Saturday, August 27, 2011

"You need only to change your direction," said the cat

and ate the




Thursday, July 28, 2011

I've been played.

This whole fucking time, He knew where I was, He anticipated it and set up everything so it would end in His fucking FAVOR. I know it.

I wasn't just dropped in the middle of fucking nowhere, oh no. I couldn't have been that lucky. I was left right where he fucking wanted me to, minutes from his mother fucking base.

I was trying to get to Maryland, and I end up in New Jersey.


And to make matters better, I'm being followed. I'm sure it's that same girl who was there when I was in New York. Can't wait to find out which of YOU it is.

I've managed to find a shelter. It isn't too bad here. A little surprised they have any sort of internet connection; maybe I'm just stealing from somewhere else nearby. Who cares.

Food's good. I look clean and decent all things considered. Haven't slept in a couple days, but I'm trying.

I'm alright.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

I'm lost.

I don't know where I am anymore.

Twenty-five dollars wasn't enough.

The driver wouldn't listen to me. No matter how many times I tried to talk to him he wouldn't fucking listen. He only seemed to hear me when it was his turn to speak, and then he would just ignore me.

Twenty-five wasn't enough, he said. It costs more to get to Maryland.

But they said it was twenty-five.

He kicked me out. Said something about fucking cheap homeless people trying to mooch rides off of him.

But I had the money. I wasn't mooching. See, here's the money right here in my hand. He took it anyway. He didn't even take me where I want to go and he fucking thieved my money off of me. I needed that money why doesn't he understand that.

Look how far I've sunk.

I'm sitting on the side of the road somewhere. I don't know what city or what state and whenever I try to ask people where I am or where the nearest shelter is they don't listen to me they just keep walking like I don't exist.

It's so hot out. My skin feels raw even though I'm still wearing my jacket.

My bag feels heavy even though there's nothing inside.

I'm out of food.

Out of water.

I'm sitting in the middle of some city filled with heartless souls and I might as well be sitting in the desert.

I'm half expecting to sit here for hours alone until He shows up, silhouetted by that stupid fucking sun I've grown to hate over these years, when I'm on the verge of death by dehydration or heatstroke or whatever the fuck, and offer me a hand or a tentacle, and I'll find that I have no other choice but to go with him.

If he does show, I might accept.

Quite frankly whatever darkness he'll bring might be welcoming after all this sunlight. He's got me cornered. I'm too tired to resist for much longer.

Until next time. Maybe.

Monday, July 11, 2011

I feel like I've hit a moral low.

I've raided Ray's kitchen for food and taken $25 from her while she's at work. Hopefully she'll never find this blog (I'm surprised she never asked me what I did on my computer all the time) but if she does, hopefully she'll try to understand why I did it. 

Again I find my self in need of a direction. I could go north toward Rochester. I've always wanted to go to Rochester, ever since I received my information packet from RIT. Just because I thought it was beautiful.

Or I could go with my original plan and move south toward Maryland. This honestly is beginning to feel like a bad idea, just because of all I've heard of the FBI and other wacky government agencies getting on peoples' tails. Maryland is just too close to DC and far too much seems to be going on there. 

Philadelphia might be a possibility. But I don't know anyone there and quite frankly that idea scares me a little. 

.....And then there's East. 

I can't go home. Maybe somewhere else. Maybe Rhode Island. Rhode Island is beautiful this time of year. And there are plenty of people.

I guess it depends where the buses are going. All of the buses I've checked don't leave until later this afternoon, so I'll need somewhere to stay until then.

I'm going to the library.

Run fast for your mother, fast for your father
Run fast for your children, for your sisters and brothers
Leave all of your love and your longing behind
You can't carry it with you if you want to survive.

Some parting words for you. Ray loves Florence and the Machine and she's kind-of rubbed off on me. Heh.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

I'm leaving New York. As soon as I possibly can, I'm getting out of here.

I saw something yesterday that scared me. Far too much for me to be comfortable staying with Ray any longer. 

I decided to go downstairs. I felt like I had been in the apartment far too long. I wanted to get some air, since yesterday was such a beautiful day. She lives above a coffee shop, so she gave me a couple dollars to buy something and I sat at a table near the window so I could look outside. Despite the loudness of the city, there was something serene about the whole thing. 

I was about to finish my latte. I looked out.

Across the street there was somebody standing at the curb, just staring at me. I think it was a girl, but it was hard to tell from the distance. She(?) looked like she was dressed normally. Except she was wearing a mask. One of those Venetian 'Carnivale'-type half-masks, covered in sequins and blinding gold trim but still ghostly pale. 


I need to leave. I need to leave. I need to leave.

I have to tell Ray.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011


Yours has been a long and hard journey. Rest in peace.

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Friday, July 1, 2011

A quick update.

I haven't much time to update. 

Trinity: I'm not sure why, but thank you for sticking up for me. I wasn't paying much mind to what he(?) said, but thank you anyway.

I feel as though I've stayed here far too long. Not only are things beginning to feel uneasy again, but I feel that I've outstayed my welcome and am taking Ray's hospitality for granted. She works at Starbucks. There's no way  the money she's making is enough to support me as well as herself, and yet she's been letting me sit here on my own, she's been feeding me, and she hasn't been expecting me to do anything in return. I feel like a freeloader. 

I keep looking out the window as if expecting Him to be there. But we're in an apartment far above the ground. I should be safe. Why don't I feel it?

Monday, June 27, 2011

Feels like it's been a while.

June 15th. How long ago was that? A few weeks ago? It feels longer. So, so much longer.

I've found a home. Well...not exactly. But I'm no longer wandering. After my battery completely failed on my laptop, I thought I was going to go crazy. I felt alone amongst these millions of people. Not a single person to cling to, no one to understand, sympathize. No one to talk to. I was on the verge of exploding from the sheer volume of words.

I'm so grateful of Ray. That she took me in without question...it's made me happier than I could have thought possible since I arrived here. For the first time I felt as though I might actually be able to survive here. Even though I know I must leave soon.

Ray's one of the few people I met in my many internet travels. I've never actually met her before, but we've talked quite a bit on various forums and chatrooms. She doesn't know anything about Slenderman, besides what I told her a long time ago, when I too was first learning of Him. Compared to what I've been through these last few months, her life seems perfect.

I miss my family dearly. I never thought I would. Perhaps the mouse wasn't ready to leave her hole just yet.

Lorraine's body was found in the woods last Sunday. There's nothing much I can say about that. I regret not being able to attend her funeral....but if she had her way, she would forgive me for not being there. She would have said I needn't be burdened by her....

I've started dreaming again; they're not the same dreams I had before. They're clearer, and more realistic. He hasn't appeared in any of them. I think they're dreams of what I'm missing. I had a bad one near the beginning of my trip here: my mother coming down the stairs, seeing the note, breaking down in sobs and screaming to the heavens...I'm not sure what to say about it. I know she misses me, but I can't go back. Not yet. Not if I want them to stay safe and happy.

They're at the beach now, if my newest dream is correct. Everyone's gone with them: my grandmother, my aunts and uncles, my cousins, my brother and his friend, my mother. My father is there too. He vowed never to speak to my mother's family after they divorced. In a sick way, it's almost as though my absence has brought everyone together. My mother still looks...I can't describe it.

Ray's brought lunch. Until next time.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

No longer going as planned.

It's been five days since I arrived in New York City.

Since then, everything has gone wrong.

I was mugged Sunday night. He didn't take the laptop, nor was I hurt, which I suppose was a blessing (who knows what could have happened to me wandering the streets of New York at night). He was a petty thief, probably a druggie; only interested in the money I had on me at the moment. But he had a knife, and my knife is somewhere back at the Amtrak station several hundred miles away from here. He took all of it. Meaning I have nothing for a bus ticket, nothing for coffee and nothing for a new weapon to keep me safe. I may soon have to resort to stealing myself. All I have left are a few crushed packages of Poptarts to eat, my books, and you.

Until I can find some way to pay, I can't move any great distances. New York is a big place, so I should be alright for a few days longer without being found. I need somewhere to stay, somewhere safer than an alleyway.

I need to cut my hair. It's freaking disgusting and it gets in the way. Another act of defiance against my father and I'm not even with him anymore? Ha. Guess old habits die hard.

