I'm sorry.

I could have been back sooner, I just ... Well, I suppose my head didn't feel quite right. I was tired out after all that work, and I was so relieved to have that weight off me, that for Thursday and Friday I didn't want to have to face all of this stuff. Selfish, I know. On Saturday, me and Dad went into the city centre to pick up some Christmas food and go ice-skating in the gardens. The streets were hung with twinkling lights and as I glided across the ice I felt a burning energy fill my being.

I think I was bordering on mania by yesterday morning.

But I've got a confession to make. I've not been doing okay. I've been trying to put on a brave face, but the truth is I'm more scared than I have ever been right now. The gaps in my memory are becoming more frequent, and I'm finding it harder to concentrate on my work.

At the weekend, I threw off all the weight that had been holding me down, and the high was intoxicating. However, that feeling only lasted until last night.

Last night, I was treated to another concert. This time it was Christmas themed. Lucky me, eh? He's clearly spoiling me. And he can't have had long to prepare, since it was to the tunes of all the carols we'd sung at the morning service.

I've been on edge all day. Susan says there's no reason to panic. On the other hand, what does reason have to do with any of this? You know you're crazy when your own alter-ego's the one telling you not to fall apart.

But yeah, I suppose I should try and stay together, if only for the sake of my family. My Dad's going to pick up my granny tomorrow. I suppose it'll brighten me up. My granny is brilliant. She might not know how to use the internet or what the difference between Freeview and Sky is, but she's got the long-term memory of an elephant and wit as sharp as Albitr (just to throw in another obscure/slightly nerdy reference - this one's from Inheritance).

The Nightmare Before Christmas was on yesterday. I couldn't watch it. As soon as I saw Jack, ... I just couldn't. It's been one of my favourite films for the past three years, but now, I don't think I'll ever be able to watch it again. There's too much fear inside me.
_

College is finished for the holidays now (apparently they decided to close a week early in case of snow), which means I have work to do before I go back. I'm going to try and get it done as soon as possible, just in case anything happens and I can't get it done later on.

I'm going into the city tomorrow to meet C. It's a long and complicated story, but I think I might be in love with him. And he seems to like me in the same way. We've been getting closer and closer - I feel like I could tell him almost anything. At the beginning, he could be a bit annoying; he would make jokes about things he didn't understand (in fact, that's how I ended up telling him about my hallucinations), but he's always willing to listen and learn, and we've become increasingly close over the past month or two.

But what do I do? I don't even know the normal rules, never mind for someone like me, never mind for someone like me who's being tormented by a malicious paranormal entity. Should I pretend I'm aromantic as well as asexual? Nah, that wouldn't work. If he told A or B that I'd said that, they would know I was lying. Should I just push him away? I don't want to hurt him, and I don't want to lose him.

I don't know. Should I just tell him about all this and let him make his own mind up? I've never told anyone about this, apart from you guys, and you already knew about Malinky. I've heard that he eventually targets those who know about him, and, well, my experiences show nothing that contradicts that.

Does anyone know what I should do?

It's cold outside...

But I know there must be some kind of atmosphere what with the wind and the clouds etc..

Sorry, my bad. I'm just trying to keep my spirits up. Most probably none of you get the reference anyway.

Well, I suppose I should start with what happened between Wednesday and Saturday. Here's a list of significant events:

• 
  

... Hence the lack of posting.

Yesterday decided to be different. The weather turned cold, and there was snow on the hills. No snow here, though. When I was coming back from the shops, for a split second I thought I saw Malinky following me, but then when I turned he wasn't there. I simply shivered and carried on.

After dinner, I got to my room and found Susan looking at Robin's mask. I asked her what she was doing, and she jumped. She looked sad, and then she said "I wish I could've met him."

"Robin?" I asked, slightly perplexed.

"Yeah." She paused and I sat down next to her. I held out my hand and she gave me the mask. All the memories came to the front of my mind, and I felt tears seeping into my eyes. "If you hadn't dug your heels in, it could have been us."

I looked at her. She had tears in her eyes as well.

"Yeah." I felt bad about the things I'd said to him. He didn't seem like a bad person, and yet I acted as if I hated him. "Why did he have to be so ... nice?" Susan gave me a weird look. "It would have been so much easier if he was a bad person."

"He wasn't so nice to you in the beginning."

I thought back. To when he'd tackled me, to when he'd pinned me down after I tried to run, to when he grabbed me in the street and gleefully told me his boss had given me two weeks. I remembered how big he seemed at the time, how frightened I was at the time. But it turned out he was the same age as me. I held back a bitter laugh as I realised what a hypocrite I'd been.

"Yeah, he was a little warped, but who are we to talk? I treated him like some weirdo, when he was just trying to be friendly." I shook my head and thought of the times I'd tried to push him away. It was only at the very end, when I thought I was about to die, that I'd let myself relax around him. "I should have gotten to know him better."

I started crying. Susan faded away. I could feel her sympathy, though, even though she said nothing.
_

This morning was another early start. There was snow on the ground, and the air was at that temperature where it completely sucks the heat out of anything that touches it for more than a few seconds. I wrapped up warm, but the wind decided to join in, so after just a few minutes I was already feeling pretty chilled.

When I was nearing the bus stop, I could see the commuters lined up against the wall, bored as usual. But someone else was there as well, standing right next to them. I was already cold, so the sight didn't perturb me. (It's hard to feel fear when you're already willing yourself forward against the freezing cold.) Heh, if it weren't for the time of year, he would have fitted right in, what with his business suit and all.

[The road was a mix of water and grit, but there was more than half an inch of snow on the pavement. Not much by our standards (and a piffling amount compared to last year) but I'm sure it would be enough to send London grinding to a halt, am I right?]

So, I carried on, crossing the road, and approached the bus stop as usual, though slightly wary of the tall dude. I stopped when I was next to him. I didn't want to look up and expose my neck to the wind, but I had no choice if I wanted an inkling of what he was thinking. He reached out his hand, and after a moment of thought I took it. He led me a little away from the commuters; farther down the street to a wider section of pavement. Snowflakes started to float down.

We stopped around the middle of that wider space. When he spoke, it took me completely by surprise. At first I didn't understand what he said. It was quiet, but piercing - sort of electronic and bleepy, like a corrupted audio file.

"What?"

He spoke again, this time more clearly.

"who. are. you."

It still sounded slightly electronic, but it was no longer crackly and there were much fewer random bleeps. The intonation was weird, though. The word "are" was much higher than the other words, and his pitch seemed to wobble slightly on "you". I didn't know how to answer his question, so I stood there staring back at him, shivering with the wind. After a while, he put his hands behind my head and gripped my skull. Warmness started to seep through my body, and suddenly I felt very very scared.

A series of images flashed through my mind. These were my own memories, and it was as if I was reliving them. He showed me all the bad things I'd done, the things I'm ashamed of, the times I'd been tortured, and when I'd been selfish despite instinct.

