I feel like my life's just out of reach, but how do you grasp something you only see out of the corner of your eye?

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

New Digs

I've been hooked up now.  My own little functioning place.  TV, bed, food, gamecube.  I've forgotten most of these things, damn it felt good.

No mindscrews from the thing either.  Haven't even seen it.  Maybe its due to being back on my meds.  Gives me a great sense of comfort at least.  I take them and I just don't stress.  Not even when nature calls and I have to, well....look at what is left of me.  Its unnerving right now, but when I'm doped up, life is almost decent.

Until he shows.

He still doesn't tell me much, I think he's just expecting me to do things.  If I am following him somewhere, he just turns his head towards me, subtly, expecting me to do something.

I don't even know these people, and Spencer's certainly not one to tell me what is happening.  Two days ago, he had me tag along with him.  He just stood there, looked at me, then turned expecting to leave.  That look, it is a whip across my back, I nearly leapt out of my spot just to keep him from getting any worse.

Anything to keep from it getting worse.

He took me along that place, the Path, they call it.  It is...well, depending on if I've had my meds or not, its either mind numbing horrific, or unpleasant. 

There's this road obviously, a beaten trail, like in grass.  All about you there's something a lot like wind.  It comes from any direction, making you wince from the pressure.  The leaves are carried on the wind, naturally.   They are strangely soft, almost like cotton.  I kept one from the travel but it either disappeared or got lost.

The scale of the place is very weird too, it reminds me of those 2.5D games where you'd walk and walk, and whatever was in the distance only moved a little.  It was like the perspective was clumsy, I guess.  The gigantic tree in the background didn't help matters.  Half the time I heard labored breathing on the wind, but never saw whatever made the noise.

Anyway, we make it through, not so much that we do anything different, just that he stops, and I stop, and we're not there anymore, as if everything melted away.

No idea where we were, and I wasn't going to ask.  I just knew we were in some apartment complex, a hallway somewhere.  He opened a door, and some guy inside apparently recognized him, because he got panicked real fast.  He apologized for something, he found himself in the corner of his apartment, just by Redlight walking towards him, quietly herding him there.

And then he looked at me, then quietly stepped aside.

I didn't know what to do, but I stepped up.

This guy, just some guy with glasses and dark hair was weeping for his life in front of me.  When he got a good look at me, he just gasped.

He feared me.  It was as if death had come for him.

It felt so good, to have that power, to be in control.

He did something wrong.  I didn't care what it was.  He lost control of the situation, and it was all mine.

I...don't feel like continuing right now.

Thursday, June 14, 2012

Under his watchful eye

Had a few days after that last post to sit and figure things out.  Sure I've sort of rushed into something here, but really I don't see any other choice for me. 

That said, dealing with the devil in a red hoodie isn't going to be fun.  I've only seen him once so far.  He just showed up for a bit, gave me some money, a cell and a charger, and said something cryptic about work to do soon.  I asked him to tell me what's going on, to at least know what I am supposed to do.  He just gave me a look that I remember far too well, and suddenly I didn't give a damn anymore about what was to be done.  I did manage to ask for those anti psychotics that I had before, because holy shit I need them nowadays.  He relented to that, not that he had them on hand, but he seemed confident he'd get ahold of them for me.

Then he left.  Just disappearing into thin air, he'd take a step, and suddenly not be there anymore.  Much like someone else I know.  I know *what* happens, but I don't know how it happens.  I understand this Path stuff, I've read enough to get that there's a place that people can walk into if they know how.

I don't know how it happens, or what you have to do, nor what it looks like there.  I admit, its a neat trick, its majorly fucked up to consider that there's people out there who can effectively motherfucking teleport, but I guess when you're exposed to supernatural shit after a while it rubs off.  I've read about people trying to go toe to toe with the monster, or surviving utterly deadly moments, even claiming to do magic of some sort.

I don't know how I feel about all this, but I'm sick of being helpless, I'm sick of the stares on the street.   At least today, I could afford to eat.  Bought myself some gloves but I don't like wearing them.  It doesn't feel right, and I use that term loosely, since I can't really feel anything in my hands. 

On the bright side, I haven't seen anything that I shouldn't.  I managed to sleep for three hours as well.  I have to say, there's a strange sense of security now that things are 'official'. 

I wouldn't say things are looking up, but damn if I didn't enjoy a pizza, some soda and a night of fucking rest.  I wonder if this is part of the gimmick, being a bad guy.   Not having to deal with horrors anymore, not running for my damn life every day. 

I'm sure things are bound to get worse, but today I can almost smile...

Friday, June 8, 2012

Through the cracks

Some of us don't get the easier path.  I know, I know, there's no real easy road for the Stalked, but there is an easier path. 

People who find solace with others, people who they can count on.  Whether it be the kinship formed of necessity, or a relationship that got interfered with, there are those out there who can come together when needed.

Hell, there's people out there who drive halfway across the country to save some poor fucker. 

Takes guts.

Some of us don't get that luxury.  Some of us fall through the cracks.  I get that, I mean, its bound to happen.  Not everyone can be saved, not everyone finds a team to help.

Which is why I don't feel bad at all.  Because we all have hard choices to make.  Because when it comes down to it, we stand alone at one point or another.

I am so damn tired of being alone, I haven't had a real conversation in months,  I haven't FELT anything in weeks.

Its horrible, yeah...It really is.  The same guy who did such things.

and I'll still throw anyone under a bus to get away, to get gone.
because I'm not really one of you guys, you Runner types.

And I'll do what I have to do.  Because its the only way I can survive.

I'll take solace with the only one who offered me a hand.



so many ifs

If he can find a way to keep  that thing away from me

IF I can get my necessities met.  I haven't had a decent meal in months, or a bed at least.  Clothes I don't care about.  I'll never take off what I'm wearing.  I'll NEVER see what is left of me.

IF I'm not alone anymore




if I can be human again

if just for a little while.

god help me

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Running on fumes

I'm going back on the road.  I don't know where I am, don't care where I'm going.  I need to get out.  I'm sick of burns, I'm sick of atrophy, sick of looking at myself, but I don't really have any choice in the matter.