Clerk is kicking me out of the shop for not buying anything. Will update when I get the chance.

Saturday, June 11, 2011


That was the longest walk of my life. 

I've never done something like that before. I just walked out of my house in the middle of the night and that was it. But my house is so far from the train station it's a miracle I didn't pass out from exhaustion. Or get mugged along the way. I suppose even the corrupt and destitute need to sleep.

Not I.

I'm surprised no one questioned me when I arrived. I guess they often see people my age traveling on their own. They did take away my knife, though. I hadn't thought it was that conspicuous; even after I explained it was for self-defense for my walk here they refused to let me keep it. I'll have to purchase another when I finally reach New York.

It's almost 8 am. We've been traveling for a while. I haven't seen anything or anyone. But I can't sleep yet. Just because I'm on a moving train doesn't mean I'm safe.

I haven't got a lot of money to make this trip. I had saved $120 from Christmas until now, that I had planned on spending on something frivolous, like anime. Forty of that is gone, and another twenty-five must be saved for my bus ride when I finally depart from the city. I have some idea of where I'll be going next--it's simply a matter of whether the other factors will be in my favor. I'll also need some amount else for a new pocket knife, and more if I want to buy food, and more for coffee in order for me to stay at a Starbucks or other with free internet. I'm not losing any of you just yet. My savings are dwindling already if I think of it that way. I might need some way to make money. When I was little I had a dream of making it to Broadway when a big-time producer saw me singing on a streetcorner. Wasn't I cute? Besides, that would attract all the wrong kinds of attention.

If music can soothe the most savage of beasts, why can it not be used as a weapon as well?

O, the nonsense I speak when I'm low on sleep. I'll have to get used to it. 

No outlets on the train. Running low on batteries. I will update as soon as I can.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

shes dead

lorraine is dead my only friend

her mother was the one that called me said that she was gone no body just gone there was blood on the windowsill of her room i don't understand she lived on the top floor of her apartment it should have been safe why wasnt it

why didnt she listen to me

why wasnt i able to warn her save her she had so many problems but she used to joke about it why didnt she take me seriously

why her why not me

i found out this morning and haven't been able to stop crying all day. i hate how everyone acts like they don't notice she's gone. oh, she's just out sick again, it's no big deal.

i can't do this. i can't let this happen again. not to anyone else that i care about.

i'm leaving. in the next few days. i'll have to find an easy way to sneak out of the house.

there are things to do. letters to write telling everyone not to worry, especially my father. i can't bear to think about what he'll say to my mother when i'm gone, so it'll have to be good. homework doesn't matter for now. 

i wonder what i should bring with me. a couple changes of clothes should be fine enough. a sweater in case it gets cold or rainy. this laptop. it will be imperative, no matter how heavy. you are my connection. you are my hope. 

a knife.

and books. i must bring books. i know it will weigh me down, but i can't live without them. my books have become everything to me. i cannot bring myself to leave them behind. i'm a smart girl, so everyone has told me, and i don't want to lose that yet.

i've managed to buy an amtrak ticket to new york city. i know i can't stay there long; everyone thinks it's safe there but the more people who turn there for solace the more dangerous it becomes and the more likely it is that HE can find you there. HE's smart. HE catches on quickly. HE can't stay confused by the tall buildings forever. i'm hoping to move farther south, and nyc is a good transit point.

i don't want to feel like this is the end of my life here. i want to come back, no matter how horribly i've spoken of this city, this home, this family before. i want to return, someday, when it's finally safe and i don't have to run. i'll come back and my parents won't have to worry about me anymore. (i still want to send them letters when i get the chance. i can't have them panicking about me.) i'll finish my education. i've lost some chance of getting into college, missing my final year of high school like i will. but i'm intelligent. an ib student. they won't be able to deny that. i'll do my years in college and get a good job like my parents always wanted them to. and i'll be an author on the side. writing's a passion of mine and i'm not going to give that up, not even for them, not even after what i'm about to put them through.

this isn't the end. it's just the beginning of something new. 

if one is not eaten by the labyrinth halfway through, it leads you not to the end but back to the beginning.

or something like that.

i'll be back.

i miss you already lorraine. sleep well.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Come on~

Not at school today again? 

And now you're not answering your phone, either? 

Quit messing with me, silly~

You're sitting there, reading this and every text I've sent you for the last hour and refusing to reply to them, and laughing your ass off.

You've always thought this was funny. Well, it is. I'm cracking up too! You're hilarious!

Now pick up the phone~!




Monday, June 6, 2011

He followed me to school today.

Well, not exactly. My mother drove me there and He just happened to be standing the next street over.

Honestly, I wouldn't have cared. I wasn't frightened. At least, not for myself.

That street happens to be the one where my (only) friend lives.

And she wasn't in school today.

Needless to say, I almost had a panic attack.

But I called her as soon as I could, and she picked up. Said she's had a cold for the last couple days and she's trying to sleep it off. She hasn't noticed anything unusual, though her cough sounded fucking horrible.

My own cough isn't doing as well as I thought. I've been coughing up bile the last hour, in fact.

If you're reading this (and I REALLY hope you're not) don't you dare scare me like that again. And keep your windows locked. At the very least, it'll keep the proxies out.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Another one of those strange days

when everything goes the way it's supposed to and it seems as though life might actually be going your way.

It wasn't special at all. But the idea that I had one Sunday that wasn't terrible, one that didn't end in me crying myself to sleep or raging internally at my parents for a good three hours before exhausting myself....it happens so rarely that it actually unnerves me.

Spent my afternoon at the bookstore and got a new book about Existentialism. Stuffed clams for dinner. Ice cream for dessert. I'm not feeling confused or angry or afraid; if anything, there's just that lingering twinge of sadness and doubt that never quite goes away, but I'm starting to get used to it and it doesn't bother me quite as much.

I laughed today. With my mother and brother, no less. Not a little chuckle of agreement. A real laugh...and it felt amazing.

I feel revitalized. Like there is something brighter to look forward to tomorrow...and there's not a six-and-a-half-foot-tall God-knows-what lurking outside your window. Only flowers and birds and a pleasant breeze and sunshine, just like it used to be...a few months ago? That's really how long it's been?

I've looked back at my posts from the beginning of this blog. My first thoughts are only of how stupid I was, but then I realize, it's not that I was stupid. I've just grown up. I've learned more since March...more than I ever really needed to know.

I'm not trying to make this sound like a goodbye. I'm still going to be here tomorrow.

I'm sure of it.

Friday, June 3, 2011

What I find funniest of all

is that ever since I've gotten followers, the people who had commented previously on my blog (Modus Operandi and gebrochen Bauer, as far as the named ones go) have since fallen away. The proxies (or maybe truly just trolls?) have gone silent.

I'm not sure whether this is a good thing or a bad thing.

No mood to talk right now. May update later this evening or tomorrow morning.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011


Of a more literal type.

Western Massachusetts was hit by three or so tornadoes today. Downtown is completely torn up. I spent most of my time in the storage room of a local Barnes and Noble.

Sick to my stomach.

If I thought I didn't sleep well before, tonight is going to be a doozy.

It's a wake up call, in a lot of ways. There is a lot more danger than just Him out there that I need to worry about. Running may end up being even more difficult than I thought.

But I don't have time. I need to figure this shit out, and soon.

Do svidanya.

Tuesday, May 31, 2011
















Saturday, May 28, 2011

It's Funny

but the better and better I feel, the quieter this world seems to become.

It's early in the morning. Perfectly silent with the exception of my laptop's fan whirring away. Outside it's gray, cloudly. I can't hear a single bird chirping. There's no wind blowing. Everything is still. Like I've been stuck in a single moment in time, just my laptop and I, and all of you. Frozen. Trapped.

I feel like I want to scream. Just to break the silence, to know I'm still here, still alive, still thriving. Am I thriving? No....that's a silly notion. To thrive is to be truly happy with the life you are leading. If that is the case, there are very, very few people in this world who thrive. Perhaps none at all.

This week has been wonderful, better than some, even, that I had known before I'd become threatened with this...is there even a way to describe something you still doubt to exist? Even if it is the tiniest shred of doubt?
and yet everything else seems so much more oppressive, more hostile. I feel people staring at me when I'm in public. I don't know why. I haven't crossed any such threshold that would constitute that...yet. But still. It makes my skin crawl. Like there are maggots just under what is visible, squirming and twisting and gnawing their way out of my flesh, out at into the air and leaving me...