My awareness returned and the hands lifted slightly. I looked up at him, but his not-a-face didn't betray any intention or emotion.

"N-no, that's not who I am." I stammered. He tilted his head to the right, then the hands returned and more images flashed through my brain. This time, he showed me all my acts of selflessness, of mercy, of helping other despite inconvenience or sacrifice.

Again, my vision returned and the hands lifted. His head was still tilted, and he stayed motionless.

"But that's not me either."

His head returned to normal position, and his hands touched my head for the last time. Memories flooded through me, both good and bad, some neutral, and within it were summed up the most important aspects of my growth.

"Yes, that's it."

He took his hands away from me, returning them to his sides.

"no."

I was confused, but at that moment the bus rounded the corner, and I glanced at the sudden noise and light. When I looked back, the Slender Man had gone, and I walked back to the bus stop feeling cold once more, and very bewildered.
_

I've felt weird all day. And, yeah, I fell asleep on the bus again. I saw Pete in Maths - that hasn't happened for a while now. I told him what happened and he looked a mix of concerned and awestruck.

It's very, ... I suppose, mind-opening(?) to see your life so far, and to see how it's changed who you are. I think I'll have to reflect more on this, but also, what was he doing and why? I don't see why he'd want to "know me" like that, or why he'd want me to know who I am. Is this the thing that Robin was talking about, or was it something completely different?

Edit: And oh, yeah, 50th post. My blog now feels half a century old. And honestly, I come back from a few days of no internet to find I now have over ten followers? Well, welcome to the both of you. I don't know why on earth you'd want to read this thing, but I suppose that's none of my business.

Ah, finally the wind's died down.

Hopefully the internet will stay up long enough for me to make a whole post, instead of just short replies.

I refused to go to college today. Well, I was actually all for going, but my Dad convinced me not too. As you can probably already tell, the weather's not been that great. And bussing it into the city in an 80 mph gale is something I'm sure most people would want to avoid. I'm glad I won't have to go in tomorrow.

No internet's a drag, but what can be done? A couple of times there was the threat of a powercut. Thankfully, the power's stayed on. It's bloody freezing out there.

Me and Dad spent most of the day playing board games and watching the telly. After lunch, he decided to make scones. I tried to help, but I'm not so good at baking. He says all I need is a bit of practice, but I'm sure I'll never be able to cook anything more complicated than basic shortbread.

But now for the more troubling side of things. I have reason to believe Susan knows something I don't. It's not anything definite, so even if I confronted her she could deny it and I still wouldn't be any surer either way. It's the little comments; sometimes she says something with a little more certainty than she should, and almost seems surprised when I'm unsure in my reply.

Robin was mentioned in the news again today, just briefly. There was more information about the body, allegedly found with a broken neck, two black eyes, and multiple stab wounds to the chest. The police are asking for witnesses who might have seen any suspicious activity near the river up to three days before the body was found.

I only had one dream last night. That's unusual in itself. These days it's almost always two or three - or none at all. And the blue roses obscured almost everything now. They'd even started appearing on people's clothing. But last night's dream was set in my room. I don't remember waking up before the dream started, and I don't remember falling asleep afterwards. That's the only real evidence I have that it actually was a dream. No blue roses, no fantasy characters, just an overpowering sense of awareness and ... wrongness.

I felt very awake. I didn't know if I'd been half-asleep for a while or if I'd woken up and forgotten about it. It was very dark, but the street light made it's way through my curtain, giving me just enough brownish glow to make out the shapes of the objects surrounding me. I could hear the storm outside, tearing the last of the leaves from the trees, trying to pull the aerial out of the roof. I couldn't catch hold of my thoughts. Either they were moving too fast or my brain was too sluggish to snatch them.

I became aware of a low humming that seemed to come from the window. I looked up and I saw the shadows of the trees convulsing against the force of the wind. There was nothing unusual so I sank back down. The air was pretty cold.

The humming was quiet, and easily drowned out by the rush of the wind and the drumming of the rain, but I could sometimes make out parts of a tune, though not enough to recognise what it was. The humming stopped and I heard a giggle. Fear enveloped me. The voice outside started to sing.

It sang of blood and organs, exploding heads and ripped-out limbs. All to the tune of a children's nursery rhyme. I turned towards the wall, curled under my blankets. The song never lost any volume, despite my desperate attempts to block it out. In the end I lay there cowering, waiting for it to stop.

The song ended. There was a pause. I felt something slide across the material on top of my shoulders. Something long and dark entered my peripherals. The tentacle brushed my face as it curled round the duvet and peeled it back. I lay motionless, hardly breathing, staring at the place where my cover had been just a second ago. The tentacle came back. It gripped my middle and rolled me over. I had no choice, I didn't fight it.

I was on my back now, staring up at him, trying to keep my mind under control. He giggled again and started to sing another song, this one just a few lines. On the last line, he started to lean toward me, closer and closer, until his head was only a foot above mine. He stared right at me, finishing the song with a whisper, and I stared at him.

Then my alarm went off. I woke up with my covers arranged much the same as when I went to bed. My heart was beating fast and loud, as I rushed to quiet the sudden noise.

I'm not sure if I'll be able to sleep tonight. But I'm feeling tired, so I might as well try. At least I don't have college tomorrow.

Goodnight, all.

Trying to stay sane

isn't easy, especially when the things you're seeing could well be real.

I was pretty tired in Chemistry today. Heh. I'm always tired these days. And I've always been tired during Chemistry. It's at the end of the day on a Friday, and I find it hard not to fall asleep on the best of days.

It was coming up for the time we usually have our ten-minute break (which generally coincides with when they test the fire alarm) and the lecturer had given us some examples to do. I was pretty much hunched over my book, when I felt a pricking all over my back. I glanced round and saw him standing over me.

I yelped and everyone looked up.

"Barb, are you okay?" Asked the lecturer from the front of the class. I took a quick glance to see what his expression was like and looked back. There was nothing there. Startled, I turned round again.

"Um, yeah, I'm fine. Just gave myself a fright. It was just something silly."

He made a sound of dismissal, and people went back to their work. B looked at me, puzzled. I gave a quick nod to let her know she could ask me about it during the break.

On our walk to the water dispenser, she asked me if I'd seen something. I said yes and that I didn't really want to go into it. She respected that and didn't push it any further.

Gosh, I'm getting good at concealing things from people, amn't I? Who is this person I'm becoming? Oh, I know the changes so far have been perfectly reasonable responses to my current situation, but who will I be in a year's time? Five years' time? If I even live that long. Ha.

Susan decided to break her silence today, so that's something back to normal. She even apologised for her behaviour and asked if could still be friends. Typical suck-up behaviour. But I thought, how can I forgive others if I can't even forgive my(other)self? So I forgave her and now she's back in her old spot, looking over my mind from her seat at the back.