I'll just be some horrible looking fucker trying to escape this shit.

I'll write more when I figure out what I have to do, not that anyone's really reading nowadays.  Whatever.

nothing matters anyway

Thursday, May 31, 2012

There's not much to say.  I just sit here again, in another hospital bed again, without much to do or see.  So I've been reading and trying to figure out where I am.

I have no clue.

My room looks sort of shabby, 2nd ratye even.  There's a hallway, but there's no movement, there's food but I don't know who brings it.

I can stand again I

no, it doesnt matter  just a freak it   i just have nthing and i cant do this

dont even think
theres anything left of me now

all i can sleml is just gasoline  that smell

so stupid   had to prove my life

wanted freedom,  and now

just charred

just so afraid
even like this   so afraid of dying

i dont know why

dont even kno what to do anymore

just suffer


Monday, May 28, 2012

i can type bter now  but nott too good


shouldk be dead, damnti  should just dead

i dont think i my fingers  they work but
no flesh

just charrred
like claws

i ll kill him
or i make
him kill me

lost everythng now

my life

just a monster

Thursday, May 24, 2012

hardto typer  using pen   fgingersd   burbned  dead

shoiuld havedied now
hporrib le


whhy aam istill alive/

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Human nature is interesting. One would think that, when trying to assert identity, a person would go on the defensive, attempting to protect themselves in whichever way they could. One would think that one would try their best to avoid outside stimuli, for fear of their makeshift walls suddenly not being able to hold back the flood of disillusionment. Denial. Confusion. Pride. And eventual downfall; It’s happened so many times that it’s a wonder that there are still some on the opposing side of this little game.

How many losses does it take for a group to figure out they’re not going to win…?

I suppose that’s why Mr. Chamber’s –my apologies, Caden’s- little “challenge” proved so fascinating. And though I suppose I can understand why he’d do such a thing –losing your place in the so called “pecking order” must be truly traumatic indeed, I simply went to inform Caden that such behaviours would not be tolerated.

After all, there is no pecking order for our mutual friend anymore.

Not when you serve him.

Not when you belong to me.

What Caden never realized was that it was physically impossible for him to not play my game. I can’t possibly fault him for trying; the field was his, albeit only because I was kind enough to give him that option. The location he offered, the seemingly abandoned garage of a deserted country home, was a good choice. Fairly well lit, but with plenty of makeshift weapons, vantage points and shadows.  Not a bad spot for an ambush, and I was sure to make a note of that.

The only access point was through a wrecked car, which was a nice touch. Enclosed spaces are always dangerous to be confined in, and Caden seemed to be making the best of the situation, because the second I was inside, various heavy objects instantly blocked my access and exit points.

The man I made eye contact with as he doused the hood of the vehicle with gasoline was a broken one; somehow both manic and calm at the same time, filled with both murderous intent and fear, longing for my place and loathing for what one must be to get there… And so when the blowtorch in his hands was ignited moments later, I only continued to observe him.

The gasoline started to ignite. For a split second, there was only us two and the flames as company.

I must admit, from there I was slightly disappointed. There was nothing else. No second phase, no backup plan, no incredible turn of events that would leave me in awe of his abilities. There was only silence on my part and a thin shred of hope on his.

Hope that I needed to crush

Wishful thinking. That is what I assume Caden was cursing as I struck him from behind, the only thing left in my wake being a fluttering black leaf.

As I gazed down on him, bandages ripped away from his own fingers, I could see what he was so desperate to hide; how burned he was from that boiling water, the heated pot he held as he beat that woman to death…

The gasoline started to trickle in a puddle near him, under him, not yet consumed by the spreading flames,

And I decided to see how much a pawn needed to be burnt until it learned its place.

There are no happy endings. There is no matter of chance or co-incidence. Your rival won’t show up in a pinch, and you won’t gain a skill at the brink of death. No, the strongest will always win, and the weak will always submit. Anyone that says otherwise is lying.

You all have the chance to walk beside me. It’s something I suggest you consider.

After all, you don’t have much of an alternative, now do you?



Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Up a creek

Alright, so surprise, surprise, I fucked up again.  Don't care.

Don't care about nothin really.  Gonna die free when I go out.  All you fuckers can kiss my burnt ass for all I care.  Alright, some of you.  Some of you guys have been sorta cool, despite me constantly losing my shit.  So, yeah thanks.

I guess this is sorta cathartic though, in the long run.  Fuckin Spencer was the guy I saw myself in the same shoes as.  So, after I wreck his shit, I guess we'll see what should've happened to him, you know, not giving in to lunacy or whatever the hell verbage I can use for MOTHERFUCKING SHITSTORM OF FUCKED UP.

I gotta do this.  I'm psyched.  And tomorrow, I get to know what its like to be free, no longer weighed down by my own worries, this heavy weight that I've put upon myself, being a progeny of Redlight.  The REAL one, not this half-baked shit.

Lookin forward to it.  Lookin forward to moving on finally.

Stay frosty, and thanks.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012


Oh that's fucking perfect, the same asshole who I saw hit a bit close to home, takes advantage of that and fucks with me even further.  That's just great.  Is that why you are playing that role now, to get to me?  Why fucking bother, I'm just one dude.  What is it you want from me, huh?

Why am I even asking.

just dont want to

I don't want to write lately.  It feels wrong.  Its like...I guess, I'm ashamed of shit.  This talk about a Redlight, it keeps making me think about how stupid I've been at times.  I know, I know, I've hashed over that a thousand times already, and thats all there is to say..

I've gotten a nice number of comments at times, during this little blog adventure of mine.  Be yourself, you don't have to let anyone be in control except you.  Stuff like that.   Its appreciated...

but I still feel strings attached.   Its like, there's something I need to overcome before I can really be done with all this.  I know it sounds stupid, and sure, probably is, but I want to be free.  Its like...all I have right now.  The idea that I can make my own choices.   I won't wax philosophical about illusions,  you hear that term a lot, and I won't say make an allusion that the monster is control or something.

I just want to know, that if I'm going out, at least I have some choice in how it goes.  That's pretty simple, right?   Pretty stupid I imagine, but not much else to go for.  And maybe....I can get something done that'd be cool too.

