this time, death came quickly.

And on that note, here's what happened yesterday:

Something freaky happened today. I said I wasn't going to let paranoia ruin my life, and I'm sure this is just coincidence (and a pretty loose connection at that), but still, the what-ifs are driving me ... crazier?

Heh, you might already know I had a Physics test today. If not then, I had a Physics test today. It was first thing, and I finished early so I decided to log on and see if anyone had updated (after I finished my sandwich of course ^_^). I only had time to post one comment before A joined me (and I can't let my friends know I have a blog). B was soon to follow, and we still had half an hour before Maths so we decided to surf YouTube (with all the hillarity/conflict you would expect). In fact, I think I'll share this classic with you before I carry on:



So we stayed on the computer until around five minutes before class was due to start. Just as we got upstairs (all my classes are on the second floor, despite there being classrooms on the first and third floors) the fire alarm went off.

Now, my college has a strange alarm. It's basically a calm, authoritative (= male English), voice saying that an alarm's gone off, people have been sent to check it, and we might have to evacuate. At least, that's the first-stage alarm. (Until today I hadn't heard the second stage, and I'd only heard the first stage because they test the system every Friday in the middle of Chemistry.)

We waited at the top of the stairs for a few minutes, looking out the window (we were right above the front door), waiting to see if it would switch off or change. Eventually we saw people leaving the building en masse, but the alarm was still repeating the same message. We didn't know what to do, so we decided to go downstairs to see what was happening. When we got to the first floor, we found that the alarm had changed to the same calm, authoritative (= male English), voice now saying that it was an emergency and we should "please evacuate the building".

When we got to the ground floor, the smell was rancid - reminiscent of burnt orange peel. We were ushered out by safety officers and had to make our way to the park behind the college. We weren't able to see if any fire engines turned up, but twenty minutes later we were once again climbing two flights of stairs to get to Maths. And as it turned out, the second floor hadn't had an order to evacuate, and everybody else was sitting in class.

Nobody there was sure if it was intentional, and I'm not likely to find out without sounding paranoid and/or obsessive. Apparently the kitchen went on fire. [I don't know how extensive the damage is, but the cantine was closed for the rest of yesterday (wed) and today (thurs).] The freaky thing is, my Maths classroom is right above the kitchen (well, two floors above).

None of us on the second floor were in any danger, and it was only by chance that A, B and I were evacuated, but it's freaked me out nonetheless. I don't know what to make of it.

Grumbling

So going for a run about an hour and a half before sunrise might not have been the best idea given recent circumstances, but I refuse to rearrange my life on account of paranoia. And anyway, I wasn't tackled by any random proxies, so I suppose that's a plus.

Taking that into account, as well as the lack of fruit from my hyper-awareness, I don't think I'm being watched. It's a relief, I suppose.

I don't know. On the one hand, I'm glad I don't have to constantly worry about my safety, but on the other, how will I ever find out what happened to my mother?

I said, at the time, that I didn't want her to be gone for such a trivial reason as a blood clot, but I'm not sure I agree with that anymore. I just want to know what happened. Is that too much to ask?

On the more domestic side of things, I'm back at work now, my Dad's joined one of the church's house groups, and college has me as busy as ever. We've started studying Cuckoo's Nest in earnst (it was broken up a little by essay deadlines and tests) and if I get the time I might tell you what I (and maybe some of my assosciates) thought of it. Apparently after Christmas we'll be studying Romeo and Juliet. I don't know much about the plot, but I do know that they die at the end (despite what the garden gnomes may tell you).

The Results of a Lot of Thinking

I've been running today. I needed to get things sorted out in my head.

I didn't sleep very well last night. I suppose that's to be expected with having a late-afternoon nap, though.

Oh look, I'm already making light of the situation. How droll. (not)

All this time, I was reading these blogs, keeping up with events hundreds of miles away, and now I find out he's been here all along. How could I have been so blind? Looking back, there were signs. Stress, well, the stress could have been anything. But she was afraid to go into the woods. She knew. Why didn't I notice?

And what happens now?  What has been happening? I was sure of myself. I was finally managing to figure out what the world was like. Now I realise how very far out of the loop I was - still am.