Well, at least some things never change. Gives me hope that one day the rest of me will be back to normal. See ya's!

So tired.

Thanks for all your words of encouragement. They're one of the main things that make me feel I can keep going.

The last couple of days have been exhausting. I've only been a little busier than usual, but the effort seems to be taking a much greater toll on me than it used to. My college friends have started noticing. And they thought I was tired at the start of the course. Heh. What beatiful and stress-free days those were. Before my life became interfered with.

Even the depths of my mind feel strange to me. Susan has been quiet, I'm not sure how long. It's unusual for her to stay silent for even a week, and even then I can still feel her presence. Not now. Either she's learned some secret ninja art of concealment or she's completely disappeared. Pete hasn't been around as often as he used to, and when he is I can tell he does nothing but worry about me. Liam is the same as ever. Constantly there, acting oblivious to anything that doesn't involve him.

And to add icing to my cherry, or some other baking-related analogy, I've started hearing whispers when I'm alone or just not talking to people. The whispers themselves are quiet and indistinct, but the number of voices speaking at once means it's hard to keep my thoughts linear.

I haven't seen Skinny Malinky since Saturday, thank goodness, but I've got a feeling he's not far away. Whatever happened on Saturday (though I've been trying not to think about what that might be), I don't think he'd let me go so easily. Heh. I don't even know what he wants, for crying out loud. He might just be playing with me, and fully intends to kill me when he eventually gets bored.

My dreams have changed. They're much shorter than they used to be, and sometimes there are a few in one night. The subject matter hasn't changed. The blue roses are still there, they've grown over almost everything now, and most of the time I'm not sure what world I'm looking at.

My bones ache and my muscles are stiff. I sometimes get shivers for no reason. (I wonder if I'm coming down with something.) And then, there's the constant feeling of eyes staring into my back. I'm not sure if it's paranoia or something else. To be honest, though, I don't think it would change much either way. It could be that it's just a delusion, but I'm being watched regardless. Who could tell?
_

It's my birthday tomorrow. I spotted what looked like a cake in the fridge. Dad must have baked it while I was out today. I remember him baking when I was young - it was delicious - but he hasn't made anything in years. He looks tired too, but he seems happy enough. I'm glad he doesn't see what I feel on the inside. It would be complicated to lie or explain and I don't want him to feel bad about something that neither of us can do a thing to change.

I've decided what universities I'm applying for. For security reasons I'm not going to say which ones, but I'm applying for Physics-based subjects in all of them. Now all I have to do is fill out the rest of the form (I don't know what I should say about my "mental illness", since it usually doesn't impact much on my ability to work) and write that blasted personal statement. ("Yes, the reasons I would be absolutely brilliant at studying Physics at an academic level are ...") It'll be tough since I don't have much of a history of getting involved with groups of people, and most of the suggestions for showing off your strengths are based around the extra-curricular activities you took part in. I suppose I could focus mostly on what coming to college has given/taught me.

Heh. If only I could use what I talk about on here as examples of perseverence, people skills, and experience of working under pressure.

And sorry I haven't been as active as usual on here. Between extra amounts of sleep and homework I haven't had much free time on my hands. I'll try to reply to everyone as soon as I can.

Back again so soon?

-I'm really sorry I couldn't post sooner. I've been waiting all day for even a hint of a connection. But hey, why should the internet work when all I need to do is reassure my friends I'm still alive!?-

My memory of yesterday is very vivid, but it feels strange recalling it, like it happened in a dream or a film or something. It's possibly my mind's attempt to soften the blow of what happened.

My Dad was at work by the time I left, so I wrote him a note. Brainy Smurf wouldn't shut up. He kept telling me not to go, that I would only get into trouble if I left the house. Bless him, he actually seemed concerned about me. I ignored him mostly, and he followed me right up until I walked out the front door. I wasn't sure where I would go. I just couldn't sit around any longer twiddling my thumbs, waiting to see if any monsters would ring the doorbell.

Half of me was scared, half felt depressed. As far as I knew, I was going to face my death. At the end of the lane, I met Robin. He wasn't wearing his mask.

"Hey Batgirl." He said.

"Hey." I said.

"He's this way." He motioned over his shoulder with his thumb. We stood for a second. He looked a cross between excited and tense. I noticed his figure seemed coiled, like a spring.

"I won't run." He nodded and relaxed, but only slightly.

"You coming?"

We walked for a while. We talked too. He told me it wasn't too late to change my mind. I told him I'd made my decision and I wasn't going to back down. He looked sad. We talked about other things, the weather, college, what his life had been like before he met Malinky, and Doctor Who, among other things. At one point I asked where we were going. He asked me where I'd first seen his boss. It was a rhetorical question, so I didn't reply.

When we got the river, I stopped. I tried to push myself forwards, but every single part of me was telling me to run. Robin noticed I'd stopped and he turned round. Then he took my hand.

"It's okay to be scared. But don't worry, I'll be with you. I won't let him hurt you."

I was convinced those words were complete rubbish, but he seemed genuine, and it felt comforting to know someone would be with me who didn't wish me harm.

We walked.

As we turned the corner in the path, I saw him. He was standing in the trees, just like the first time, only this time he was facing me, and he seemed taller than ever. I jumped when I saw him, and I think I even squeaked.

I took a step back, and suddenly my elbows were pulled behind me. I heard Robin whisper in my ear.

"Sorry, it's for your own good."

The Slender Man strode towards the path. The motion was more solid than when we were in the park behind the college. Robin pushed me forwards while still maintaining his lock. I tried resisting but he was far too strong for me. My eyes were glued to that ... face. That non-face. It seemed to swallow everything I was and left me with nothing but fear.

He stopped walking, and Robin stopped pushing. For a moment, everything was still. His head - he looked like he was regarding me. It slowly tilted to one side and I could almost hear - something. It was barely audible at all. I'm not even sure if it was high or low. It sounded like ... silence.  But a different kind of silence.

Behind me, Robin spoke.

"Really?" His boss didn't move. I was practically paralysed with fright. I could feel Robin's breath on my back. He laughed and released my arms. I saw him move towards his boss. The tall one's arms moved out as if to welcome him. Robin turned.

"Wait till you see." I could see the glee on his face. "This is what he did when I met him all those months ago. He says he'll give it to you as well."

He turned back towards his master and moved closer. The faceless turned his face to the boy beneath him, placed his arms on his shoulders. I cringed as two long tentacles emerged from the back of his suit and wrapped themselves around the boy. His hands moved up to the boys face, first one then the other, holding his head the way a loving but dignified parent would reassure a child. More tentacles appeared, caressing him, holding him, stroking him.