So, you pretentious, cut-rate fuck.  Calling me your property, acting all non-nonchalant and all mighty from behind your computer screen.  Just LOVING that anonymity and perfect verbatim that only the internet can bring. 

You want a shot at me?

here's your chance
5/4/12   at 10:00 PM

If I see you show up early, I'm gone.  I see you've brought friends, I'm gone.  Anything that even LOOKS like you setting a trap, I'm gone.  And your little lectures will be for nothing, because you can't take me on, on my terms.  Maybe you'll hunt me down, maybe you'll off me, since I'll obviously be close by at some point in time.   But at least I'll die knowing I can defy a bitter, psychopath piece of shit, that likes to PRETEND to play mind games, but can't step up to the plate for real.

Your move.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

cannot believe this shit

Alright Fucker.  What did you do?

Seems real coincidental to me, that I'd be in the middle of a damn post, and I get interrupted by IT.

Maybe I'm giving you too much credit, but when a goddamn window explodes, and sends people into a panic, and me into a fucking dead run, there's something going on.

Was just typing my shit, was so damn stupid to type then, it was right there, too damn close.  I desperately wanted my solace and it fucking shattered the window.  I sent the log up before I even looked, I knew something went wrong, and I haul ass out of there.  I glance out of one of the side windows, and its there.  The glass shatters again, and then the next.  All I have is just like a second or so ahead, just running as fast as I can.

Now I'm a mad sprinter, have had way too much training of late, for all the good it did me.  Turned a corner, it was there, I bolt the other direction, it appears somewhere else.  Never see it moving 'in', its just always there.  I go out in traffic, hoping to catch a bus or something, and nothing.  This thing was on. my. ass, and I was getting exhausted.   No money for taxi fare, not stealin a damn car, can't even figure out how to hotwire, but I keep moving, and it starts showing up slower...  I don't think I was actually outrunning it, but maybe it was getting bored, whatever.  When I got worn down and tired as hell, thats when it stopped.   I was dead meat, and it just gives up.  Who the fuck does that?    Unless they're making a point.

So, Fine.  I don't believe you had anything to do with this, but whatever, its obvious, you want a go.

I'm not part of your bullshit, wannabee.

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

I've got faith


Gargoyle said that, last time I posted.  'got faith in you.'

Damn, that's weird.  I mean, thanks, I guess, but holy shit, I've barely spoken to the dude.  Heh I remember getting pissed at him for doin cosplay.  Fuckin unbelievable.

Whatever.  Back to the matter at hand.

Guess who the fuck has been on my tail last three days, as far as I can tell, non motherfucking stop?

Its not my troll.


I hate to give this guy credit, but I have been running like my hair is on fire these past few days.  Its worse than its ever been.  I mean, its outside the library right now, I can SEE him.  RIGHT. NOW.  And that's scary belyond all reason, that there's three other people here, just playin solitare or reading email, and its right outside the window.  Maybe twenty feet away.

I am worn ragged, and I don't want to give credit as I said, but I wonder if this is sort of....related.

Earlier today I threw a rock at it.  Missed.  Probably for the best.  I don't want to antagonize
oh fuck that I do want to antagonize, but I'm not so fucking stupid to rush into hand to whatever its got to

Friday, April 20, 2012


because he's dead.

because he died.

because some little girl managed to do a shitton more than me, and resisted whatever the hell he does.

did.  What he did.

I'm not a full on expert on the subject, but I've done my homework.  When this Almaga...Amalgamation Sage showed up to argue with whoever this is, I wasn't surprised.  They've met. In some form or another, at least. Given the fucked up shit I've read on his blog, well, I don't know what's going on with him.

But I *do* know what's going on with you, faker.

Heh, I sounded like Shadow a bit there. 

Here's the point.  I was at the spot you were, man.  I threw it all away, I wanted it done, I wanted it just to be mother fucking over.  I couldn't take the stress, the strain, the weird feeling I get whenever its nearby, like a mental scream that reminds me its unnatural, like a natural instinct upon seeing a snake or spider, we have learned to avoid and fear poisonous animals.....fuck I'm getting off topic.

You want to be someone you're not.  You want to hide.  Yeah, I get that.  I hide.  I've done it mentally, and I do it physically too.  Motherfuckin walkin round covered up, bandaged up, so no one can go 'what the fuck is wrong with you?'    Sure they stare, but I know WHY they stare, and that's alright.   I wear the gear, sure.  It used to feel 'cool' I guess at first, I was pretending, like you, to be someone in control, in charge.  Fuck it felt good,  I would imagine people pissin their pants when I showed, because I was the fuckin show, and the spotlight was set.

I don't know if you were done dirty like me,  I don't know if you're some guy on the edge, lookin for a personality that ain't his.   I don't know if you're just a mother. fuckin. troll.   gettin his rocks off on other people's grief.   Maybe in that way, you ARE him.  There's a reason pictures of Redlight show him with a troll face.  But that's ALL you are.

I found it frustrating,  hell I was motherfuckin catatonic for a bit.  The idea of being on a string, dancing to another's tune.  It haunts me,  I'm not ashamed.  I don't want to be a plaything for noodle arms, for the Faceless.  I. Won't. Be. Yours.

Talk your trash, all you're getting from me is an ass kicking.  

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Being pushed in a certain direction.

I never really bought into 'sides' in this conflict.   Well I guess that's a lie, I knew that there was ONE side, and then everyone else.  I knew that there was a supernatural force, fucking with people, and that some douches decided to join it.  (cue me a months ago).   Then there was everyone else, a vague, loose collection of people that comprised a pseudo-side.  People just trying to live, and maintain.  People that have very, very few ways to help one another aside from basic homelessness tips, and encouragement.   Aside from occasionally meeting face-to-face, these people barely knew each other.  The Runners, as it were.

I've teetered in this, yeah.  I just wanted it over,  I felt I wasn't strong-willed enough to survive.  I looked at what happened the first time there was an issue, and I was horrified by what happened, and I was willing to do whatever it took to either forget about it, or embrace it, just so long as the trauma was gone.  Admittedly, I've sort of gotten out of that funk now, after having that incident with Sufjan.