-Calm yourself, Barb. Melodramatic imagery won't get you anywhere closer to understanding what on earth is happening.-

I know what I'll do, I'll ask future-Barb. (Something I do when I'm stressed about something that I can't possibly know the answer to is to write it down for my future self to answer when she finds out.)

Right then. Questions for future-Barb:

• How did my mother discover Mr. Tall?
• Was she being followed?
• Was her death natural causes, or was she murdered?
• Why would she draw an operator symbol at the back of her diary?
• Am I being watched?
• Has he been watching me ever since I was a child?
• Is it all my fault?

Okay, that should be enough for now. I'll try and concentrate on other things and leave the questions on my left hand, so-to-speak.

I just hope I can keep this all from Dad. He's already a little suspiscious, so I can't let on that anything's the matter.

I threw up.

I think I'm going to stay in bed for the rest of the afternoon. Pete's keeping me company. I've got a small fever and I feel all weak and shaky.

I'll be checking my laptop every-so-often, just in case any of you are reading. Please, if you're awake and you're reading this just now, what do I do? Has he been watching me all along? Is just coincidence, that he was stalking my Mum, that I saw him when I was younger?

I looked out my window earlier. I couldn't see anyone apart from Liam. He's inside now. I couldn't let him stay out there. I'm probably just being paranoid.

I might try to sleep. This is too much. Whatever the truth is, it changes everything.

*gulp*

Alright, this is... I'm scared.

Me and Dad decided it was time to start going through Mum's old things and deciding what to do with all of it. At first it was almost painful to look at, but once we started going, the items began triggering happy memories, and the mood became lighter. I think it was really doing us good.

But then Dad unearthed Mum's work diary. He was on the other side of the room, flicking through it, looking at the number of appointments that would have been cancelled. ("There's even one in December!") But then suddenly he said "Hey Barb, come look at this."

He looked puzzed.

He'd flipped to the back of the diary. There was a list of holidays that she'd marked in pen, but it had been scribbled over with two pencil drawings.

One of them was an operator symbol. The other was Mr Tall himself.

My Dad asked me what the symbol was. I was almost too shocked to talk. I'm still shocked. I had to think fast. I told him it was the tensor product symbol and it's used in Maths, so she must have been talking to someone about a Maths problem.

He accepted my answer but still looked puzzled. Mum wasn't into doodling. I think he was suspicious. We carried on, but I felt so sick and dizzy and scared. I managed to keep my cool for several minutes, but eventually I couldn't take it any more. I had to get to my laptop without him getting suspicious. I let myself go slowly, so it looked like I was turning funny. I told him I didn't feel too good and ran into the bathroom. I sat on the toilet for a while and making groaning noises, and when I came out I said I thought I needed a rest and ran to my room.

I went straight for my laptop and I've been typing this since. I don't know what to do. Everything's been flipped. My life ... I thought I knew what my life was like. But my Mum obviously knew about the Slender Man. Was she being stalked? Is that why she's gone?

What's happening?!

The Funeral

It's strange, taking into account the amount of rain we get, that whenever there's a funeral, it often stays dry. I suppose it would make sense that pathetic fallacy doesn't work in the real world, but the weather always seems to go actively out of its way to be unatmospheric. (and no, the irony of that comment wasn't lost on me)

I'm sorry I couldn't get this up earlier, the Laptop of Doom decided to live up to its name again. On top of that I've got a lot of work to do for college. It's supposed to be the holidays, for goodness sake! Anyway, mimi-rant over, time to move onto a slightly bigger rant.

The funeral was probably what you would expect. We met at the church (mostly so that everyone could find it, and so it was a central point, partly so we didn't have to have people round at the house), the minister said a quick prayer of strength for us, and then we drove to the crematorium. There were quite a few people there, mostly people who knew us from church. There was a short service and my Dad gave a eulogy, then we headed back to the church for a bite to eat.