I'm rambling again.

I can't help but feel like all of my problems stem from one thing: that in these last couple years I have found life boring. It's hard. If I'm as intelligent as everyone else believes, if I think of things that no one else bothers with and my brain is constantly whirring in no particular direction at hyperspeed, I'm constantly seeking a way to branch out, to expand my thinking until I can latch on to one thing and put it to good use. But I'm not able to get out, to be independent. It's turned me into a sort of thrill-seeker. Nothing's exciting to me anymore unless it's new, potentially dangerous and far, far away from what I'm used to in everyday life.

This is what worries me. Because the best days I can remember since I've gotten this blog--far before I'd gotten it--are the past week. When He has been following me. I've felt, not alive, not yet, but more alive than I have probably since I started high school. Only now that there is danger in my life (is it even real?) do I feel like I have a chance to make something of myself.

And yet the Lingering Fear still traipses alongside my shadow.

I'm tired still. Perhaps breakfast would do me some good. Then I can put my feelings more in order than they are now.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

I Have a Theory.

Stupid theory, but something, at the very least.

I think He feeds off negative energy. Well, not directly. But in a way that negative emotion sort-of...draws Him in, I guess? Or it makes it easier for Him to find you?

I didn't see Him at all yesterday. Either I had a good time, and that's why He didn't appear, or I had a good time because He didn't appear. I'm leaning toward the former.

And then today.

Today went fine until after school, when the tennis match began.

I had the slightest notion that I wasn't playing my best, my doubles partner was beginning to irk me, and I hadn't eaten lunch today so I was nauseous as well as irritated.

He wasn't close, oh no, nowhere near as close as He had been that first night. He was rather far away actually, in the playground at the park where our courts are located. There weren't any children there, but there were a few nearby watching a baseball game. No one seemed to notice Him but me. I lost a point because of Him. Even after I managed to tear my head away, even on the ride home, I could still feel those horrid tingles running up my spine.

And then I got home.

And then I got home.

Home, home. Home only brings work for me. My English IA draft is due tomorrow. I need to prepare the beginning of my Math IA (of which I barely have any survey results; why the fuck are there no students that blog at my school!?) and I have a packet of work on statistics (I think) to do. Not difficult, but time-consuming. And I still haven't slept well for the last couple days(weeks? months?), so I would be perfectly content in falling asleep right now.

And it's all so overwhelming that it makes me want to cry. Scratch that, I'm crying right now. I would demand another day off in a heartbeat, but a) my mother would never let me, and b) I would be letting my tennis team down on the last match of the season.

I can't handle this.

I want it to be over.

The chills are setting in again.

From there my theory goes in a million different directions. If He somehow embodies the negative feelings and throws them back at you with full force, if He uses the negative energy to eat away at your positive energy until there's nothing left. But gradually, it seems, He'll make you believe that you have nothing left and that He can bring you to a better place. Then He will take you by the hand and lead you away. And you know what happens from there. Don't you?

What a load of mindless blabber. To work, I must away.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Slowly But Surely,

it seems, I'm becoming less and less alone.

I love you guys. Really, I do.

Today's trip was uneventful where it should be, and nothing short of amazing in all others. I'm a little upset I couldn't find something to waste my shopping money on (though I almost bought a pair of hipster glasses at Hot Topic at a pit stop on our way home, ha), but it doesn't matter much. The museum was beautiful, as was the Shubert Theatre. Memphis was just...stupendous, I suppose, for lack of a better word.

I haven't seen Him at all today. At best I've actually managed to confuse Him with all my moving around....at worst, He's toying with me.

The trouble with comment posting is persisting, so following The Mad Ventriloquist (and a few others): the e-mail address I'll be using is blackroseneko@aim.com. I've had the account for a while, and you're welcome to send comments or anything else to me if you're having trouble as well.

It's funny how normal everything feels right now.

It doesn't seem right.

In Case of Any Interest

There seems to be an issue over here with either my computer or Blogger. It's not letting me comment on any other blogs. So I'm leaving my comments here.

Bondie: That's what I thought too. Just...be prepared for the unexpected, okay? I wasn't. I'm still not.

The Mad Ventriloquist: It's difficult. After all you've learned, all you've been told, it is hard to break the silence. After all, remaining quiet means remaining hidden. But then there is another problem. If you are silent for too long, no one will hear you when you cry out for help. I am trying my best. Support is all I can ask for.

I will be on a bus to New York City in less than an hour. This may be the greatest I've felt in a very long time.

Monday, May 23, 2011

Written Sunday, May 22nd, 7:30 am.

My mother completely shut me down when she told me my favorite cafe isn't open on Sundays. My modem has been dead since last night. I'm writing this in advance in the hopes that when the wifi returns I can post it.

It happened again. After all this time trying to forget and think of something else, after a week of calm, a week of rain. After I'd finally started to feel just a little bit better about myself and what was going on around me.

The bastard apparently doesn't like being ignored by His victims. To the point that He'll go out of his way to make sure we know He's here.

Or perhaps I never stopped thinking about Him at all and this is the end result.

Anyway, cut to the chase.

He was in my room last night.

Not outside my window. In my room.

The internet died some time last night, before He showed up, so I hadn't been doing much of anything. I might have been considering texting a friend so I wouldn't feel so alone, because I wasn't able to sleep.

He was just sort-of.....there. In the corner, right beside my bookcase.

Thinking back on it now, I suppose it was something akin to a schoolyard bully making His presence known to a new kid. Just sort-of...looming, without taking action,. An ultimatum, maybe.

It's amazing how, with some things, you're only frightened of them until they're actually right in front of you. I think I was frightened: I couldn't move or hide or run and I wouldn't dare take my eyes of Him lest I look away and He actually does something. But I think that's just what happens when He's THAT close. It's what He does. Your heart doesn't pound, your mind doesn't race, but you're still paralyzed, not so much with fear as with sick fascination. This is probably why children follow Him so easily. This wasn't by any means a good thing, though. I was still in the danger zone.

I blinked.

He was gone.

The shuddering and nausea and the heart-and-mind assault returned,

I very nearly went into the bathroom and swallowed the half a bottle of Advil that was left on the counter. No matter how much stress I've been through, never, ever have I had any sort of suicidal tendencies.

This is serious.

I've spent the last few hours pacing in the kitchen. I can't stand sitting in my own room right now. I'll think too much about it. Probably going to sleep on the couch tonight.

Something's dawned on me. I've realized that, if I have any desire to live, I need to stop doing things the way I have been. No more denial. Real or not, after an experience like that, it's better to be safe that sorry.

The only problem is what.

What can I do?

I want to fight this. I want to live. But I can't run. I'm not capable of being a runner. I wouldn't know how to take care of myself were I to leave my home and family.

There are some of you who haven't run, and have managed to survive. Meaning I have a chance still.

Do you ever feel like you were chosen to be one of them? That there's a reason why all this has happened to you? Why He is in your life?

In my eyes, every one of you is special. There's something about you that makes you unique. You have expertise. Physical prowess. The wistom of ages. Immunity, however temporary. Music. Music is a very powerful tool and should not be underestimated: it can drive the most grounded to insanity, and soothe the most savage of beasts.

You all have skills.

What have I? An unhealthy obsession with existentialism? Books? Brains? It is undoubtable that knowledge is our strongest asset, but what use does it have when we do not know how to use it?

There is something else I admire you all for.

You have accepted. You have allowed yourself to become soldiers and runners because you know that the threat is real, very real.

How long did you doubt yourself? Do you doubt it still? Is there any way to fully overcome it? As calm as I may seem now, I'm doubting every second. If I'm speaking to real people, to liars, to non-entities created by my own mind. If I'm even writing (or typing) at this very moment. If what I'm seeing, hearing, feeling, smelling, tasting on the air is real or just a lucid dream or not even a dream, a false reality, one somehow created by Him to blind me further from the truth.

Do you have direction? Do you have answers?

Please, don't ignore me any longer. A comforting word alone will keep me on my way.