I could see the admiration on Robin's face as he looked up at his master. He looked so happy, at peace with himself. Then,

-crack-

his body went limp. The tentacles unwrapped and he slumped over to the ground. And then, that giggle. Again. I felt my strength drain. I was drenched with fear. Then he looked at me. No eyes. No expression. No clue to see what he was thinking. I stumbled backwards until I hit a tree. He loomed over me, and I knew I was too weak to fight, even to run.

And I can't remember what happened next.

My memory is completely blank. The next thing I remember is standing at the end of my street, wondering how I got there. It was already dark. I looked at my watch. I'd left before one o'clock. It was quarter-past five. Some people's curtains were still open, so I knew it was evening rather than morning. I hoped Dad was home. I'd left my keys at home as a security precaution (not that I think he'd need keys to get into my house, but, you know, just in case).

I tried the door when I got to my house. I'd left the door on the latch, so I wasn't surprised when the door gave a little as I turned the handle. I was still locked out, but I could see a light on, so I rang the door bell. I felt so relieved when my Dad answered. I couldn't show it, though, so I pretended to be cold. It felt good to be back in my home, but in that moment, I wished I had my Mum. No matter how crazy the things in my life (or my head) were, she would always listen with a sympathetic nod and an empathetic hug. A while ago, I thought I didn't need it any more. College was fine, I had friends, and she needed her own space. Now, I need her more than ever, and I can't reach her.

As soon as I got to my room, I was faced with every single one of my recurring hallucinations, each with their own set of questions. In the end, I broke down and cried. Most of them got annoyed and went away, and only a few of my closest "friends" were with me. They managed to give me a bit of comfort, but I really don't know what to do.

I don't know what I did yesterday afternoon, in the period I can't remember. Part of me is questioning whether yesterday happened at all.

My dream last night was more or less a nightmare. Robin's body was there, the roses growing through him, holding him, hung like a marionette. His voice,

"Save your strength. Drink deep and long. Feel the love. The love is strong." over and over.

I could see the roses growing. They wrapped themselves around his limbs, they pierced his flesh. His body disintegrated as the flowers grew higher and wider.

"Don't try to save yourself. The only way is down."
_

I should really go to bed now. I'll stay up a little longer though. To be honest, I'm not even sure if I'll be able to sleep tonight. If I can't, well, at least I'll be able to get some college work done. I've got an essay to hand in for tuesday and it's not quite finished yet.

Goodbye for now. I might see you later.

Hello again.

My time of freedom is coming to a close. Booey. I wish I could just sit here forever, pretending like the gale is just on the outside, not also on the inside of my cranium. But no. So many things trying to attract my attention. Screaming at me, even. I'd like to say that my dreams are an escape, but they're really not.

Anyway. I met Rabbie again today. He sat next to me this time. I felt like punching him again, so instead I decided to grill him for all I was worth. I won't go into detail about our conversation, but he did indeed know my mother. See, apparantly, she was his psychiatrist before he was referred to Psychology. And he assures me he isn't crazy and never has been. I suppose. What were his friends and family supposed to think?

A while ago, past-Barb asked me some questions. I'll try to answer them as best I can with the knowledge I have just now:

• How did my mother discover Mr. Tall?

In quite a dignified affair, Rabbie, after he started seeing skinny Malinky long-legs following him, went to see his G.P. about it and was referred to my Mum's department. My Mum prescribed him some medication, but after his stalking intensified she referred him to Psychology. She still had contact with him, but it was limited to a four-weekly "would this patient benefit from any medication" review.

• Was she being followed?

She wasn't being followed as such. At least not early on. Rabbie said he gathered she was being watched around a week before his extraction. And then by the next morning she was dead.

• Was her death natural causes, or was she murdered?

I don't know. I'll probably never know. Rabbie said he was informed of her death as soon as he woke up that morning, so before I made my post. I can't help but think there must have been some foul play.

• Why would she draw an operator symbol at the back of her diary?

It was Rab who drew the picture. He didn't draw the operator symbol, so that must have been my Mum. He said he drew it other places though, before he knew exactly what it was (he wouldn't tell me). My only guess is that my Mum found out a little more about what was stalking him and was trying to protect herself. This fits with her suddenly becoming scared of the woods, but it's strange I haven't found anything else. I could be completely wrong though.

• Am I being watched?

My blog was being followed almost from the beginning. Allegedly, one of the biggest tasks Malinky's minions face is trying to keep up with all the blogs/vlogs etc. and trying to link them to physical people after they work out what's real and what's just fantasy. Rabbie said my blog was one of the first things he was shown on his first night-trip (he was an in-patient at that point - apparently hospital security isn't the best). He told me they'd been narrowing it down, trying to pin-point who I was. Apparently hiding my location/identity was one of my better decisions. The post about Rabbie's disappearance was the piece that made them sure it was me who was posting.

• Has he been watching me ever since I was a child?

From what I gathered, he's been keeping tabs on me, checking up on me every-so-often when there wasn't anything more immediate to care about. Apparently he watches everyone who's ever seen him, just in case. I guess it paid off with me. Either I become useful to him, or I turn against him. If I were him, I could see how it would be useful to know where (and what) I am.

• Is it all my fault?

I honestly don't have an answer for this. I don't know if all of it was my fault, if none of it was my fault, if some of it was, and if so, what was. That's one of the main things I've been thinking about, actually. In this situation, I suppose in every situation really, I can't hope to know what my decisions will bring. I guess all I can do is try and do what's right and hope it all works out.


In the past, I've found the phrase "What would Jesus do?" useful for problems of conscience. Thing is, I've no idea what Jesus would do here. The only thing I can compare it with is the temptation in the desert, but He already knew what His purpose was, and He was being tempted to turn away from God's plan. I don't know what God's plan is. I don't know what my purpose in life is. Human morals give me no direction because they seem to contort and explode at places like this. Everybody's saying "do what's best for you". I don't want to do what's best for me. I want to do what's right. I wish I were more spiritual. Then I could pray for guidance. But I don't really know how to pray. I've tried it once or twice, but usually the voices start jeering at me. The only way I can block it out is to focus on other people and pray for them instead. I feel awful having to ask this. Could somebody pray for me? I've seen it do so many wonderful things for the people at church.
_

I almost forgot. I should probably let you all know, even though I don't know if I'll still be here, I'll be turning seventeen on wednesday. I'm not sure if Dad's planned anything, so I might not be able to post regardless of whether I'm alive or not. Wow. I never thought I'd ever be saying a sentence like that (again).

I realise I've not said much about other areas of my life recently. I suppose I've been preoccupied. I now love Coldplay (C's doing, I wasn't too keen at first but I warmed to them), my coursework is progressing well, and I still need to work out what courses I want to apply for next year. I've got until January, but a lot of them are first-come first-served. Maybe I could just pick some out of a hat.