Now, I know I *just* rehashed this a post ago, so why am I discussing it again?  Because I seem to have a bit of a follower now, some anonymous ass who is throwing out ill-defined threats.  In short, your standard blog proxy.  Sad, pathetic wretches, living in the shadow of a monster, doing what they think is the 'monster's bidding' and 'the greater evil' against Runner types they claim to hate, yet can't help talking about.

So I suppose I need to take this as a good sign, that I've made my choice, or rather that someone feels either threatened or infuriated by me not going all Dark Side, and has taken it upon them self to be my antagonist.

Its really funny, now that I think about it.  Here I am, bandaged to fuck, wearing the same damn clothes I did when I left home, clothes of a dark mastermind of a sort...and I'm apparently a 'good guy' now.   Hell, I almost feel normal, even after all my pills ran out months ago.

Its almost reassurance that I'm at least, in control of myself now, that I'm human, that I'm one of 'us'.  I don't know if you can get what I'm saying right now, but in a sad sick way, it means I get to be alright, on a personal level.  Because while I will always have supernal issues, its going to push me into the way I need to go, away from deviance.

I can live with that.


Sunday, April 8, 2012

Life in six paragraphs

I guess lately, I'm more torn to what is happening to other people than to myself of late.  All in all, it's probably for the best.  I'm worried about others, and while there's no real sphere of influence, and the selection of people I know is rather limited right now, I'm going to try to make some more headway.  I think I'll start with those of you who already know me,  I need to learn your stories, your issues at hand if I'm going to actually have people I can trust.

My name is Caden Chambers, I awoke from a coma months ago, only to suspect my life was a lie.  In a fit of horror and rage, I took out my frustrations upon the woman claiming to be my girlfriend, but not before being burned by the same pot I used to brutalize her, as the Faceless creature we call the Slender Man watched.

I found clothes buried in my closet that evoked a very specific person to my mind, the clothes that a number of people have seen Redlight wear.   Redlight, this guy, was something else.  He was everywhere at times, he played dark games, and he always was a step ahead of those of us just trying to eke out a life.  Some claimed he 'bodysurfed' from person to person, that he was an intelligence, but nothing more.  Some said he could move faster than we could blink, stepping into some hidden realm that only those with the know-how and the willpower can visit.  They call it the Path of Black Leaves,  some strange otherworld where this creature may be from.   I don't know, myself.  I do feel a certain nostalgia towards Redlight, even if his path was not the same as mine.  I'm no cunning bastard, but I was part of him, I think.  

See, back months ago, this guy called Nick Dwyer, or Amalgamation Sage, had a little chat with the psycho, and tried to 'undo' this bodysurfing.  It's pretty fucking surreal, but I guess this is the world in which we live.  I won't claim to understand it, but what I find interesting is the timing of it.   He tried to limit Redlight's options in the world, by forcing him to have a sole host.   This was the time frame in which I was found comatose.  This lead me to believe that I was one of those people 'freed', I guess for lack of a better term.

I donned the persona, desperate to forget who I was, I just wanted to be someone else, and to emulate someone hated and feared, well, I liked the idea of getting such respect, such trepidation.  I quickly found out I couldn't handle it, I couldn't be this guy, because unlike him, I never reached that magical moment in which my life was mindless laughter and slaughter.  I was still stalked by the fucker.

So it was about then that I met Sufjan, who I felt taunted me about my girlfriend's murder.  I lost my shit, and kicked the crap out of him, even being dickless enough to try to bribe that Faceless thing into taking him, if he'd leave me be.   Sufjan lived, thank god, and we were back to square one.

I found out about a few other blogs, and started reading Spencer's blog.  Now, admittedly I haven't read it all, because there's a shit ton of people talking on it, but I see where its gone now.  A last stand between two people, one of them fallen.  I suppose that's the best word.

I seen in Spencer what I see in myself,  he's had the worst kind of shit happen to him, and tried to make the best of it.  I can sympathize.  He's failing horribly.  Again, I can sympathize.  Its actually fucking painful to read his words now, because as much as I hate it, all I fucking see is what happens to people at the end.  The people that really didn't WANT to go apeshit.

I saw some older stuff, people talking about roles and stories.  I think I've figured something out.  Everything was about a Hero, or even (Hero) as it was written.  And that's the thing,  we have us a monster but no savior.  Why can't we have one person insusceptible to this nausea and terror?  We need someone to look up to, we just need one person out there who can say, "We can beat this thing, and god willing, we'll live again."

I don't think I can be this person. 

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

The monkey on my back

So here I am again,  ciphering Sufjan's riddles as I kill time, as stress relief from my own life.  And yeah, it sucks, yeah it's shit, but I'm starting to come around.  I kept saying that there's just no way to get any better, and there's no truth to people being able to aid you, but now I think that's what is keeping me going.

So yeah, thanks guys.  Really.  Sufjan, Amy, Gargoyle, Elaine....I dunno about Moe and Ben so far, but whatevs, you're here, you're listening to my story, and I guess having a vent really does help.

Hell, I even dream about blogging now, its a refuge for me now, even if I don't comment much, or post daily, its a quiet place where things don't go wrong for me often.

Which brings me to Spencer.

Fucker's been quiet, and I guess that's a good thing.  I don't like thinking about what he could be doing, but I am trying, I'm really trying to not draw parallels between him and I.  Yes there are similarities, but we don't have to be the same.  We don't both have to have the bad ending, and yet I feel there needs to be confrontation between us if he goes bad.

Maybe he needs an outside hand,  maybe he needs an asskicking, maybe he just needs to talk.

Fuck me, I don't know.  I really don't.  It's asking for trouble to even consider hunting him down however the fuck I'd do that.  I guess what I really need to know is if he's gone, if he's really gone or not.  Granted, I'm not hardcore like him, didn't do fucking surgery on myself, though maybe my bandages count, but we've both been played in some form or another.

Maybe he needs a team to work with, a fresh one.  It could be one of those Batman things,  Batman needs a team to work with, although fuck all if I'm Robin,  let's get that shit straight.  If he doesn't, his life gets worse, he needs people to trust.