It was when me and Dad were welcoming people into the crematorium, that I noticed my old psychiatrist in the line. My initial internal reaction was one of fear, then anger. I suppose I should go into more detail on the backstory here. I haven't seen him since I was a child. In fact, since just after that time I tried to go back to school (I think it's in my second introduction post, hang on, I'll go look for it - here it is ). He's the one who tried putting me on various medications that just made my symptoms worse. I had to spend time as an in-patient, it got so bad. My hallucinations weren't as vivid during that time, I'll give him that, but they were much more disturbing and I lost the ability to think clearly. From near the beginning my Mum tried to convince him to use CBT instead, but it was only after it seemed like he'd tried all the medicines in the book (seriously, in total there was around ten of them, and they left me with side-effects that aren't all gone) that he finally stopped drugging me. I was sent back to school once I was able to repel my delusions and understand that my hallucinations were just hallucinations. But then I met Liam and my peers decided they didn't like me after all. Shortly after that my Mum managed to get me discharged into her care (I don't know how she managed it, but I don't care, words can't express how relieved I was when she told me I wasn't going back). I was pretty messed up after everything that had happened, but she worked with me (and so did Dad, to a certain extent, since he was the one who stayed home with me) and I am who you see (or don't) today.

But back to what made me annoyed. For the sake of my naming scheme, I'm going to call him Dr. D, just in case I need to mention him in the future (hopefully not). He's old. Even older than my Dad (who I hope never reads that comment - sorry Dad!). He retired a few years ago, but evidently he still keeps in contact with the other staff, or he wouldn't have turned up.

So now you understand why I felt like that when I saw him. The only times I saw him and my Mum together were when they were talking (or more accurately disagreeing) about me, and from the occasional comment she made at the dinner table, I gather she didn't agree with his approach.

I had to fight to keep my face straight as he shook my hand. I just wanted to slap him, or punch him, or just yell "WHAT THE F*** DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING HERE!?". Unfortunately my Dad was aready trapped talking to an obstinate church elder, so he couldn't come to my rescue. Our conversation went a little like this:

Dr D: I was so shocked when I heard what happened. She was always so full of life.
Me: Yeah, it was a real shock. She was fine one day, then she was just ... gone.
Dr D: She was a great doctor, the service is going to miss her.
Me (thinking): So finally you admit you're not the ultimate genius of the universe. You were nothing compared to her.
Me (aloud): I'm sure they will.
Dr D: How are you coping?
Me: We're doing alright. It's difficult sometimes, but we've been supporting each other as much as we can.
Dr D: That's good. I remember when my wife died. The whole family almost fell apart. It was a nightmare.
Me: Oh. What brought you back together?
Dr D: *shrugs* We got a dog, and looking after it was such a task that we forgot to argue with each other. *he chuckles*
Me: *looks over at Dad, who is still talking to that elder* Heh. Well, Dad already has me to look after, and I'll be looking after him as well now.
Dr D: *smiles* Good good. Oh, and how are your symptoms nowadays?
I could have punched him. Our church friends know about my "mental illness", but what if they didn't?
Me: *smiles sweetly* Oh, they're still vivid, but not nearly as disturbing as they used to be. I don't let them trouble me.
Dr D: That's good to hear.
He looked almost relieved to hear that. Could it be he actually feels remorse for what he did to me? Perhaps he was just telling himself "see, you didn't mess that little girl's life up after all".
Dr D: And you're managing to fit into society?
Me: Yes, actually, I'm at college this year. And I've got a job.

I couldn't help myself - I'm sure a little bit of pride sneaked its way into my voice. My mind was gloating. Despite everything he'd taken away from me, I've still managed to find a way to live. I'm paving my way into society one slab at a time and nothing can stop me.

Dr D: That's amazing. *his face softens* You really are a testament to her memory.

At this point, the chapel was ready so we started filing in. I was glad to get away from him, but he was right. I wouldn't be where I was without my Mum, and I hope I can do her justice while I'm here.

After the service there was an obligatory shaking of hands again as people came out. When it came to Dr. D's turn again he offered his condolences one last time, said he was sorry that he wouldn't be able to make it to the lunch. And then he gave me his phone number. He said to give him a phone I ever felt like I needed some advice or support, or even just for a little chat.

I knew then exactly what I was going to do with that phone number, and it hasn't left my sock drawer since.