Saturday, May 21, 2011

O Rapture

Anyone else enjoy the end of the world? What a doozy. 6:00 pm. EST came and went without a cloud in the sky. In fact, weather here was even better today than it has been all week.

No, I haven't slept.

No, this week has not been good. But I suppose the last couple days have been better. I even won yesterday's tennis match, all physical damage aside.

I can't stop thinking.

God fucking damn it why can't I stop thinking.

I need to think of better things.

I've been reading Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray recently. I'm considering going back and finishing The Ultimate Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy because I put it down last summer and haven't gotten past the beginning of Book Three. Douglas Adams is like an idol to me. A literary genius.

Haven't touched Lovecraft in a while. Don't think I ever will again. Maybe I should finish Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

I'm analysing House of Leaves for my IB Extended Essay. It's not due until next spring, so I've got plenty of time. Studying the Iranian Revolution for my History Internal Assessment. No Exit and The Metamorphosis for my English IA, as I mentioned before.

...What else have I done.

Is that all, really? Just weather and books? Maybe being a genius isn't as exciting as I thought. Maybe I'm not even a genius. My gears just move in overdrive.

I haven't done anything particularly creative with my time lately. No drawing. No writing, other than this blog and a few Facebook/Twitter posts of no real consequence. I don't even have internet access let alone texting on my phone, so there's no point in having a Twitter.

I've recently rediscovered the joys of German rock. Make fun of me if you will, but Tokio Hotel's old albums aren't that bad. Rammstein has an odd calming effect on me as well.

I find a lot of relaxation in copying phrases, lyrics, poems, anything inspiring or interesting, into notebooks. I guess I've been doing that a lot. But it hasn't much significance. I just find it soothing.

I don't understand. My mother used to love seeing all the amazing things I could create (so she said; I see them only as scribbles now). What do I have now? What do I do now? Sit in my room all day reading, shy away from the sun, the outside, only going out in the rain.

No matter what I do, whatever it is, I can never apply myself to it. I never give it my all. Every part of my life is half-assed. I have the potential. So why the fuck don't I use it? What good am I?

Going on a trip to New York City with a bunch of people from school on Wednesday. That might give me something to blog about for once. Enough with my angsty bitching, now, and fair thee well.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Hardly slept last night. Woke up late this morning. Going to be late for school again. Homework's not done.

What else is new.

Nothing like...last Friday's occurence has happened this week. But it's also been raining like crazy.

That doesn't actually...keep Him away, does it? The rain? I always thought that was just a cop-out for vlogs so that they could do "momentary ceasefire before shit really hits the fan" episodes.

Why would He be stopped by something as trivial as water from the sky?

Either it really does, or I truly have lost my mind.

Holy shit am I late.

Saturday, May 14, 2011


No no no no.

None of this is real. Why don't I understand that. They are not real. He is not real.



They're trying to convince me that He's real.

No. He's real. Why would they be trying so hard to fight him? To escape him?

They're not! It's all fake! They write them because they have nothing better to do!

Sense perception. Seeing is believing.

He is a figment of overactive imaginations. So am I imagining Him? If he's not there, I'm going crazy. If he is there, I'm going to go crazy. Or die, whichever comes first.

No. He is not REAL. I know that he's not. He was the creation of a stupid fucking photoshop on Something Fucking Awful by Victor fucking Surge. Whoever the fuck that is. A fable.

He's real if you think He is.

Maybe I do think He is.

I think, therefore I am. All that is real is what I believe.

He is real.

But He is not.

Do I believe?

I want to see. Then I will believe. Didn't I already see?

Before midnight. Friday the 13th of May. Outside my window. There was...something. Something pale and dark and thin and just barely lingering on the side of the window facing the neighbor's house. Just a shoulder....and half a head. Almost glowing, reflected by the light coming from next door. Like the halo of an angel of death.


No. I don't want to see that. He wasn't there to begin with. He. Is. Not. Real.

Besides, I'll die if I see Him. I don't want. Don't.

But you want to know the truth.

The truth is in my mind. I just need to find it.

What if He is the Truth?

He's not. He's a lie. Never existed, never will. He lies.

If he lies to you, then, he must be real. Must have some concreteness on this plane.

Therefore He is Real. He is Truth.

Weigh your options.

How silly I am. This is simple enough. I'm just overthinking things again. If He is only real if I believe He is real, then I must simply stop believing.

Nor more Slenderblogs for me. I shall abandon every single one of them. Marble Hornets DVD? In the trash. EverymanHYBRID, TribeTwelve, Angel's Game? Unsubscribed.
No more reading this bullshit.

All of it, gone. Gone gone gone. Bye-bye.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011


from the second tennis match this week. Exhausted. Ended up pulling a tendon in my wrist, so it's kinda hard to type (or do anything) without it hurting like a bitch. But, there's work to be done. So I'll suck it up, take a couple pills with some coffee to keep me awake, and get that shit done. Because what other choice do I have.

As you may have already guessed (if you've read at all: as far as I know there hasn't been a single pageview since the last time I was here. And no, I'm not including you.) the last post on this blog was not me. I suppose I should be more worried about getting hacked again (or whatever the fuck happened), but I'm far too tired and have far too much work to do to care very much. I'll think about it later.

Topic: Dependence in No Exit and The Metamorphosis, and how this directly ties into the main aspects of existentialism.

Thesis Statement: In Jean-Paul Sartre's "No Exit" and Franz Kafka's "The Metamorphosis", the theme of dependence (or interdependence) between characters is played out to directly reflect the aspects of existentialism that were the bases(?plural of "basis", find another word?) of their work.

Dependence in The Metamorphosis:
~Family relies on Gregor for support--> sole source of income
~After becoming a bug, Gregor must depend on his family to support HIM as he is no longer capable of working or even coming out of his room
~Possible: Gregor's dependence on the portrait as his sole connection to the outside world???

Dependence/Interdependence in No Exit
~Characters must rely on one another to judge them--> lack of mirrors (physical); characters judge one another as to whether or not they belong in Hell (as Estelle insists she does not...initially)
~Left alone in a single room--> only connections left to society are in that room with them
~Anything else???

Isn't it obvious.

I probably should have asked for help on this when I had the chance. The response is fucking tomorrow and I don't have my act together. What. The. Fuck.

If I can be deathly ill for just ONE DAY this week, I will be eternally grateful to the higher powers.

Monday, May 9, 2011

Well, hello.

Someone's had a rough day. There there, nothing to fear. Not just yet.

Poor thing. What is it that you fret over? Do you feel hurt? Alone? Scared? Is it the past? present? Or perhaps the future?

That's it, isn't it. You're dwelling on the future. How far? An hour? A day? Weeks, months, years, a whole lifetime?

Think of what's expected of you, girlie. You can't just be educated, you have to be the supreme. Top honors. International diplomas. Recognition. College. That's when you decide exactly what you're going to be in life...but you won't choose, will you. You'll only do what's expected of you. What they tell you will be good, what will contribute to society, what will hold your family together, what will make money.

And that's what it's all about when you boil down to it. Money. Money and success. You have to have a better job than everyone else, have to have a higher income, bigger house, fancier car, more beautiful glamorous life and oh, you wish that came easily, don't you? It's nice to be smart, I bet. It's nice to be a genius. But genius gets you nowhere if you can't use it for anything. Otherwise you're just another eccentric, a bum living in the dangerous low-class side of town, day in and day out just scribbling, realizing things that won't matter a damn to anyone else in the world but you. God forbid you ever, ever make something of yourself, because that's just not quite as fun, is it.

But what can you do? You fear what will come of you if you can't meet expectations. If you fail to succeed, then you fail the universe. What little purpose you have now is nothing compared to later. When you are old enough to contribute, and yet you don't? You're simply a blockage in other people's lives. Nothing more than an irritation, a bug, if you will. Too large to be squashed but too small to matter, destined to die of its own accord.

And then what happens, hm?

Now now, quit the tears. I'm not saying anything you didn't already know.

Unless...there's something else you're worrying over?

Oh, I see. This isn't your primary concern? Or perhaps, just one of many?

You want to escape, that's it. But from what? You feel that these walls hold you in? Like a tomb, I suppose. You'll die in this cell of a home. Who can contribute when they have no chance to find their potential?

I'm wrong, am I?

Then it's not the outside you want to escape from.

It is the Self.