Pete's been acting a little odd. He was very worried, but then all of a sudden he brightened up, and he's been in a cheery mood ever since. And he's not usually cheery either. Susan just keeps getting in a bigger huff with me, and has now resorted to the silent treatment. Liam is just as oblivious as ever, which is probably the most helpful out of the lot of them.

Anyway, I have to go now, bed time and all that. Goodnight.

Fatigue

So, things are pretty quiet here. But then again, "quiet" doesn't necessarily mean safety. I'm ashamed to say the stress has been getting to me, despite the support I've been getting from you guys, from Pete and Liam (and others who I don't have permission to mention), and from my friends at college.

I've been slipping behind in my college work. Not by much, but I'm not as on top of things as I used to be. I used to be able to get my homework done in about fifteen minutes each night, and then I could blog or play flash games or draw or do whatever I wanted. Now I'm even having to finish it on the bus, which isn't easy when all your body wants to do is sleep. I'm having to get up earlier now that the cold's setting in for real. Which of course makes me even slower in the mornings so I have to keep waking up ten minutes earlier every few days.

Acht. Enough complaining. It won't help. So, what else is happening? Dad's getting concerned about me. He hasn't said much, but I can see it on his face. I came in this evening and the first thing he said was "How about a holiday?". Rapid discussion ensued, and now he's dragging me up north for the weekend. He's booked it already. He's sure the trees will help me relax. I don't know about that (*rolls eyes*), but I suppose, the scenery up there is very beautiful, so I may as well take any chance I can get to unwind. It means I'll have to get most of my work done before we leave, and I won't be able to post again until we're back, but I think I can manage. I've got something to look forward to now. Something to work towards. Something that doesn't involve writing a probably futile personal statement.

Oh, sorry, I started complaining again, didn't I? Ah well, at least the only person I'm hurting with it is myself. I've got to decide which universities I'm going to apply for, what courses I want to study, and write a personal statement showing (not telling) that I would make a good student. I don't know about the rest of you, but I generally don't go around boasting about how great a person I am, and neither does anyone I know. I'll figure it out eventually, but the college puts deadlines on things and I really don't want to muck up their system.

On the domestic front, Dad's looking for a job, but he's not worked a day in the past fifteen years so employers are reluctant to hire him. (at least, that's what they say their reason is, I wouldn't put it past them to discriminate on age grounds) I'll go visit my boss tomorrow and see if he's got any spots open. I heard one of the girls left last week (under dubious circumstances, which is probably why people were talking about it), but there hasn't been any notices up, so it might have been filled already. I'm not sure I'll be completely comfortable having my Dad working at the same place as me, but if it needs to be done it needs to be done.

Back to the stress, since Sunday I've had this strange feeling of being watched. It's probably just paranoia on my part, but it's impossible to know. There was fog today, though. (still is, actually) It came in around lunch time, but it didn't come from the sea like usual. It came down from the direction of the hills, thick, choking, swirling. The bus nearly had an accident on the way home. It's mostly cleared now, but it's definitely still out there, and it's eerie.

My dreams are back to normal, but the presence of the blue roses is growing. Every night, there seems to be more of them; growing along walls, sitting daintily on tables, embroidered into the carpet - everywhere. I looked them up to see if I could get any hints as to what it might mean, but most of the answers I got were either too vague, too specific, or contradicted each other. The only consensus I got from all of them is that they represent something fantastic or impossible. Apparently they used to represent the feelings of love at first sight or attaining the impossible to the Victorians.

I don't know. I suppose it will be revealed in time, especially if they keep growing at this rate. (you know, it reminds me of the red weed) It would be nice to know, though, if they're a good or bad omen.

Anyway, I think that's enough for tonight. I'm going to try and not stay up late anymore. Goodness knows I need my sleep.

Still here, losing it a little

Getting up for college today was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. And that includes all the interviews I've ever been to (all four of them *sighs*).
Bear in mind that last night's incident happened around sunset and the sun wasn't even close to rising when I woke up this morning. Add a late and restless night on top of that and you probably have a small idea about how I felt this morning.

Pete was around - evidently he'd been with me all night. He asked me if I was sure I wanted to go, but I told him I had to. I can't let this stop me from living my life. I've had too many setbacks as it is. I was just beginning to feel like I'm succeeding, like some day I can find my place and become a contributive member of society. Even you lot reading this have seen how far I've come since August. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to go back to how I was before Susan split off.

The walk (or rather, run) to the bus stop was nerve-wracking. Where I live, I have to walk along a wooded lane to get to the main road. The sky was beginning to lighten, which gave me just a little reassurance. Once I was on the main road, I felt a little better. Not another soul was in sight, but the sound of birdsong pierced the air and I felt relieved.

Once me and Pete were nearer the town centre than my house, we stopped running. We could hear the sound of lonely cars groaning along the High Street, and I felt safer. There were the usual morning commuters at the bus stop, exhaustion carved into their faces, boredom distorting their postures.
 _

Pete stayed with me the whole day. Even on the buses. He took the window seat (he gets travel sick easily) which meant I could concentrate what was on the inside of the bus rather than the outside. I think that helped, along with the isolating power of my mp3 player.

Unfortunately, my friends noticed I was being quieter than usual. They asked what was bugging me so I just said I was tired. (And I wasn't lying. >_<) I forced myself to brighten up. I can't let them know anything's wrong. I'll never forgive myself if anything happens to them because of me.

I almost considered letting them know Pete was with me, since they seem to like him, but he'd told me earlier he wanted to stay under the radar and focus on making sure I was alright. I honestly don't know what I'd do without him.
_

Susan officially hates me. She hates me for turning down that offer last night, for running from the people that could make her dreams come true, and for not caring about anything she wants. If it was so important to her, why didn't she come out last night while it was actually happening instead of just complaining about my decision after I got home? I honestly don't understand her motives one bit.

Talking of when I got home, Dad noticed something was wrong. Fair enough, I wasn't really capable of hiding it at that point. I must have looked a wreck when I got through the door. I couldn't finish my dinner, and there was around five minutes between each bite. All I could think about was how scared and helpless I felt, how I have no idea what would have happened to me if I didn't manage to get away, how he seemed to be waiting for me when I saw him from the bus.

He told me I didn't look very well. I told him I thought I was coming down with something. I had to write him a note before I left this morning, saying I felt well enough for college. He phoned me when I was on the bus as well. I had to pretend to sound happy.

Honestly, I've been using the "tired" excuse all day. Friends, lecturers, even Dad. The journey home was gruelling. I hadn't seen a hint of Slender all day, but I caught a glimpse of his blue-robed companion when I was on the bus back. I was stopped at a red light, when Pete gasped. I looked down, and there he was, just leaning against the wall, right under the window, looking up. He smiled at me and saluted, then the bus pulled away.