There were two more of my Mum's colleagues at the funeral. I was talking to one of them at the church afterwards. He'd met my Mum and sat in on some of her consultations when he was a student, so he knew what she was like with the patients. He told me that she was sympathetic and understanding, unlike the slightly apathetic style that was more common among psychiatrists at the time (apparently), and she made an effort to connect with them. From what he said it seemed like they got on well. I'm glad she made friends, but I'm also sad that there's more people she's had to leave behind.

Anyway, it's way past my bed time, even for the holidays. Night night!

Goodbye.

To me, you were more than a mother, you were my teacher, my mentor, my champion, my protector. You were the one who comforted me, and you never gave up on me, even when I'd given up on myself. Even when I was broken, and the rest of the world couldn't tolerate my existence, you held me and let me heal. When I was fumbling in the dark, you gave me a match and a candle.

And although you provided for me more than enough, you were never afraid to tell me no. You were my guide whenever I was struggling with my path. You were there when I needed you the most. Even when I thought I didn't need you anymore, you never abandoned me. You were always there with a walking stick in case I fell again.

You loved me despite my weaknesses and despite my lies. Even when you caught a glimpse of my wretchedness, you didn't cast me out, but bathed me and clothed me and made me shine again. You were never repulsed by what you saw within me, the monster that didn't deserve the gifts you gave me.

Words cannot explain how much I love you or the gratitude I feel. Some day, hopefully, we will meet again. Until then, I hope I can make you proud.

I will never forget your kindness.

Coming to terms

I eventually went to college today. It wasn't a case of feeling strong enough to go back to normal, it was more that I felt I needed the company.


The bus journey was awful, though. I kept thinking back to Friday, not knowing what had happened, the fear and the dread. My mp3 player had worked its way round to Linkin Park - A Thousand Suns. In many ways, this weekend had felt like the end of the world. I felt like hope, although not dead, was dim and fading fast.  I really cannot praise that album enough. I'm beginning to see things a little clearer now - zooming out, if you will. There's a bigger world out there, and today I saw a part of it.


I managed in for the second class. I met A and B and told them what had happened. They hugged me and patted me on the back and communicated that they were truly sorry for my loss. And during class, at times, I even managed to laugh. At the end of the day, I told them I couldn't face telling C over text, so B offered to tell him for me. I couldn't be more grateful for my friends' support.

And before I forget, to Tori and Lucia, thank you for the kind words. Knowing people care is one of things that helps me cope. A few months ago, only two real people cared about me, but now there's at least six. That's one of the things that most perplexes me about life - how quickly things can change.

Time seems like it's moving so fast, but I've grown so much in the past two months. It's as if, before I started college, I was used to looking at the world in a geological timeframe, where a millenium is short enough. Now, things happen so fast and change so much that you think it must have been at least a month when it's only been a week and a half.

I've been at college for less than two months. Two months used to fly by for me. Now, two days ... well, like I've said before, a lot can happen in two days. And not even a week ago. My Mum sprained her ankle on wednesday, and two days later she was dead. Has the world always worked like this? Was I too wrapped up in my own events to notice the changes around me?

I have to admit, the weekend's been tough on me. I had to be strong for my Dad. I kept it in my mind that although I lost my mother, he also lost his wife. I don't think it would have been fair to ask him to be strong for both of us.

I think he needs someone to talk to, though. He doesn't have many friends, just acquaintances, really. I think he made this family his main priority in life. He used to have friends, through playgroup and babysitting and things like that. I guess then it's really my fault, for being so weird.

Maybe some people from church would be willing to lend him an ear over a cuppa. He's already phoned our minister to see when he's free for the funeral. It's set for thursday, by the way. Dad already phoned Mum's work on Friday afternoon to let them know about the bad news. He's going to phone them tomorrow morning so they can pass on details of the funeral to her colleagues. Mum never talked to us much about work, but she's not the kind of person who would work in the same hospital for nearly ten years and not make any friends. I am a little nervous about running into many psychiatrists or psychologists at the funeral, especially ones who knew my mother. But I guess it's only natural for me to feel that way, since she seemed to be "protecting me from them" to a certain degree.

Anyway, I'd best be going. Goodnight everyone.