You're confused, scared by the mechinations of your own mind. You want to know how it works, why you think what you think. Why no one else thinks like you do, and if that is the case who can you go to for help. You would give anything to simply flip a switch and be brainless for just an hour, just a few minutes of simplicity. No worrying about the complexities of life. No worrying if your mind has a mind, if what you see isn't always what you get, if nothing is real at all and life, the universe, everything is simply an illusion. You can set aside purpose. Just be. Wouldn't you like that, girlie?

Too bad things don't work like that.

And yet you still sit there? Shall you let the tears fall until they erode you inside and out? Let existence steal the reigns as you feel sorry for yourself for all eternity? Even past your expiration, what shall you think of yourself? "Oh, how I wish I had acquired, had done, had been!"

If you dislike the walls then break them down. Keep an open mind about everything so you don't have to worry about what is real and what is not. Success is false, society matters not, Fate is a paper shackle. Live by your own convictions. Face consequence as it comes; there will be consequence still if you remain as you are.
Stand. Dry the tears. Step out. Face the world. Let the wind whisk you up and away. You will find solace outside your shell.

The answer may lie as close as your open window.

Now see? Haven't you a good head on your shoulders.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Happy fuckin' Easter.

Figures I've been blessed (hahahahahahaha) with good weather every year, and it has to be today of all days that I wake up to nothing but fog outside my window.

Fuck it. I'm staying inside.

I don't care how much my mother bitches at me. I am not leaving this room.

And in response to your last comment: I have no mirrors.

I threw the last one out months ago.


Saturday, April 23, 2011

When Was This?

Difficult to read. Copying it as best I can from the notebook I found it in.

April (illegible). Time: somewhere before nine pm.

We were on our way home from (illegible) when we hit a pothole and blew out our back tire. in the midle of nowhere. Inside car lights aren't working, so I'm writing by the light of the emergency flashers. Dad's going nuts and blaming society at irresponsible Americans. For a pothole in the middle of the road? Really!?
Admittedly a little scared. Road(?) we're on is right in the woods. Not many cars driving by, takes a good two minutes between seeing them. Dad is still bitching, this time about coyotes and foxes and other things that hunt in the woods at night.
At least I'm not alone.
Gotten quiet again. Dad's cell rang and made me jump. Still waiting on the AAA guys to get here. I wonder whose woods(words?) are these?
Just heard a (illegible) somewhere out there. I'm going in the car. It's dark. Can't write. Too afraid to keep sitting outside.
Dad made me get out of the car, something about drunk drivers hitting us. It's getting cold. Writing against a tree but i cant see what im writing. Hard to see much(?).
All things aside, it's a beautiful night. (illegible) lingering over the trees

9:21 pm.
Back on the road. Cant se.
Dad's flipping out again. Hell if i care about what. Probably his job again. Thank god for iPods.

My handwriting here is so bad even I can only barely read it. I can't remember what day this was and the date is too scribbled for me to tell. I don't even remember it happening. Not really.

My father immigrated from Iran thirty years ago. He's a US citizen now, but he loves finding things that he hates about the government, the economy, etc. etc. I personally just think he's a crabby old man who needs to find a girlfriend. If my parents were still together I probably would've....done something drastic by now.

Friday, April 22, 2011

Good Friday

What's so good about it. We're celebrating the day that a man was nailed to a cross for saying how great it would be to be nice to people for a change. Forgive me if I'm offending anyone with my agnostic ways. I don't have much faith in anything.

Yesterday's hike was largely uneventful, though I think I caught a cold in the process. The little bit of countryside and forest that we saw was nice. I think the most interesting part of the trail was seeing all the graffiti, though. Someone had scribbled all over the picnic table we sat at for lunch: "All your base are belong to us", "Serj Tankian FTW", and "why do they always send the poor?" stood out particularly. Whoever had been there before must've been huge System of a Down fans. Along one of the bridges someone had also spraypainted the last lines from Robert Frost's "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening".

But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep.

Why do I feel like this should speak to me so much.

Part of me wishes that we could've gone farther down the trail. We never truly reached the woods...no, not really. We were close, though. I could tell. I stared down that path so many times on our journey that I could see them. Something about still being able to see the houses through that thin covering of trees just ruined it.

They were calling to me. My name, whispered harshly on the wind.

I didn't answer.

Should I have?

I'm confused. Sickly. I should still be asleep.

Away with ye, spirits, for thou shalt bring me torture only.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011


Not in much of a mood to update, but then again, when am I? I've barely a cheery post on this thing. I only seem to want to post when I'm bored out of my skull or emotionally unstable. Whenever I want to bitch about something or decry the unfairness of the world and hell why can't it just be the way I want it all the time and never change. Fat lazy elitist overemotional teenage bitch that I am.

Spring break. Nothing to do. Getting dragged around by my parents left and right. I haven't seen any of my friends since I left school on Friday (excepting the tennis match yesterday, but that doesn't really count, we were all so busy getting ready for the matches; my mom took me home immediately afterward too, so I never got a chance to talk to anyone). Thank god the counselor planned that trip for Thursday, otherwise I don't know what I would do. We're going to be going hiking along this trail a few towns north of here. It's amazing. Seventeen miles; and though we won't be going the whole way, we'll at least be going more than the quarter-mile my parents can tolerate. Maybe someday I'll walk the entire thing. That would be amazing. The counselor's also planning to pack a picnic lunch to have somewhere along the way. Tennis match at three, then we're going out for pizza for dinner, then to a poetry slam later that night. This is all going to be in one day, too. Not since convention have I been so excited to get the fuck away from my family.

I would never tell them, oh god no, but....I feel like they're part of the reason why I feel so grounded. I'm constantly dreaming up places I want to go, things I want to do; but money or personal issues always get in the way. Everything I want to do, it has to be with my family. They hold me down. I need to be out, be free. I'm not going to spend my whole life holed up in the house. I'm not going to be a doctor or a mathematician or a physicist or, god forbid, a philosopher. No more Sartre or Kant or Nietzsche once I'm grown, oh no. I'm going places. I'm going to see the world. And I will not let them stop me. I'd like to see them fucking try.

Friday, April 15, 2011

Seeing Through.

First off, I'd like to say I'm honored to finally have followers. Makes me feel...well, acknowledged.

Now, to my main point today. This is for the Anons that constantly stalk my blog for openings to make "witty" comments and copypaste literary quotes when it seems appropriate.

Cut it the fuck out.

I accepted your existence. I played your little game. Then I asked nicely for you to leave me be. Then I asked in a not-so-nice manner. And now you've decided to take it to the next level? Really? Which of you smartasses got my address, hm? I figured at least one of you is someone I know. My friends are the only ones that know about my blog and none of them, as far as I know, have bothered to look at it. Unless, by deduction, one of you trolls is a friend. Or all of you. Like, for example, and darling I'm NOT singling you out.

Mr. or Miss Operator-Symbol Spammer. Yeah, I'm talking to you.

You think I'm naive. You think I don't know what you're trying to do. Well, hun, you're making it PAINFULLY obvious. And it's not working in the least. Perhaps it's you, Lorraine. And I swear to god if it is I will tattoo the damn things to your eyelids when we go back to school. With a spork.

Also. "One ghost down, more soon?" If I may, everyone around me is very much alive. You don't scare me, nyah nyah nyahnyah nyah.

Now, to Modus Operandi. I like the touch you add to your comments. They've actually become fun to read and research, nerd that I am. But you should use your copypasting talents for something more productive. Trying to spook me with your existential ramblings is like fighting fire with fire. Seems like a good idea at first, until you realize you've just fueled the flames.

You were entertaining for a few minutes when no one read this. You've outstayed your welcome. Now move along.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

No Mood For Thinking of Titles

Sorry about the minor freak-out I had in the last post. I'm not really sure what came over me. Having a bad morning, probably. I still haven't been getting much sleep, and it seems my mother's begun to notice. She's threatening to take my laptop away if I don't go to bed when I'm supposed to. She thinks that's all I do when I get home, chat with friends online. She doesn't realize how time-consuming all this IB homework is. She also doesn't seem to understand that I have no friends. Well, not compared to the friends she has, or the friends my brother has. All of my closest friends left after middle school ended and went to different high schools as me; some of them don't even talk to me anymore because they think their school is better than mine. Granted, it is. If only the 20- IB students in my school could be transported somewhere nicer than that inner-city dumping ground. All my other "friends" aren't very close; I don't see them outside of school, we don't hang out. I really only have one friend I can really call a friend.