I didn't see him again, but that one glimpse was enough. It was another hour until I got home. When Dad saw me, he said I shouldn't have gone. I told him I felt better than I had last night. He nodded but said he didn't want me to get any worse. I told him I wasn't going to take a day off unless I had to. He sighed and just said "see you?" then gave me a hug.
_

Overall, I am feeling better than I was last night, but I'm only just managing to keep myself together. Arguing with Susan makes me angry and tires me out, time alone makes me dwell on bad prosepects, and I miss my Mum more than ever.

I used to be able to talk to her about whatever I was worried about, whatever was going through my head, and she'd be able to make me feel better about it. Pete's been so supportive. I don't think I'll ever be able to thank him enough. Liam is a comforting presence, but he doesn't understand what's wrong. How could he? He's a badger. A small, cuddly badger. I haven't been cuddling him enough. I think that's why he looks so confused. I should cuddle him more.
_

I had a very vivid dream last night. I was in a forest, sitting in a tree, high above the ground. There were some badgers below, some of them running about, tackling each other, others just plodded along, snuffling the ground. (None of them were Liam, but that's not important.) It was autumn. The trees were almost bare, and a carpet of orange coated the ground. The sun was approaching the west, and it cast a golden light on the scene. I looked to my left and my mother was sitting next to me. She was smiling at the badgers.

I asked her "Why are you here?"
She just looked at me and smiled.
I couldn't smile back. I looked down at the badgers. They started moving away, towards the setting sun.

"You know I'm proud of you?" she said.
I nodded. "I miss you."
"I know." She looked down again.

The branch seemed to slide down the tree, until we were only a few feet up. My Mum slipped off and I followed. We walked for a while together.

"Barb?" she said.
"Yeah?"
"I didn't want to go."
"I know."
"It's just ..." Her gaze suddenly shifted to something behind me and her eyes widened. "Run!"

She pushed me and I ran. I looked back. My Mum was standing with her back to me, looking into a black, cloudy portal the width and height of two men.

"Mum!" I yelled.

She didn't respond.

I watched as thin black tendrils wrapped themselves round the side of the portal. My Mum turned round.

"I said run, Barbara!" she shouted.

I ran. I don't know what happened to her, but soon enough the blackness started appearing in my peripherals, wrapping itself around my plane of vision. I looked over my shoulder and everything was black. I tried to outrun the blackness, its convulsing tendrils racing with me. Eventually it overtook me and I fell away from the ground, flailing helplessly. My fall was broken when I became caught within more thin, black tangles. I initially thought the were the same tendrils as before, but these were tangible, strong, they held me in place when i tried to struggle. I let my body relax and I looked around.

Blue roses. Above, beside, below me. Their stems thin and gently curved, leaves as black as the void.
_

I'm sorry for the length and the disjointedness of this post. There was so much I wanted to say, and I can't think straight at the moment. I can only apologise. Maybe I could go through it later and make it flow better, when I can think straight.

Breathe, Barb

Okay. To borrow a phrase, "doodoo" just got real.

I saw him. And he saw me. And, well, I should probably start at the beginning.

Tuesday, 1st of November, 2011. The day after Halloween. My only class today was English. It just so happens to be right at the end of the day though, so although I don't have to get the bus until around 11am, I don't leave college until half four. It was almost sunset by the time I got outside.

Most of the day went without a hitch. I met my friends for lunch, and in class we made an "academic poster" for Cuckoo's Nest, which was slightly stressful but fun. At the start of the class, our lecturer informed us that the next test is going to be at [redacted]. I haven't been there before, but B was at college last year and C's already had a test there, so they both know where it is already.

This is taking too long.

Long story short, I found out roughly where it was and went to find it myself after college. I was walking along, through an area of posh-looking flats, noticed someone behind me, found the place, turned back but walked through the park this time.

Now I'll tell you what happened.

It was nearly dark. The orange hues of sunset were turning to the purple hues of twilight. When I'd seen the figure behind me, my paranoia had almost kicked in, but I stuffed it down before it had a chance to panic. After all, why shouldn't someone else be doing the same thing I am? 

I decided to walk back through the park (big, wide, open, gently undulating - land that had once been a barren waste of crushed bricks and metal but now had trees and grass and water) to calm myself. For some reason atmosphere and landscape seems to affect my mood.

As I walked, I couldn't see another soul. This was comforting until I realised I couldn't see the ducks or the swans. I thought it was strange, but I kept walking. "I shouldn't worry. There's usually a logical reason for anything, even if we can't explain it."

I was wrong.

It was when I was near the centre of the park - no trees nearby, and the water was at least five jumps away - that in the three or four of seconds my head was turned to the right, someone had appeared at my left.

Needless to say, when I turned my head I nearly jumped out my skin. I screamed at him. The guy laughed. He was around four inches taller than me. He had a blue hoodie, with the hood up, and a mask across his eyes. His trousers were black. I couldn't see his hair and the mask had some sort of fabric obscuring his eyes. Now that I think about it, the mask was made up of multicoloured sequins and was the shape of bat wings.

I asked "Who are you?" (with emphasis on "you"), well, I think I yelled it.

He laughed again. I bolted. After ten metres, I felt him against my shins and he brought me down from behind. I rolled to the side and tried to kick him off, yelling "No! Get off!". He laughed and I tried to kick him in the mouth, but missed.

He let go but I only had time to flip back onto my front before he pounced on me and pinned me down. I tried struggling but it didn't work.

"Are you going to join us, Barbara?" He said quietly in my ear. His voice was clear and soft, but I could hear mirth breaking through, disrupting its natural smoothness.

My heart dropped and I looked up. There he was, less than two metres away - tall, slim, sharp-dressed man with no face, staring down at me. His arms were open as if inviting an embrace. He seemed to emanate calmness. He tilted his head slightly to one side, as if he was waiting for me to come to him.

His very presence seemed to fill the atmosphere with calm, but all I felt inside was fear, washing over me, filling my body with panic. I bucked and managed to throw the guy off my back. I scrambled up and ran.

It couldn't be real. It had to be a hallucination or a nightmare, I thought as I sprinted. Well, actually, that was what my subconscious brain thought. The only thing my conscious brain told me was "GET OUT!".

I could hear the thud of steps behind me. It had only been a few seconds, though, when suddenly I tripped, and once again I was pinned down, this time on my front.

"Did you think you'd got away?"

Movement caught my eye, and I saw a long black tentacle retreating across the grass to its owner. Then I heard the most unnerving sound I've ever heard in my whole life. It giggled. It actually giggled. Though the noise seemed to come from inside my own head, like I was hearing it through earphones. It was like a child's giggle, so high-pitched, and with an almost gurgling quality.

Slowly, he moved towards me. It was so smooth. His legs were moving as though he were walking, but his torso seemed to glide gently forwards. I can't remember his feet. Does he have feet?

I could only stare as the distance closed. The boy glanced over his shoulder, then pulled me up, keeping hold of my elbow. I saw my opportunity and punched him in the arm.