Desolation

Okay. I've woken up. She's not coming back. Nothing I can do - no hoping, no crying, no wishing, no starving myself - can ever bring her back. At first, I didn't want to know how or why. Now, I need a reason. I asked Dad more about what the Doctor's said. Apparently they said something about the lack of movement reducing the bloodflow to her legs, and somehow that made a clot that somehow managed to make its way to her lungs and block a passage and I don't buy it. I don't want to believe that she died for such a trivial reason. There has to be more. Why was she taken away from us?

Nothing seems to be going right. The wind is cold and bitter. Rain falls every so often, but it's the kind that soaks and chills and fills the air, instead of dripping from the sky. The internet hasn't been working since my last post. Just when I need an escape. I can't sleep. I saw her body yesterday. I tried to hold her hand, but it was so stiff and cold, and it felt like ... I don't even want to say. I just knelt down and cried.



I've had this song stuck in my head for over a day now. The main problem is it describes exactly how I feel (apart from the narrated bits, obviously). I just miss her so much. Dad's not been sleeping well. The past two nights he tried sleeping in their bed, but I've seen his eyes in the morning, and last night I thought I heard him yell out around one o'clock. He's in a sleeping bag on the couch tonight. I hope he sleeps well.

I've been running. It helps a little. I just lose my thoughts to the pounding of my feet, and I just feel nothing. My normal hallucinations were back by Friday evening. Yesterday, they all decided to visit me at once. I just turned around and there they were, filling my room, all staring at me with those sad, sympathetic eyes that make you just want to turn feral and attack them. In the end I shouted at them to go away. "Go away! You're not REAL!" I shouted, and they vanished. Then I heard scratching at the door. I opened it and saw Liam. He was sitting on his back paws, looking up at me like he knew what was wrong. I picked him up and took him over to my bed. I just lay there hugging him and crying for hours. I don't know why I had to be born with a malfunctioning brain. Liam's really the only constant presence in my life apart from the "real" people. Maybe I should just run away from it all. Hide inside my head. I don't know if I could do it, though. Completely let go of reality. And I don't think I should, either. I think my Dad needs me, and I've worked for so long away from "society" to claim my spot in the real world.

I don't know if I'll feel up to college tomorrow. It just feels so weird. Maybe something "normal" would help. I don't know. What I do know is that I'd have to get up early, and I don't think that'll be happening. Besides, I think Dad needs some company. I had to buy the shopping yesterday because he's so tired and busy trying to organise the funeral. Anyway, I think I might try and sleep now. It's good to get things off my chest.

Goodnight.

I feel ill.

Dad's not looking so good either. He's been slumped in a chair for hours, just staring out the window. He finished cleaning the blood off the carpet earlier. I suppose I should tell you what happened.

My Mum went upstairs early last night. She said she wanted to get some reading done before bed. I was in my room at the time, but I heard them come up the stairs so I went and said goodnight, and that was the last I saw of her. Apparently she was asleep by the time my Dad went to bed.

He was woken up at around ten to four with Mum hitting him. She was coughing really badly, like she couldn't breathe, and then she started coughing up blood as well, so he knew something was really wrong. He helped her to the bathroom so she could lean over the toilet while he phoned the ambulance, then he wrote me that note, and went back to hold her hand. He told me she looked so scared, like she was afraid of him leaving.

Ten minutes later, the ambulance had arrived. They carried her out, and my Dad stayed with her in the back while the paramedics did their best. By the time they arrived at the hospital, she was nearly gone. She was dead within the next twenty minutes.

I'm going to try and get my Dad to eat something. Neither of us have been able to eat. I've been forcing myself to drink water, because I know what'll happen if I don't. I made up a big jug of water earlier, and I put lemon slices in it to keep it fresh. Ever since Dad sat down, I've been refilling his glass every-so-often. I'll make rice. There's some basmati in the cupboard. Hopefully the smell will stimulate our appetites.

B texted me earlier, asking why I wasn't at college and if I was alright. I said I'd talk to them when I get back. I keep crying. It was so sudden. There wasn't any warning. Dad said the Doctors told him they thought it was a pulimonry embolism or something like that. Whatever it was, apparently it's a (tiny) risk when people are forced to stay off their feet.