Lately I've been really worried about her. She's had....problems for a long time--as long as I've known her, in fact. I can't really talk about it. She's been going to counseling for a while and it seemed she had finally gotten better. This last week, though, has made me reconsider. As little sleep as I've been getting, she's gotten even less; she's even told me she went an entire night without sleeping. She doesn't look like she's been eating lately, either. She's constantly gazing out the window. No one seems to notice. She gets her work done and her grades are on par with, if not better than, mine. But since the beginning of middle school when I first met her she was the only person who ever really "gets" me. That, or she just politely listens to all my insane ramblings and cynical points of view and my weird philosophical questions that can't seem to be answered by anyone and has never complained. Regardless, she's always kinda been there for me, and I really admire her for putting up with my bullshit for so many years.

If this keeps going I might go back to the adjustment counselor for a talk. I dont' want anything to happen.

My own counseling kind-of fell through. She never called my mother. I'm keeping up with the stress-relief exercises, but they're not doing much. Maybe if I just do what I'm supposed to everything will be okay.


Monday, April 11, 2011


Slept horribly again.

Don't wanna go to school.

Don't wanna.

Chinese essay three hundred characters Math IA falling behind in history biology homework is too difficult tennis match today loser LOSERLOSERLOSER im gonna lose english essay four hundred words NO EXIT THE OUTSIDER how they are siimilar gottta take a shower gotta clean my room eat sleepsleepsleepeytoosleepydontwanna go.

Don't make me go.

I should be there by now.

Friday, April 8, 2011


Saturday, April the Second. 2 pm.

Yesterday started off terrifically. Granted, the opening ceremony and state caucases were boring as all Hell; too much sitting and standing and clapping and sitting some more. But the rave was amazingly fun, More fun than I'd had in a very long time.

Like it matters anymore.

The dance ended at 11:30. My friend was complaining of a headache, so she left a little earlier. It was way too hot in the ballroom. A bunch of kids were wandering outside. The hotel has this "green roof", with grass and stone paths and this beautiful gazebo. It was nice.

We decided to follow suit.

I don't know what it could have been. The adrenaline rush, the overtiredness, the caffeine. Evidently no one else saw besides me, so I must have been hallucinating.

There was someone standing at the gazebo. In business attire. Which at this conference wasn't something uncommon to see. There were teenagers running around in suits everywhere.

Then we got closer.

He....he didn't have a face.

Then I blinked and he was gone. Just like that.

I didn't make a scene. I didn't scream or run. I was seeing things. Shivers up my spine, maybe, and the others were kinda poking me and asking what I was staring at. I didn't bother looking back.

Slept soundly, woke up in the morning with a killer stomachache that went away after coffee and Munchkins. Had fun at the panels, good lunch. Decided to take a nap instead of going to the next round of caucases. Other friends are off doing whatever-the-fuck, one is at her IB English presentation.

I'm alone in the hotel room.

I can see the green roof from the window. No one out there now. It looks really nice in the aftenoon sunlight. Decided to wreak a little havok and threw an Operator symbol out the window just for the lulz. Can't wait to see where it ends up.

Comfy here.

Gonna take a nap now.

Journal entry from last weekend. Make sense of it as you will, with your "pseudo-philosophical bullshit". Couldn't've said it better myself.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011


Was going to be explaining to you what happened over the weekend., because, well, something weird happened on Friday night, and it hasn't quite stopped bothering me yet. But something happened to me today that scared me even more. However, I won't be explaining either of those today. I'm far too tired. Barely gotten any sleep since last week. Bitte, meine rastlose Geister, try to understand.

Away for now. G'night.

Friday, April 1, 2011


Today's the day. I'm off to the convention. Can't wait. Not much time to post this, gotta go to school in a few minutes.

Probably won't be on the computer at all this weekend, unless I can get ahold of one of the hotel's public computers, which is unlikely. I'll be writing in my journal the whole time, though, and will probably post my writings at the end of the weekend when I get home. Pray we have no homework today. PleaseohpleaseohpleasealmightyIBteachershavemercyonyourlowlystudent.

Might take my camera with me. This is going to be AWESOME.

Peace OUT, muthafuckas, the public awaits. <3

Thursday, March 31, 2011


Up early again today. Shitty night's sleep last night, again. No dreams this time. But I feel sick to my stomach. Too tired to think of a decent title.

Found out yesterday that I'm failing Biology. Flipped a shit, got some work done, flipped another shit. Lots of crying. Tennis didn't help. Stomachache, headache, sore throat. Parents are getting on my nerve. Brother's even worse. I thought taekwondo was supposed to teach him respect. Ha. Ha fucking ha.

Wishing I didn't have to go to school today. Feeling like shit as I said already. Totally unprepared for History essay.

I can't wait until tomorrow afternoon. Fluffy hotel beds, wandering rights to the arcade and billiards parlor, and no parents.




Shit I think I'm bleeding.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011


Almost seven in the morning. Didn't sleep very well last night, despite everything. I dreamt. I hardly ever dream. Something about British hotels where they brainwash kids into being geniuses but never let them out again. Another about friends becoming mortal enemies and trying to defeat each other with...something spicy, I forget what it was. Buffalo wing sauce or something. Hell if I know what those were all about. Woke up somewhere past midnight, wasn't able to get back to sleep for a while. Alarm went off about an hour ago, just turned it off and tried to fall back to sleep. Feeling sick as well as tired. Don't wanna go to school today, but mom would never let me stay home. Might as well go, the only thing I'll succeed in doing if I stay here much longer is get my ToK teacher mad at me. Again.

Raindrops, roses, kittens, bright copper kettles, warm woolen mittens, brown paper packages tied up with rope. Are any of these where you are?

Head is spinning. Should probably take some ibuprofen, grow a pair and go to school now. It's cold. Ciao.

Monday, March 28, 2011


Today was wicked stressful at school, so I'm more than happy to finally be home. My stepdad cleaned some of the house today, which was wonderful of him. I've got incense burning in my room--teakwood and cardamom, I think. Going to make some tea soon, maybe in my new teaset that I haven't taken out of the box since my parents got me it for Christmas. And with Turkish Delight. Gotta have that. And I'll probably turn some music on. This is going to be my greatest chilltime ever. I'm just glad I've got the time. I don't enjoy things like this very often.

In response to the numerous comments I suddenly got overnight (really, I'm surprised. And here I thought no one read this.): I don't know what you think you're playing at, but it's not going to work. I've seen how things are run around here. You're as subtle as bricks to the head; I'll play none of your silly games.

Although, that being said...what exactly am I expecting out of this? If people are reading this, what else does it matter...why are you reading this, anyway? I've nothing to offer you.

Tea's ready. Cheerio.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

So Many Things To Look Forward To

I'm easy like Sunday mornin'.

It's been a fairly good weekend, better than some of the other weekends I've had. The tea I mentioned in the last post is working wonders on my spirits. I've been happy as a clam. Well, as happy as a clam with IB history homework to finish can be.

Tomorrow at school we're having a welcome-back party for my English teacher. She's been out for a month due to some operation she had to get. Pizza, chips, soda, and cake. Just what a growing teenager needs in her diet, nomnomnom.

This coming weekend is the New England Key Club District Convention. I've been panicking over it because we missed the application deadline, but our President (you're wonderful, hun) said she called the guy in charge and he's trying to see if there are any rooms left at the hotel. I'm keeping my fingers crossed, because I really, REALLY need to go to this....for selfish reasons, I'll admit. I do my part as a member of Key Club, granted, and this will be a great learning experience. But what I'm really anxious for is being away from my family for an entire weekend. And the dances, oh god, the dances. It's going to be amazing.

After all, there's no rule that said the smart kids aren't allowed to have fun at all, is there?

Still writing like nuts in my journal. I haven't bothered reading through anything I've written, but I might soon. No point writing what no one will read.

...I should take my own advice.


Saturday, March 26, 2011


Making this brief as I think my mother would like her computer back.

Adaptor's dead on my laptop, for good this time I think. Can't use it again until we buy a new one since the battery's shot.