"Ah, ya f***er!" he yelled as I sprinted away. I couldn't hear him running after me, but I wanted to get as far away as possible. I spotted a way out the park and I ran until I reached the main road, paused to check which way to go next, and ran to the nearest bus stop. There were people there, thank goodness. I don't think I've ever been so glad to be in the company of strangers, even if they looked at me weirdly.

It was only five minutes until my bus came, but it felt like half an hour. I kept looking back the way I came, just to reassure myself I hadn't been followed. It was a relief to get on the bus. Climbing the stairs was difficult, but I got up there in the end and collapsed into a seat as the bus pulled away.

My heart was still racing, and my limbs were shaking slightly, but the coarse rumbling of the engine felt almost soothing. Darkness was closing in around the bus, isolating it from the bustling world outside.

But I happened to look out of the window just as we passed my college, and I saw a too-tall figure with dark clothing and no discernible features standing near the entrance. Standing. Watching. Waiting.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

Just a little update,

which was supposed to be written last night, but the internet decided to fail again. It seems to happen mostly when the wind picks up, and there's been a lot of wind recently.

But anyway, after a bit of nagging and emotional bribery (not blackmail this time - I'm getting better), my parents have allowed me to go clubbing on saturday - yippee! My Dad's going to give me a lift into town and get some shopping once I've met my friends. I'll have to watch Doctor Who on i-player. We would record it, but the recorder's been acting weird ever since the switch-over, and we're not buying a new one because my parents prefer to save as much money as possible. (Honestly, are they expecting a meteor to hit the house?)

I've listened to Invaders Must Die now. I enjoyed listening to it, but it's not made it onto my favourites yet. I danced with Pete some of the time; he likes it too, but a little less than I do. Susan didn't enjoy it at all, and Liam ran for the hills as soon as the guitar came in on the first track. Poor thing, I could hear him trying to bury himself under his blanket.

I think I'll treat it like I do my small collection of classical music. It's nice background music, but I won't miss it if it isn't played for a while.

Something funny happened in English today. We were working on our folio pieces when the door opened and a green parakeet flew in. It flew around the classroom a couple of times, stole a hat that I didn't even know I was wearing, and flew out again, the door slamming shut behind it. I've not told anyone about it (except for you guys), and I usually keep these things to myself, but I realised this blog was portraying a picture of me with very regular characters as my hallucinations. That's not the truth. Yeah, Pete hangs out with me on a mostly daily basis, and Susan is pretty hard to get rid of (especially since she's started appearing more often), and Liam's pretty much a constant, but there are a lot of hallucinations that I don't talk about. Some of them hang out with me for a few days then leave. Some of them only last a few seconds, like that parakeet earlier. Some of them are more permanent, but don't stay long when they do appear (Brainy Smurf is the most common of these, and by far the most annoying).

Nowadays I can usually tell if something's real or not by looking at the people around me and judging by their reactions if they can see it too. Sometimes it's more difficult, though. If nobody's there, or if they're distracted by something else, then I have to judge it by circumstance. Luckily this has never happened to me, but one of my biggest fears is that I'll start talking to someone in public, and everybody else sees me talking to thin air.

Anyway, I don't know how this post got so long, but if I don't stop now I'll keep on rambling. Ciao for now, dudes!

Blergh!

I wasn't at college today. When I got home last night I felt so ill that I went straight to bed. But then I woke up in the middle of the night (feeling so nauseous I nearly vomited a couple of times) with a crushing headache and a runny nose that took one and a half boxes of soft tissues to clean up. (I mention they were soft because despite that fact my nose is now redder than Rudolph's.)

I woke up again about half-seven this morning, so I texted A and B to let them know I wasn't going to make it in. B is back now (she wasn't in yesterday - grr!). I'm not sure when I'll be back though. I think it's some sort of flu thing. My joints are aching as if I've spent the past two hours on a trampoline. My Dad's been bringing me hot lemon and honey drinks through the day, and since I've been too sore to sit up or hold up a book, Pete's been reading to me.

He's been having fun with the different characters, giving them different voices. He's always been good at accents. But the thing I've found with Irish-American accents (at least the ones on the telly) is that they don't sound very different from a Scottish accent. Oh, that reminds me. The book he's been reading me is the one I'm going to be studying in English. And the book is ... *drumroll* One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest.

As if English wasn't anxiety-provoking enough for me. But you never know, my classmates might actually be as accepting of me as A and B have been. Maybe I've just been living in a pocket of the country that's much worse than average. But I can't know that until I challenge them. I suppose that's the handicap with being different - you never know where you're safe until you test it.

I managed to make it over to the computer a few hours ago. (At least I think I've been here a few hours. Maybe I'll ask Dad.) I've emailed my lecturers to tell them why I wasn't in (though A and B will probably have let them know) and why I couldn't contact them sooner. I hope I'll be back by Friday. Not just for the work I'd be missing, but also because I can't wait to listen to that last Linkin Park album. When I told A how much I loved Minutes To Midnight she said "Just wait till you hear A Thousand Suns!", so I've got pretty high expectations for it.

Anyway, I hear the oven buzzer going. I couldn't face dinner earlier, but Dad went out and bought some fritters. Gosh, they smell delicious! See you later! (Or rather, type to you later, as I doubt I'll ever be seeing anyone who's read this.)

Music

So A, B and I (ooh, I like that - I shall try and use it again) were talking about music, and I admitted that I haven't been the most educated person in that respect. So A showed me a couple of songs on her mp3 player, then decided to lend me some CDs over the weekend.

The two she lent me are called Hybrid Theory and Meteora. They're both by a band called Linkin Park. Something funny: when she let me listen to one of their songs, I thought I recognised the singer's voice. Sure enough, they're the band that sang on the new Transformers films. That's partly why she decided to lend me that band first. A said she'll lend me the next two albums tomorrow (Monday), and B says if I like Linkin Park, she'll show me a band called the Prodigy (I think that's how you spell it?).

So far, I think I like them. They're quite electronic compared to most rock music I've heard on the telly, which I like about them. I've always liked computery bleeps and distorted noise. I was pleasantly surprised by their lyrics. Most of the songs I've heard on televisions or in shops have been about being sad about the hot partner you just lost, or how great it is to be "popular" with the opposite sex, or throwing your future out the window so you can "live in the moment". Linkin Park's songs seem to be more about the inner struggles that a lot of us have to face. Even when they write songs about relationships, it's not the soppy "I know this person is right for me because they are so beautiful but I will never be as good as them so I may as well go cry in a corner" cliche, it's about the more complicated kind of relationships; the ones that subtly both people from within, the ones where someone is taking advantage of the other's personality or emotions, the ones where the other person doesn't actually care about you at all. All in all, it's about the kind of people that mainstream society forgets about. The "broken" people, or the "weirdos", the ones that don't fit in. A says this music helped her through some tough times. I can see why. Sometimes, just knowing there's people out there who are facing similar struggles can help you to stay strong and keep fighting.