I feel like this is just a bad dream, but I know it's not. I just can't believe she's gone so suddenly. The whole world's changed, just overnight. It's not good.

She's gone.

It can't be real.

I woke up at my six this morning for my run, but there was a note from my Dad on the inside of my door. It said that he'd had to take Mum to the hospital and not to worry. He'd try to phone me around half six. When I opened my door I noticed bloodstains on the carpet, here and there, mostly between my parents room and the bathroom, but some leading down the stairs as well. There was some on the walls too. I tried not to think about it while I was having breakfast. I was alone in the house. I didn't even notice that Liam wasn't there. Usually my parents would be sleeping upstairs, but they weren't there.

I tried waiting for the phone to ring, but I couldn't settle so I decided to start washing some of the blood stains out the carpet. It wasn't completely dry yet, so it came off quite easily. It was all mucusy, as well. I thought - I don't know. I didn't know. Oh no. Please no.

When the phone rang, I stared at it for a second before I picked it up. It was my Dad. He sounded shaken. He wasn't feeling right. He asked me if I was okay and I said I was. It was surreal. He told me to get the bus to the hospital and bring some change so he could get back too. I asked him what happened, and he said he'd talk to me when I got there. I asked him if Mum was alright. He refused to answer the question. There were a couple of false starts but eventually he just repeated what he said before. I think I knew then. I think I knew. Something bad. Really really bad. NO!

I have an mp3 player now. I bought it a few days ago. It's got my music on it. It played The War Of The Worlds. I stayed in a trance. Everything was so surreal. Martians walking around the city streets, burning people with the heat ray. I wasn't even listening to what was playing. I just stared at the destruction outside the bus windows. Nobody inside made a sound. They just got on and got off wherever they needed to be, running along through the panicked crowds. Sometimes I felt my eyes water, but the tears never released.

By the time I got to the hospital, the Martians had all but disappeared. There was one near the horizon, walking away. And I met my Dad inside. He told me what happened.

I'll tell you later. I think I need to go now. It's not - It's - I can't deal with this. She's gone and I can't get her back. She's gone. No! I want my Mum. I want my Mum. I want my Mum. She can't be gone! I need her to be here. I can't hold on any longer. I have to go.

I don't like the sound of this.

A boy went missing today. Well, I say a boy. They showed a picture of him on the news. He's sixteen, but he looks more like a nineteen-year-old. I don't know him, but I think my Mum might. As soon as his name was mentioned she gasped. Dad was cooking dinner at the time, though, so I'm the only one who heard it.

They said he was last seen in the area where my Mum works, but when I asked her if she knew him she said no. The look on her face said differently, though. I don't know why she would be trying to hide this. Maybe she's trying to protect us. They said that if anyone sees him they should approach with caution (and let the police know, of course).

It's a shame, she was beginning to brighten up, despite her cough getting worse (it's definitely hit her chest now, and she's started coughing up small amounts of catarrh).

I've not told Dad about my hunch - if Mum really does know the boy, then I'm sure she's got a good reason for denying it. Pete agrees with me, Susan doesn't. She said "She's obviously keeping secrets from us, you should just go and get the truth and not back down until you've got it.". She's been a bit stroppy lately, ever since we fell out, and I think she's trying to make me ruin myself again. It's not going to happen. Any time we've fallen out it's always been the same. She goes in a huff, mostly disappears for a week or two, then starts coming back every few days, trying to force me into saying/doing things I would regret, and eventually she calms down and lets me get on with things again. It's annoying, to say the least, and I wish she would just grow up. She'll never grow up though. Even if she keeps on getting older, she'll still represent that part of myself, long ago, that I've grown to despise.

Anyway, goodnight everyone. I've got a write-up due for tomorrow, and I'm not even a third the way through it.

My Mum's Birthday: Over-indulging, over-shooting, now over a footstool.

I mentioned very late last night (or possibly mid-afternoon for you) on someone else's blog that I'd just got back from the hospital. And you may remember that I was going out for my Mum's birthday.