My friend pulled me to the counselor on Thursday. Worried about me she says, worried because I've become so distant and don't talk to anyone and I told her I feel like people are always staring at me staring and laughing at me behind my back and talking about me look they say look how crazy she is always looking out the window

The counselor wants me to start weekly visits with her. I told her I was perfectly fine with that (I need help coping with all this IB stress, anyway, so I think it would do me some good) but without my mom's permission she can't do anything. Dunno if she's contacted her yet.

In the meantime, I've been trying to take matters into my own hands. The weather's gradually getting nicer and nicer, and there's not much to do since my laptop's not working, so I've been spending a lot of time outside. Reading, writing. Tennis practice has also been really helpful. Gives me a way to channel my emotions.

Bought a few things at a local apothecary today: antidepression tea and a quartz stone. My counselor recommended drinking tea as a way to relax, so I figure it's worth a shot. The quartz, though, was my own doing. It's supposed to cleanse and amplify spiritual energy and help your psyche find its centre. A way, if I may, to clear the path to truth.

If you believe all that shit. Which I suppose I do.

Beautiful day out, if not a little chilly. I might go out at finish reading House of Leaves. It's getting so gooood~

Sunday, March 20, 2011


In both a literal and figurative sense. My legs hurt from yesterday. I haven't danced in a long time, and being as out-of-shape as I am, my muscles weren't exactly ready for it, I don't think.

Frankly, I've felt very annoyed lately. Not at anything or anyone in particular. Just everything. My mom's voice, my brother's insults, the phone ringing, even the birds outside hurt my ears. The only thing I can listen to without getting furious is my iPod. Maybe I've just become so antisocial that it's actually affected me physically. I don't know.

Sunny and cold today, about 50. Not bad. But there's nowhere for me to go, so I'm staying in my room again. Should probably be doing my homework.

I've been scribbling in notebooks a lot lately, and habitually growing less and less conscious of what teachers say. The back of the classroom has become a favorite spot for me, whenever I can get away with it (because a lot of the time I can't; I have two classes where there is literally only ONE other student, and most of my other classes are so small that it's too easy for the teacher to spot one slacker in a sea of hard workers.

Written in IB Englisc, 9:02 am (I forget which day this was.)

Talking about existentialism in The Metamorphosis. Existential thinkers and writers "examine the struggle to find meaning in a world that is meaningless". Ex: Gregor goes through his mundane day-to-day life, searching for a purpose. He's alienated throughout the story, both physically and emotionally. He lives solely for his family, to go to work and come home, to live to make them happy. If he had shown free will, change his own destiny, perhaps he could have broken free and succeeded in his own goals.
Define who you are, instead of the world defining you.
-----> Free Will vs. Acceptance
~Kafkaesque: describes stories that 1) are marked by surreal distortion and a sense of impending danger, 2) have a nighmarish complex, bizarre or illogical quality, 3) reflect a dark, dehumanized world, 4) have a senseless, disorienting, and often menacing complexity.
Pouring rain today. Cloudy, dark. Hoping this will get rid of what's left of the snow. Otherwise, this weather's going to get real sickening, real easy.

Don't we laugh at terrible events as a way to make ourselves feel better?

~Epiphany in The Metamorphosis: When Gregor realizes he must die, after his sister openly rejects him, he has become useless to others. Ironically, he has been an outcast, an insect, an alienated being long before this.
~Gregor's life: empty, insignificant, job situation is degrading (dehumanizing) and unfulfilling, hates and wants to quit but doesn't (for his family), dreams of a different life, lack of communication with family or others (locked away in his room) or traveling, unappreciated. He is alienated from his family--turning into a bug shows the alienation even more. Is his bug shell protection from a shallow, detached, uncaring world? He has no relationship with his family, except Grete. Family only notices him when he stops working. Never appreciated him until then. He has been the sole worker of the family, but the irony is that the others could have worked, and only did after he stops.More irony in that his working was actually holding him back. HIS WORDS ARE USELESS--no one can understand a bug, after all--BUT HIS WORDS WERE USELESS BEFORE.

Perhaps I'm being overdramatic. Perhaps this is a little too extreme.
This is a lonely existence.
Do I accept? Do I have a free will? Am I alienated?
Who defines me?

Will anyone hear me if I scream?

~The universe is indifferent, and often apparently hostile to humans.
~Human existence is unexplainable. (what about inhuman...?)
~Isolation, anxiety and despair are a part of life.
~People judge life according to individual experiences.
~Freedom of choice exists, but so do the consequences of one's actions.
......~A person's own convictions, not external rules, determine truth.

Haven't I been busy, now.

Does any of this matter, anyway? Why am I even typing this? No one's reading this. I don't get a single pageview in between entries.

It doesn't matter.

Homework time now. Adieu.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Slow Day

So. No new pageviews. No new comments/trolls. Guess everyone's been out with a case of spring fever like me?

~Today was ABSOLUTELY. GORGEOUS. It hit 62 outside, which is a big deal here, especially at the end of winter.

~Covered the inside covers of one of my composition books with Operator symbols. I'm kinda upset I ended up leaving it at school, hopefully it'll be there tomorrow. ;~;

~Told off a douchey freshman during lunch. My friend wasn't feeling her best today, and for some reason he just couldn't take the hint and leave her alone. So I just went up to him, point-blank, and said "Hey, would you kindly fuck off? She's having a hard time." I'm not known for having enough cajones to stand up to someone like that, so I got pretty excited later. He deserved it, anyway. Nyah.

~My substitute English teacher is a nutjob, but in a good way. She decided to wear a cockroach costume she'd bought online for our discussion of The Metamorphosis. When we walked into the class, she was laying flat on the table with her arms and legs flailing like crazy. Definitely the hightlight of school.

I've finally gotten that three-week-long craving for lemonade out of my system, it was warm and sunny and I voluntarily wore a skirt today (HOLY SHIT) and got to go out to dinner with my mom. It was actually really relaxing. I've still got my blinds open, even though it's dark. I should probably close them.


Met a dancer
Who was high in a field
From her movement
Caught my breath on my way home
Couldn't stop that spinning force
I felt in me
Everything around seemed to giggle glee
She walked up with a flower and I cared


Back to homework it is, then. Bonne nuit, mes amis.

Monday, March 14, 2011


Read The Metamorphosis in English, currently taking notes on Kafka and the elements found in his work. It's surprising how tedious this is.


~began in early 1920s and centered in Paris, France
~attracted members of the "Dada" community (must look up at a later time)
~sought to release the creative potential of the unconscious mind
~art without the intention or restraints of logical comprehensibility
~features the element of surprise, unexpected juxtapositions and non sequitur
~influenced by the work of psychoanalysts (ex. Freud and Jung)

Why are all the notes on existentialism so incredibly long? Wiki, I pout at thee.

It's times like these I wish I had something to entertain me. None of the Slendervlogs have been updated for a while--I'm guessing EMH is waiting for HABIT's Trial 5 to finish, or at least get a little more underway--but I'm anxious to find out how things are going down in MH. It's almost too quiet. Wherefore art thou, mein Ritter?

It doesn't help that I've had so much homework lately that I can't do much of anything for fun...and believe me, procrastination is not fun when you know you've got something you have to finish.

Hey, ghosties? Have you ever felt bored with life? I don't mean a regular bored. I mean a heavy-on-your-shoulders, heart-crushing, "you could write a Broadway musical number about it" type of boredom. An "I wish I could be someone else for a little while, just to see if it's more exciting" boredom. A boredom so drastic that you wish you could change the whole way of the universe, just to see if your life would have any meaning to yourself. That kind of bored.

Quick definition of existentialism: a philosophical movement argues that "existence precedes essence," that individuals must choose, decide their "essential" nature rather than having it given from some transcendent source.

Thank you, Google. Perhaps I should pay better attention to my homework. Au revoir.

Sunday, March 13, 2011


Wow, I sound really zoned out in my last post. Jumping all over the place...it must have been late. This is why I don't stay up unless I've had an energy drink. Last night, I had an energy drink, Pocky, AND I indulged myself in a two-feet-long strip of bubble wrap while watching Dragonball Z and German football. Yeah, I was bouncing off the walls eight hours ago. c:

Not much else to talk about. Things have been pretty calm here. The weather was nice yesterday, so I actually walked around a bit, went down to the park. Today, it's raining again. Damn you, inconsistent New England climate. I've had an awful cough for the past few.....months?....but I think it's finally starting to go away. So despite the gloominess, I feel terrific today. We'll see how long that lasts. I think I have Theory of Knowledge homework to finish. Ew.