So maybe that's what ole boy needs.  His last team went to shit, with trauma and heartbreak.  Granted its probably not best to do anything right now to fix things, but its something I wonder about.

Heh, here I am trying to look out for someone else.
Aint that some shit?

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Comparisons, Heroes?

Stars don't twinkle, moon doesn't shine
stars don't twinkle, moon doesn't shine.

Fuck if it doesn't.  Somedays now I can't tell if its day or night.  I'm losing, I can tell now, and it scares the hell out of me.  I think I realized why I'm so afraid for Spencer.  I said before, he's been in worse than me, and managed to power through.  But now he's really REALLY close to melting down.  I can't really say much to him, I mean, what is there to say that isn't tripe bullshit?  "You can do it."  "Trust in us"   What is there to say?  I just don't know.

What I DO know is that if a guy like him fails, what chance is there for me?   I mean, I'm no hardass, I'm no tough guy, most action I ever had in my life is kicking a kid while he's down, and knocking trash cans on top of him.   Sorry bout that again, Sufjan

I need to know he'll be alright, I need to know he can survive, because when I look at him, I see what lies ahead for me.  If he can make it, maybe I can.  I mean shit, there's no heroes out here really.  Everyone fails, everyone falters.   There are no heroes.  That's why things turned so dark.  Who are the ones who rally to the cause, who really fight against evil, and do not succumb?  Dammit, Spencer, you HAVE to hold together.  What the fuck does it mean for me if you can't?  Can't you just give me hope that it'll be okay?  Do you have to be human, be fucking mortal and let that shit win, beat you? 

I need hope, I need to know I can be okay.   Dear god above or below, come out of this as a better person, or I'll never know how to fight back...

Monday, March 26, 2012

just when I thought I had it bad, someone reminds me that they're worse

Guess I should be thankful, but fuck if I know how to do that anymore.  Is this what I get to look forward to?  More misery?  I mean, this guy's toughed it out longer than me,   balls man, he's done a lot of hardcore shit and it takes this long for his world to fall apart.  Maybe he's tougher than me, heh,  probably

Maybe ordinary people don't always crack. Maybe there isn't any need to crawl under a rock with all the other slimy things when trouble hits, or give in the moment things turn to shit... maybe it was just me all the time.  Maybe that’s why I’m alone, adrift.  I couldn’t be bothered to take accountability, to fight for my own self.

maybe I just want to blame others because it makes me feel like I can't take control.  Maybe I am still here, still talking, because I haven't given up, despite what I've said and done.

I need to think.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

It was watching me, even through stone, through rock, through flesh.  Even out of sight, it was watching.

Tried to stand in traffic to just stop it all.  Couldn't do it.  nothing else to say.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Just another shipwreck

I  have been feeling like shit lately.  I took the bus out of Richmond, not even caring where I was going really, just grabbed the redline to get me moved to another city, so I was heading back north.

Can't get over what I did to Sufjan, that's the sort of crap I'm supposed to avoid, I mean it really is the same shit that happened with Kayleen.

Cept it wasn't now was it?  No, this shit I did on my own accord.  Sure, i was frustrated to all hell.  I was pissed about things and I got antagonized.
but who fuckin
Who fucking hops a bus to go interstate to whip some ass?

Holy shit I gotta get my mind right.  I mean, unless this is what happens naturally?  I just wanted all this to end, I can't TAKE THIS SHIT.  i can't take the weird thoughts, the feelings, going down a road only to see the Faceless creature and NONE see him.

God help me I am SORRY Sufjan, I am SORRY I did it.  I had no right

Things are so bad, and I just can't fucking get it to stop.

and then you go and forgive me?
who the fuck does that?

Someone, just make this thing end, make it go away already. 

its just THERE

waitning for WHAT FUCKER?
here I was just looking for an answer

I just said, 'what the fuck happened to me?" and look where it got me.
those guys who said 'Don't look into it' were totally right, its been nothing but suck and ass since.

Fucking murder,  murder, murderer, and all burned to shit.  COld as fuck, haven't eaten in two days  broke as shit now too

i'm going to sleep now,
and god help me i will never wake back up.

Friday, March 9, 2012


Fucker's still around.  Whatever.  It wasn't my intention to get him murdered.  Just saw an opportunity to maybe bribe the damn thing to leave me be.  I mean, he eats people right?  Why didn't he just eat Sufjan?

Sorta relieved I didn't actually get him killed, though.  But that means if he wasn't there for him, then well, that leaves only one choice for why he was there, right?

who the fuck do I have to throw under a bus to get away from him?

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Kool-Aid, motherfuckers!

Shit's lookin good today!  Let me tell you.

Okay, so I was all quiet for a few weeks, right, so you know there's bound to be a story behind it.  Well, sit your ass down and check this out.

In case you get all tl;dr  here's the short of it.

Kicked a bitch ass troll's ass, and he's probably dead now, so you know, good for that.

Some of you know this clown, Sufjan McBride, he's a pretentious twit runnin this blog called Integrity.  Well, he's committed himself some murder too, so here we are, murder buddies or some shit.  But he starts claiming moral superiority over me.  Starts saying MINE was worse than anything, because I wanted to smash in a skull with a fucking pot.

So let's go over this one last time before we move on.  Okay, Faceless...you know...horrific mindcrushing monster  tells ME to go kill someone, and I can't really do anything to stop it.  Its fucking horrifying, I mean I know you don't get that by reading it, but it is.  Have you ever actually watched yourself do something and was helpless to stop it?  IT'S FUCKING SURREAL AND HORRIFYING, BITCHES.   And this guy, this fucking guy Sufjan, he goes and shoves this Royal off a goddamn balcony for revenge, and says I'm the bad guy.

Fuck. You.

So I had enough of his shit.  Bitchass got all complacent, talking about himself too much.  Yeah, just like I was warning people about earlier!  Gee...he talks about a confederate tobacco grower.    Google it.  Richmond,  Richmond, Va.  Then he starts talking about where he is, because he sees some cryptic shit.  Now, that wasn't me, so we're clear, but...it does help me find him.

The best part is HE HAD A FUCKING PHOTO OF HIMSELF on the damn blog.