Another thing I like about these albums is that each song has its own sound. The music seems to fit the mood perfectly each time. One of my favourite songs so far has to be "With You". The emotions are so powerful, and that introduction is just amazing! "Crawling" and "Somewhere I Belong" both resonate with me very strongly, so I think I might try and avoid listening to those ones too much.


Poor Pete can't stand this sort of music, and insists I wear headphones or turn it off when he's around. Liam doesn't seem to mind. He's been acting normally, except that he seemed curious at the new noises coming from my speakers. Susan absolutely loves it. I've actually had to ban her from singing the lyrics when she's around. What's strange is she can hear it even when I've got the headphones in, whereas Pete can't. I'm not going to even try to explain why that happens.


Anyway, it's past my bedtime (I took way longer than I should have over this post), so I'll have to say good night. Ciao!

My "friends"

Okay, so I've already mentioned Liam. I thought I might say a bit about more of the imaginary friends my mind has collected over the years.

Since you already know a bit about him, I think it would be best to start with Liam. As you (should) already know, I met Liam when he was just a baby badger, abandoned at the edge of the playground. When I took him home I asked my parents if I could keep him. My Mum flat out said no, but I managed to change her mind with the combined power of nagging and blackmail. Yeah. Not my finest moment, but at least I gained a friend. Such a cute friend too! He spends most of his time in the garden nowadays, eating and ... other things. He's made a bit of a mess of the trees, but it doesn't bother Mum and Dad, since they can't see it, and it doesn't harm the trees either. By some miracle, my parents have managed to dodge his latrine. The close calls are quite amusing to watch, though.

I take him inside at night. He's got a pile of blankets in the airing cupboard that he sleeps on. Sometimes if I forget to change them he drags them out himself and tries to put them in the basket. But I'm losing my train of thought, or speech, or text, or whatever. I'll introduce the rest of my "friends" in a minute.

I'd just like to point this out first: over the years, my hallucinations have changed quite a lot. Every now and then one of them will disappear, or a new one might arrive. (This post will describe the personalities that are currently resting in my brain, and are subject to change as time passes.)

One of my longest-lasting friends is a boy named Pete. Strangely enough, Pete has aged mentally, but not physically. He's had the body of a six-year old since I met him, but as time's past he's matured at the same rate I have. Although he's one of my oldest friends, we have several differences. For one, he likes pop music (and hates that I don't let him keep up with the charts), whereas I am rather more - shall we say unorthodox? - in my own tastes. For another, he hates reading (I don't even know if he bothered to learn). But we have a shared history, and he isn't picky about what films he watches, so he's a good companion.

Somebody who doesn't make such a good companion is (I'm almost embarrassed to admit this) Brainy Smurf. Luckily he doesn't hang about a lot. Usually he just pops up if I'm not feeling particularly happy about something, most often with a snarky tone and a self-important statement. He's been around for about three years now, ever since I caught an episode of The Smurfs on the telly. I didn't regret watching the episode (it was a good episode), but then Brainy started showing up. At least I'm not the only one who finds him irritating, though. Whenever he says anything he is greeted with a chorus of "Shut up, Brainiac!" from whoever's around at the time.

Another one who drops in occasionally is Susan. Susan is almost like an alter-ego of mine. She lives within my head, and sometimes decides to step into the world. Most of the time it's only her voice though. She's the same age as me, and she shares most of my interests. Where we differ is our perceptions of the world. Susan is generally pessimistic about society, and people in general. If she were ever to gain proper form then she would probably end up being a suicide bomber or something - just so she could take people with her. Surprisingly though, she often points out the beauty of the natural world to me. I remember a time we were walking through a forest and she rushed over to look at ants crawling over a log. I never would have noticed them if it weren't for her.

- I've just realised that this post is very long, so I'll try and wrap it up.

Susan started out as just a pessimistic voice in my head, possibly resulting from my experience of people (and dragging me into depression), but since then she has developed a personality and a face. I think that, possibly, she grows more substantial as my outlook brightens, reflecting our separation.

There are a few others, but these are the main ones. And since I've started college I've become busier (this took me almost week to write). I find it funny that, while I've been writing this post, I've begun the process of making some real friends. More about that later, though.

Ciao!

As promised ...

In my last blog entry I mentioned a strange thing that happened after I left school for the second time. I didn't think much of it at the time, what with my mind being so unreliable and such, but now I feel it was too much of a coincidence for me to let it go unnoticed. I just hope I don't get into trouble by sharing this.

I used to take mid-morning walks around town on weekdays. I was walking my usual route, skirting the school so as to avoid any unwanted attention. This route took me down to the riverside, which is surrounded by trees. I'm not sure why they built a school so close to a river. It just seems so risky. And that's not even mentioning the erosion of the river valley and the regular floods every few decades.

Anyway, I'm getting off-subject. I was walking next to the river when I spotted a figure further along the path, in amongst the tree trunks. I thought this might be another new friend that my mind had created, for it definitely wasn't human. Although dressed in what looked like a business suit, this figure was unnaturally tall and thin. I called out to the figure and it turned round. Although it didn't have any facial features, it seemed surprised. I started to jog towards the figure, and it quickly turned and started walking away from me. I would have caught up with it, but when it moved behind one of the tree trunks it seemed to disappear completely.

This was a few days before one of my former classmates went missing.

It's a shame, she was a nice girl. She had pretty blue eyes, and a freckle on her ear. They never did find out what happened to her.

A lot of you will know where I'm going with this. If you don't then it's probably for the best that you discontinue reading. Just stop reading and move on to the next post (which I haven't written yet, but will probably write in the future).

At the time, my parents asked me if I'd seen anything suspicious. I'd learned how to tell the difference between hallucinations and reality by then, so I told them I hadn't seen anything. Nobody would have taken it seriously if I'd told them; even myself.

Recently though, I've been reading about encounters with an entity known as the "Operator" or the "Slender Man". The figure I saw that day definitely fits the physical description, and it seems to fit the M.O. of this Slender fellow. Apparently he doesn't like crazy people. Maybe that's why he didn't want to talk to me.

I haven't seen him since that day, and I don't think any other children have gone missing. If it was him, I hope she wasn't in too much pain. I've heard stories of him stalking people for months, making them more and more paranoid.

Anyway, after I heard about the Slender fellow online, I tried to find out more about him. This lead me to some video series and many many blogs. Eventually I decided that, despite my hatred of user accounts, I would have to make one in order to keep up with all of them.

I'm not quite sure why I'm telling you all of this. I suppose with me starting college soon I should start getting used to talking about myself. Forgive me if I seem a little on-edge at times. This is still pretty new to me.