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?

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?