Portrait of a douchebag

ANYWAY, it takes me a few days, hunting down Starbucks, looking them over.  Played it cool on Google Maps, looking for warehouses near Starbucks.  There are a lot of fucking Starbucks in that town, so it takes some time, all with people giving me the big eye because I'm not exactly normal looking.

I scout his place for a while from across the road, in the alley, and I'm not fucking alone if you get my drift.  Faceless is out there on the sidewalk, he's just standing there, not even looking at me.  And it freaked me the hell out, damn it.  That's the reason why things have gotten so bad for me and him, but I just had no fucks to give about him right now, figured at the very least maybe he'd get whatever he wanted from us, and get the hell out of my life.

Right, alleyway.  Classic scoping spot from the movies, and yeah eventually I see him.  I went out into the street, doublechecking.  I mean I don't wanna jump the wrong guy or anything.  He just seems to be out doing shit, getting groceries for all I know.  So I get out of traffic, and yell out "Hey Sufjan!"   

He looks!

And in I go with a tackle.  How's that for Pokemon shit?  Caden uses Tackle.  IT FUCKED HIM UP.  or whatever.  I roll him right into the back alley of that Starbucks.  He curls up into a ball, doesn't even say a word as I just start wailing on him.  "Told you, TOLD you man, to stop with your shit, All I've got is time right now, and I might as well teach you a lesson."

I knocked over the trash cans, I went for the ribs, and it felt good.  Real good.  Felt good to be passionate about something, even if its something brutal.

It was weird.  I mean, here this thing is staring at us now, and I'm just furious.    I wasn't even mad about the things he said.

Shit.  I twas just
I just started thinking, of all the shit that's happened.
His fault, and I took it out on Sufjan.  Mr. Integrity.
I was in control,
This time, it was ME giving the pain.
I hurt him.
I hurt him and hurt him and hurt him, because then
it wasn't ME being hurt.  and I was so fucking glad for it.

I said some things, I don't even remember, i picked him up, and it was so blurry.  And that thing, that Faceless thing kept just being closer, didn't move, just was there.
and I couldn't think anymore,
I put my foot in his gut, gave him a shove towards the thing and ran like hell.

God help me, please let this be the end of him.  Please let him be done with me.

Monday, February 20, 2012

Troll around the world

Ahh yes, I've got my very own troll now.  Everyone welcome the hypocrite Sufjan McBride .  He enjoys uhm...well fuckall, outside of shoving some poor soul off a goddamn balcony and going out of his way to make me feel as bad as he does inside, I don't know what the little prick likes!

All I know is he's asking for a beating with the way things are going.  Think about it, I've got no job, no committments aside to my own sanity, and nothing but fucking time.    That right there is a good recipe for "Shut your damn mouth". 

Which brings me to the thought of the day,  threats, grievances and in general mayhem.  Everyone's a fucking action hero/ine, if you haven't noticed.  And while it's a bit hypocritical of me to lambast this right after issuing a "Smackdown, Party of 1" request, I'll admit to it myself just a hair.

So what is it that makes proxy threats so....blase?  Let's hypothetically say I say, "I'm going to kill you, and rape your dog." or some sick shit.  Invariably.   INVARIABLY the accused Runner or whomever will say some bullshit like... "Bring It, I'm packing a .35 herpaderpaherp with 5 million herpaderp rounds, and I've got herp herp herp herp..."  Its always about what they've got.

Fuck that.  I don't give a shit what you want to make people think, I know a person who really knows tactics wouldn't say a god damn word about having a claymore mine in his backyard, or a rifle and ammo within easy access.  So, what we've got is an inflated sense of security, and most likely a fantastic sense of make-believe.

That same false bravado that people throw on when they're shitting themselves because a FUCKING FACELESS MONSTER IS STALKING THEM.   Everyone here who's reading this, has either seen Faceless or knows enough to be afraid.  Let's not sugarcoat it,  hell I've broken down into tears twice, and soiled myself once.  I admit it, and I defy any of you to tell me you didn't at least pucker up tight when he ambushed you.

Now, to be a bit more realistic, why don't I just lay out what I'm working with, where I am.  

Not much.   When you're a homeless ass guy, ducking out of sight of the law, and have motherfucking bandages on your face and hands...shit doesn't go your way.  But hell that's the hand I'm dealt, so that's what I've got.  Really the only thing I've got is a shitload of time, and that's it.

Or at least, that's all I'm willing to admit to.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Much like an open wound

Been rough lately.  Still cold as fuck out here.  Cut off from everything I used to have in a different life.

Fucking Faceless sometimes showing up, freaking me the hell out.   Its........getting easier? I guess?  I mean, I'm not shrieking like a girl or shitting my pants or anything, but its so goddamn unnerving.  And he's not like, telling me shit to do or anything.

I mean, he doesn't have a fucking side! He's just there, and he has zero fucks to give.

So all this proxy shit, I can't figure it the fuck out.  How mental are these guys?  I mean I'm desperate, that's no surprise, I'm at the point I'd throw an old lady under a bus if it meant he'd be done with me.
He doesn't communicate
he doesn't care, he's just standing the fuck there

Saw him earlier tonight.  Homeless shelter.  Cuz its cold and there's food.
Now admittedly I draw a lot of looks.  I mean, I'm a motherfucking mummy with a red hoodie with a big ole  (X) on it. 
Either that or its cuz I have a laptop.   Damn good thing too, its the only thing that can really, I dunno, attach me to what life used to be like? 

Anyway, so the monster, the Slender Man he just pops in when I wasn't looking.  Other side of the room, quiet as a ghost and he's looking this way.  Doesn't take psychic powers to notice him in the room.  I may have stifled a yelp before I moved.

So this big guy, I mean BIG guy, we're talking 400 pound dude takes an interest in me, as I scurry the motherfuck away.  I get sort of belligerant, thought he was coming for the laptop, but no, he's sort of worried about me.

Guy out of the blue, motherfuckin cares.  How's that for a surprise? 
Fucking Faceless pops in again, behind him, about 20 feet away.  And this guy is yakking and talking, and wanting me to respond, and I can't do shit, because he's RIGHT THERE, my heart's going a mile a minute, and I swear he gets larger, well, taller, and just less..less right.  All spindly and shit.