Well, we went to the buffet, and I ate loads (but not as much as I was expecting, stupid ice cream filling me up!), and my parents laughed at the rate I was devouring the food (two full plates in ten minutes, I'll admit it's not my record). After my third plate my Dad advised me to switch to desserts so I didn't get bored, and THAT ICECREAM! I WILL MURDER IT IF I EVER SEE IT AGAIN! RRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAA! (How is it that ice cream is only ever filling when there's free refills?)

Anyway, after dinner, we were walking back to the car when my Mum slipped on the stairs and landed awkwardly on her ankle. She couldn't put any weight on it without yelping so we had to carry her back to the car (luckily it wasn't far). Dad drove us to the E&A and we were waiting for over an hour to be seen. The Doctor looked at it, prodded it, and then took an x-ray of it. It wasn't broken, thank goodness, but she had done a bit of damage to the ligaments. The Doctor said to take the week off work, and if it was still very painful by Friday she should go to the GP. Meanwhile, she should give it as much rest as possible, try to keep it elevated [I had to stop myself giggling at the word "elevate"], "and if it swells up you should wrap it in a bag of frozen peas" (yes, those really were her exact words).

So we got back at an insanely late hour and I nearly slept in for the bus this morning. Needless to say I'm a little fatigued. My Mum's quite fatigued too, but then that cold she has seems to be moving towards her chest. At least she won't have to take time off seperately if it does move down.

I had a bit of a run after I got home today, since I missed it this morning. I found a tree with a low branch so I tried some of those - oh, what are they called? - things where you grab onto a bar and lift yourself up then drop down again. I was a bit rubbish, but I think it's just the thing to increase my upper-body strength. It was raining, but I don't mind the rain. I've got a good coat, and I love being outdoors. It's a shame we won't be going hillwalking this weekend, but I've heard it's supposed to snow on Friday, so maybe we wouldn't be going out anyway. It's weird, last week it was a heatwave in September, now it's snow in October. What is the climate coming to?

An Awful Lot of Running

In case you don't know the song, here's the official video:



I had to run for my bus this morning. Well, to be more precise, I had to sprint after it for over 300m until it stopped. Soon enough, that song was playing in my head. [It could have been worse, at least it's a decent song (which is now officially my favourite!).]

Since then, though, my metabolism has been acting weird. I could eat until my stomach hurts, and twenty minutes later I'll be starving again. It's like I'm just burning through the energy faster than I can take it in. I've been getting hunger pangs all day and I'm not as tired as I should be just now (it's after 9 o'clock and I got up at 5 this morning).

My mum's theory is that I burnt all my carbs (heehee, carb rhymes with Barb!) in a very short space of time, so now my body thinks I've got a very active lifestyle. I weighed myself earlier and I'd dropped two pounds. I don't know where they went! But anyway, my mum says it should slow down over the rest of the week, and if it's not gotten any better in a few days Dad can take me to the doctor's.

In other news, it's my Mum's birthday tomorrow. We're going to a chinese buffet, which I think is quite fortunate timing given my current situation. And what's more, I love chinese food. So instead of just one stomach-ful, I can have two! (or three, even, depending on how fast I eat in comparison to my parents)

It'll just be us three, though. My parents were both only children, and my granny (the only grandparent I have left) lives on the other side of the country. She's sent a card, though. We'll find out what's in it tomorrow.

There was something else ... oh yes! The song gave me an idea. Luckily I know how to stretch, so I'm not feeling too achy. Did I mention I used to be super-fit? I reckon on the days when I don't have an early morning class, I could get up at half-six and go for a run after "first breakfast" (yes, from now on I shall be a Hobbit). But I've also realised my upper-body strength isn't very impressive (I tried to climb a tree yesterday - that failed), so I figure if I get up at half-five, I could have a small breakfast, do some press-ups/sit-ups, then go for a run, and be back in time for a bigger breakfast around quarter-to-seven.

I reckon this change will be good for me. I'll be fitter, have better energy levels, and I'll get to live like a Hobbit (the only thing missing is a house in the ground and the occasional giant visitor). And then if I have to run for the bus again, I won't feel like I've just thrown up several times.

Finally, some free time!