This guy, who I probably'd call a fat fuck if he was an asshole, he tries to figure out what I've got a problem with.  He turns around
he doesn't see shit.  Good for him.
but he keeps looking
and he's talking
and he keeps looking

and then he must've seen
because I know the look he had on his face very, very well. 
and he panicked, and he fell.
and then he ran.

and then the fat one and the thin one were gone.
and I wonder.
Did I cause this?

I was staring at him.  I made him look, made him SEE, didn't I?

and I can't help but think

"Now you know, what my problem is."

"Now you know, whats wrong with life, with everything."

Now you get to face the terror that I do, every damn day

There's something strangely satisfying about all this, its so wrong to say it

I mean I sort of liked the guy, he was nice, and he seemed to have a real interest in helping


Misery loves company.

Friday, February 10, 2012

What do you see in a prism?

So there's this guy calling himself Bluelight.  As in the bluelight special.  Nah, we all know he's playing off of the names Greenlight and Redlight.

I don't really care either way, but it makes me fuckin think.  What do I think about Redlight, eh?  I mean I was a chump he was using for a body, I think.  Explains the red hoodie and camo pants and shit.

Well, first it was all, "oh shit, this is who I am.  So now I just need to rediscover myself."


Its not like I got memories of the dude really.  I guess its just somethin I wanted to be, you know?  Some cool manipulative cat, ran the show, was in control.   Wasn't scared of shit, had his act together.
Shit's tight, you see.

I was all, aww yeah, lets go break shit, and I'll pick things up, and do some terror.  I'll be on the CAUSING end of this shit.  Be in control. 

Fuck no, that doesn't work.

I ain't him.  It just ain't how it goes.  I mean, I do get weird thoughts occasionally, but is that shit just me going nuts, or maybe I'm getting a couple of suppressed memories or something, back when I was being used as a puppet?

Fuck, if anything, I should be motherfucking LIVID at this guy.  He comes over and does SOMETHING to me, fucks me up good, and that's when my shit went downhill like it was on goddamn rocket skis.

So Fuck him.  I guess.

I dunno man, do I change out my gear now?  Do I make my own persona, change my handle, be someone else?  Maybe.  But in truth, I sort of like the image, I guess.  Motherfucking creepy.  Makes me feel...I dunno, like I've got something to hide, that I've got some little bit of control in my life.  Its probably just that persona shit I've read about by that rabbit head dude. 

The idea's somethin like, you add layers to your own personality, and it makes it harder for shit to get to you.  Its fucking make believe, but I kinda get it.  Makes me think that there's some use to it.  What with all the muthafuckers running around in masks.  I mean, shit happens for a reason, right?  Fifty fallen dudes can't be all wrong, 

Take back life, just a little,  just a wee bit of control of who you are.  Who I am.  And maybe, just maybe, that little fucking sliver of who you pretend to be, maybe that shit's what'll save you.

All I know is I feel a damn sight better, knowing at least on a fucking blog, I can pretend to be a little more badass, or maybe a little more than just some dude that shits his drawers when a goddamn monster shows itself.

Maybe thats what we all do?

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

So at what point does this blissful Nirvana, that is surrender, start?    I haven't seen it in a few days, but that's hardly good news.  Night's a fucking terror, sleeping in an alley or wherever, knowing, just knowing that its out there close by, probably watching me.  I'm walking around fucking invisible, just another bum on the street, and if this horseshit isn't bad enough, I got my reply from Messenger, which amounted to 'Ask me if I give a fuck."

No shit.  Asshole's supposed to be some coordinator bullshit, guy's a douchebag, after spending all that time bitching about our side, and that we're all still human somewhere, he goes and tells me to fuck off.

Whatever.  Beginning to think its like that everywhere.  People just looking out for number one.  I get it, I guess.  I wouldn't hesitate to throw someone under a bus to get some rest nowadays.

Maybe that's what I need to do?  Maybe I should start sharing the misery, introduce some other fuckers to this shithive life.  Show THEM why they should've cared, why it IS their problem too.

I. Don't. Know.

I can't get a grip, it's as simple as that.  There's just nothing else to my life anymore, there's no pieces to pick up.  There's just Faceless and a guy who has gotten burned.  How can you fight that?

Thursday, February 2, 2012

I live to serve
I live to serve
i live to serve
I live to serve
I live to serve

just please stop it  please

Friday, January 27, 2012

Rescued, abandoned, whats the diff?

Doesn't matter what side I'm on, no one gives a shit.  Either that or I just don't know who to talk to right now.

How organized are the 'bad guys' anyway?  Looks like roles are pretty cut and dried.  Most of them seem to be well beyond whatever state I'm in, where they're taunting or leaving cryptic messages for the rest of you guys it stalks.

So is that how this works? Do I find relief in tormenting others now?   Admittedly, it is starting to have an appeal to me, if more for desperation than anything else.  I mean, I've had maybe 3 hours of sleep in the last few days.

I think.  It's really hard to keep track of time lately.   My stomach aches, and it gets cold as hell out here, running a step ahead of something that might as well be my boss.  My Master.   And yet it doesn't say anything, it doesn't clue me in on anything but screaming horror.

I don't know if its any worse than the apathy the world's gotten into these last thousand years or so,  sometimes I think I just won't be happy until there's either nothing left anywhere, or I'm dead.  Probably the latter.

People giving me just enough of a fuck to stare at me funny.  Guy in muddy red hoodie with mutherfuckin bandages is a strange sight, i give you that, but I'm not taking them off.  No sir.  I've already figured out why a lot of them wear masks.  Fuck, I mean, a lot of *us* wear masks.  Not for anonymity, well not really. 

It's because I can't fucking stand to look at myself.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012


so this isn't quite working out like I thought it would.   I was sort of hoping it'd leave me alone, maybe even clue me in on shit, what it wants done, but its nothing fucking like that.

For starters, I am not certain it even understands me.  Tried talking to it, last time it caught up with me.  Took every ounce of my being not to run like hell, but I was tired, so tired of everything, I told Faceless that I gave up, that I was ready to serve.

Thing just stared at me.

I found myself having a one sided conversation as it just stood there, just looking at me.

"Well come on, I said I give up, I'm ready for whatever, I don't fucking care anymore."

"Do it...Come on, whatever it is, whatever commands or bullshit that happens, just do it already, I can't take this."


I even knelt symbolically.

"Just...just give me orders, make it stop...please."

Nothing.  Even called it Master, which is a bitter pill to swallow.

"Come on, make me one of your guys!  Make me an agent, a proxy, whatever its called, Just do it so I can be done with this life."


I resorted to trying to coax this thing into action, to do something!  Here I am, covered in mud, having a conversation with a monster, and I start talking to him like he's a dog!

"You wanna proxy me?  huh? Come on, you been following me, so you're interested right?  Wanna just do it?  Do it?"

I started screaming at it, goading him to just do whatever mindfuck it is, and get it over with.  By the time I opened my eyes, it was gone again.

I am starting to think I made a very big mistake, but  I just
I just can't do this shit.


no fuck that,

Sunday, January 15, 2012

rescued from it all

was perusing some blogs, dunno if you guys heard of this Nick guy.  real big into magical bullshit.  I wouldn't believe in it myself, but something struck a chord just now.

He wrote this bit about talking to an enemy of his, some guy who possessed people, going from one to a next at a whim, and how they're all connected to him.

here's the link  http://recordsofanimpossibility.blogspot.com/2011/08/eternity-versus-immortality.html

Nick goes on later to talk about cutting this guy's network down to pieces.  I don't really understand it.  But...there's something there that really struck me.   The date.  late August.

This fellow, this Redlight, he goes and gets himself mangled to pieces involved in a chess match with something supernatural.  All due to a kid really...It's amazing

here's what I'm talking about  http://thee1eventhhour.blogspot.com/2011/08/free.html

and his words just kept repeating themselves to me

"Don't forget what I said, there's more than one blogger out there that I've gotten my hands on and taken,  'hollowed' or 'redlit' whatever you want to call it."

and it makes sense now,  the red hoodie, the pants,  christ, I've even got bandages like him now.

He's me  or at least was
I was one of the ones taken.  It has to be true.  The mood swings, the Runner paraphernalia, the clothes, and the monster.  I was one the ones 'freed', I can only speculate, but I'm guessing that's how I got that system shock, went into that coma.

None of that matters now, not anymore.  I can't do this, I am just not strong enough.  Even if I had an endless supply of meds, I can't fight this thing, I can't write anymore, i can't do this

so I will embrace him

I will be something I used to be, I can't do otherwise.
because nothing matters now

nothing ever mattered, its all meaningless
the only thing that mattered to me, is that I remember who I am now

and isn't that grand?  - r
I think i'm starting to understand what its been saying

it, him, whoever it is, whatever it is
I think this all happened for a reason

maybe even to help me, well not what happened to her, to Kayleen.

She asked me if I had eaten, i hadn't, not in a few days  so she decided to make something in the kitchen
then it showed up at my window, and it felt so kind so warm this time  i was touching the window before i knew it

and then it told me she had to die, so i struck her,  it wasn't hard not even enough to knock her down
i didn't want to do it

she screamed and i got a faceful of boiling water, i knocked her down
and i took the pot, burned my hands
and well

i just couldn't stop
so i'm all burned, got some wrap up bandages and shit before i ran like hell

it doesnt hurt, which is weird  i dont know why

i j ust dont care about shit anymore

Friday, January 13, 2012

I didntwan to tdo it

I didnt want to   god what do i do now
shit shit shitgod how couldyou how could you let this thing roam free

it coaxedme  it just i wanted its approval

how how the fuck does it do it

i was so scared   begged her to come over

and after she showed
i think i beat her to death with a pot

what the fuck do i donow
i think she really cared

it mademe do it


Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Kind of sucks

These last few days, pretty bad.  Between keeping my eyes peeled for a Faceless thing, working at a damn gas station to pay bills, and going over this apartment with a comb, looking for anything else to help cement in that missing time, now I've got to deal with the fact that my drugs ran out.  No chance for a refill this early, so I'm shit out of luck, not that I could afford them anyway since I have no insurance now...or ever?  I don't really know.  I sort of thought it'd be funny if I had a real nice job beforehand, something professional, and I don't know it.   I regret that this isn't the case, as I looked in my online records and found I worked at some security place for a while.

Been hearing weird things lately too.  Not sure if its external or internal, last night I felt the room drop twenty degrees in seconds, everything just seemed...off,  hard to explain.  Starting to think that its done fucking around and its almost time.  I don't know what to do.  As much as I'd like to be all hardass and say I'd fight him, the thing scares the shit out of me.  I could barely move the last time it appeared.

So whats worse?  Getting slaughtered by some alien creature, or the fact I'll never know what happened to me, and no one else gives a shit?

Wednesday, January 4, 2012


Aha!  Went through a bunch of my shit just today.  Oh the malaise of sifting through things that may or may not be mine.  Found myself something that has that stupid circle with an x through it that everyone seems to identify with. 

Now I've read a few blogs, doing my research as it were, and I get that this means somewhere in my past few months, you know, back when I can't remember.  I knew about the Faceless thing.  This makes me wonder, if I forgot, or rather if IT made me forget, is it worth remembering that missing time at all?  Shit's bowel clenchingly horrific as it is when I saw it before.  This dark, inhuman shape, just looming, just  just looming. 

Fuck I'm no wordsmith, it's hard to explain unless you've had that experience.  The fact that its there, defying existence, defying nature is bad enough, and yet it is so much worse, the sheer..aura I guess, made me hallucinate.  Knowing I could die at any moment.

Still no more signs of it, but I'm still left with so many questions!  So I knew about it before, how did I stumble across it?  Why am I ...well shit, mindwiped, for lack of a better term.  I guess I can put together that this thing, this Faceless thing fucked me up, put me in a coma even, but shit, what about that 'aggressive change' Kayleen talked about?

Shit, I'd be online on the ps3 or something right now if the damn thing wasn't updating for-EVAR.  I just wish I knew  where this rabbithole ends.