I'll try to make this as short as I can. I'm a little busy at the moment. It'll probably be difficult, since a lot has happened since my last post.

When I last posted, I was looking forward to going out with my friends. Well, I'll be frank. I loved it. It was brilliant! The music was far too loud, and probably damaged my hearing permanently, but it felt almost like I was a part of it, you know? I don't know. It's getting pretty late again. I'm sorry if I go all hyper-crazy on you all again. I'll try to keep a lid on it.

It was me, A, B and C at the club. C's joined our group now. I don't see him as much as A sees him, or as much as I see A and B, but we often have lunch all together. I think I said before that he always wears the best t-shirts? He has so many, it's unbelievable. And they're always funny, or they make a reference to comic-book culture, and he's quite funny too. He likes Doctor Who almost as much as I do, so we're always talking about it (while A and B look on amusedly).

So anyway, this was an under-eighteens event for peeps in the alternative world. I really liked a lot of the songs that they played, and my friends suggested I look some of them up on youtube. Funny, I've never really used youtube for looking up songs before. But anyway, B decided to lend me "In Silico" by Pendulum. She said it's not one of her favourites, but I love it! It blends so many styles together so beautifully! It's like a piece of "classical" music! (B said the genre's called drum and bass, I don't really see why, but I'll try and look out for more stuff like that.)

And C lent me his Chameleon Circuit albums! I've not had a proper listen to them yet (I'll explain the business soon, don't worry!), but so far I love them too! I knew of their existence (I do like watching certain vloggers, even if I don't have an account to subscribe to them with), but my parents don't buy things online, even if they are the coolest things in existence.

I was pretty tired after all the dancing, but it took me a good two hours to get to sleep. I'd tried this energy drink called Relentless. At first I thought it was very sour, but then I got used to the taste and oh my gosh I'm getting cravings right now for that delicious drink. I slept in late on sunday. To tire me out, we decided to go hill-walking (all of us). Even Liam came along. (He got tired though, so then Pete came and carried him back home. Pete's sweet. And he can get to places quicker than anybody else, and he can walk for miles, even longer than I can, and that's saying something!) It was quite windy, and halfway up we saw a young but decrepit-looking ash tree that made sheep noises whenever it moved. Mum really liked the walk, so we're going out tomorrow as well.

But back to the club! (Not the future, as tempting as it may sound.) Afterwards my throat was pretty parched, and my hearing was kind of destroyed, so all of us sounded like we were on helium.

Oh, why I was busy! I had a test last week, and I had to finish an English essay to hand in, and I have three more next week. I think I've done enough studying though. I might have a look over my notes before I go in, just to refresh myself. It's weird, doing tests. You have to stay very quiet so you don't distract anyone, and when you're done you have to just sit still and doodle. I doodled a dragon eating a sandwich. And then I drew the same dragon making toast by holding the bread on a broadsword and blasting it with flame. Then I drew it clutching a burnt slice of toast looking very sad. I showed it to A and she laughed and said I really was crazy. She was joking, or at least poking fun rather than criticising me. Of course that wouldn't be a proper joke, because it's true, and if somebody is joking about something they are saying something that is obviously untrue. I think. My head's getting muddled.

I think that's everything I wanted to say. Oh, but I wanted to say sorry, you guys, for not being there when all that stuff was happening to you last week. Not that I think it would have made a huge difference to you, but I don't like that I wasn't there to be worried about my (friends?), to show that I care about you. I don't know. Maybe I'm just too sentimental, or paranoid, or delusional. I don't know. All I know is that I do care about the people I see out there, and I don't want any harm to come to any of you. But then again, I've been mistaken in the past. I used to hate everyone. I thought nobody was worthy of happiness or even the ability to breath. But now, I don't think I could hurt anyone. I care about everyone, and I understand where peoples misconceptions and fears stem from. Maybe I should write an essay about it. Maybe that would get it out of my system. Man, my head is buzzing with ideas and concepts. I think I'll stop now. I don't want to lose all my inhibition, like what happens when I'm tired.

Goodnight everyone. (I tried to fix my spelling mistakes while I was typing, but I'm sorry if any made it through. I can't be bothered going through the whole post.)