Ways of Knowing: Perception, Language, Reason, Emotion

Areas of Knowledge: History, Mathematics, Ethics, Human Sciences, The Arts, Natural Sciences

Justifications for Belief: Self-Awareness ("I think, therefore I am"?), Memory, Authority, Revelation, "Consensus Gentium", Faith, Intuition, Sense Perception, Logic

Links: Belief, Certainty, Culture, Evidence, Experience, Explanation, Bias, Interpretation, Truth, Value, Technology

Types of Thinkers

~Obvious things must be true.
~We can easily attain certainty.
~ToK isn't important and doesn't apply to 'the real world'.
~I know the truth.
~My standards are better than any other standards.
~My culture is the best in every way.

~Nothing is what it seems to be.
~Certainty is impossible.
~The goal of ToK is to be able to be sceptical about everything.
~There is no such thing as truth.
~There are no standards by which to judge anything.
~All cultural perspectives are equally valid.

The Critical Thinker
~Things are not always what they seem to be; we must examine and analyze.
~Certainty is very difficult to come by in all except the simplest cases (and even in many of those).
~We are all searching for the truth, but it is hard to say that we know we have found it.
~Many standards are defensible, but many are not.
~I have considered several positions, and i know and can justify what I believe to be reasonable and unreasonable.

The world is confusing, opinions abound. Our common sense contains inaccuracies, biases, prejudices, old wives tales. We acquire knowledge abot the world through language, perception, reason and emotion, but none guarentee us certainty. According to relativism, truth is relative to the individual, but we often take seriously that someone may be wrong in their beliefs suggests that relativism is false. There is so little white and black certainty in the world, we must rely on judgment, good judgment. Good judgment relies on a balance between scepticism and open-mindedness. Two early criteria for deciding if a knowledge claim is plausible are evidence and coherence. Since we are what we believe and our beliefs affect our actions, if we want to be authentic and responsible we should occasionally put our beliefs under critical scrutiny.

These are the sheets I get from ToK. It's funny how it can apply to so much.

Friday, March 11, 2011

Sad Faces

The AC adaptor to my laptop wasn't working when I got home from school today, so Fabio is currently out of commission. Poor things. So cold.

Went to my mom's friend's house around seven. What a nice house. It's in the nice part of the city, where there aren't inner-city thugs to nail your ass. More trees than houses out there, I think. I kept leaving what I was doingevery few minutes to check my Facebook...I hope they don't think I was too rude. Kicked a little girl's ass at pool. I also got a set of "worry dolls" that the mother found in the back of her walk-in closet.. She didn't really explain how I'm supposed to use them. I think I'm supposed to whisper my worries to them and put them back in the box, so they take the worries away? Pff. Those poor dolls will all be deaf by the time I'm done with them.

It's late. Must be getting to sleep soon. Gute nacht, to ghost readers and trolls alike. Sleep well.

Sans Sunshine

But I'm not dead yet, lovelies.

These last couple days have been very stressful. I've been handling it by not doing my homework. Not the best idea, I know. I've been comforted by the play we've been planning (the one I went shopping for on Monday) because it's kept me busy. But now the play is done. We performed it yesterday. There's not going to be anything to distract me from school now. Needless to say, not looking forward to getting up right now and getting ready to go to school.

It's been raining again. Pouring, rather. So grey outside. So cold and wet and rainy.

I know a lot of people who despise March weather. They find it "dead", it dampens their spirits. Honestly? I love it. The rain is so calming to listen to outside my window, and the trees look so pretty when they sway in the wind. And it really just means spring is on the way, so even if it's fogged up outside my window, so much that I can't see anything, I can wait for the nice weather. The flowers will grow better after this, anyway.

Though I don't like going outside much.

Lately I've been really prone to crying. Not that I haven't been like that since, what, last November? But it's been getting worse, to the point that if I think of one little bitty thing that makes me upset I break down into sobs. Then if thinking about something makes me happy, I know it will never happen and it makes me cry more. And then there's my brother. You know, if he would just leave me the fuck alone, maybe I'd be that little bit happier. When I'm staring out the window so forlornly, he'll ask me what I'm doing and why I'm being "emo". "I'm not being emo." "Then why are you staring outside." And I'll say something jokingly, like "I'm looking for Slenderman. I keep seeing him moving out of the corner of my eye." Then he'll roll his eyes. "You're fucking nuts," he'll say, "Slenderman's not real, so quit talking about him. That's all you ever talk about, you stupid bitch."

He has no right to talk to me like that. But he does it anyway because he knows he can get away with it. He's fourteen and takes jiujitsu. I'm sixteen and too lazy to roll myself out of bed in the morning. So he can sit there and call me fat and lazy and ugly and tell me that no boy would ever want me because I'm a raging psychopath, and if I try to say something back he'll punch me or twist my arm. And if I hit him in retaliation or try to break free when he puts me in a chokehold, I'm the one that gets in trouble because they never saw him do anything and I'm the one that's supposed to be setting an example for my younger sibling. And that's only when I actually see him. I don't have any friends that live in my immediate neighborhood like he does. He's out almost all day when he can be, hanging out with his friends at the park.

Sometimes I wish Slenderman really did exist. If only to scare my brother shitless.

Drip drop, drizzle drizzle. What a beautiful sound.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Such a Beautiful Day

So much nicer than yesterday. The sun is shining, there's barely a cloud in the sky, the birds are twittering endlessly outside my window. Still freezing, though.

I stayed home today. My mom's not very happy about it. But I have so much homework that I need to get done. I'm going to have another breakdown if I don't finish it by the end of the day, so I'm trying to keep this post short.

A drug raid, seven fights, and two people sent to the hospital. That is what I found out happened yesterday, while I was at the college fair. A good two hundred of our thousand students ran rampant through the school. I don't feel safe. Even worse, I worry that this will become so bad that eventually the administrators won't be able to stop them. I'm one of less than 10% of the school that actually does what they're supposed to. And that's just now. I skipped class, my grades are slacking. I don't know what to do anymore. I'm so lost.

I just want to stay here in my room and stare out the window all day long. It's wide-open right now--the window. It's gotten cold in my room. But I don't want to close it. The weather's too nice.

I should probably do those math problems now. Hooray for chi-squared tests.

Monday, March 7, 2011

School, Shopping and Slenderhugs

Today has been an interesting day, to say the least. Our school was invited to a college fair a while back and I signed up, so I got to spend the bulk of the day there. (The old fairgrounds are so nice. They seem so small when it's not bustling with people and vendors, but still so beautiful. <3) Looked into a few colleges around my area, but none of them really appealed to me; all of the colleges I'm planning on applying for weren't participating except one. Highlight of the fair was definitely hanging out with my friend Lorraine in the Heroes & Legends Cafe inside the building. $4.50 for a cheeseburger; but with good food and better company it was sooooo worth it.

The afternoon was less....well, good. I had an episode in Math, like I do so often. I just let my thoughts and all the stress catch up to me and, I dunno. I just burst into tears. So I ended up skipping last block. My Chinese teacher found out. I'm liable to find a pair of chopsticks run through my throat by Wednesday.

After school, though, THAT was the fun part of the day. I'm currently in a play written and directed by our esteemed America (again, very difficult to explain) and today we went out to the nearby Salvation Army surplus store to get costumes. When it comes to fashion, I'm......I fail, plain and simple. And I'm horribly self-conscious. Thank the higher powers I have friends with fashion sense, otherwise I'd be wearing a potato sack for the play, or worse. Of course, to get there, I had to boldly go where I had never gone before. *big buildup*

DUN DUN DUN.....the public bus.

I'm so proud of myself. I was so freaked, but nothing happened. It was actually kinda fun!

We had so much fun there. There were hardly any people there, so we just ran along the aisles with our carts, picking out dresses and military uniforms. Not all dresses were for the girls, either. We convinced one of the guys to try on several of the....skinnier pieces. Eventually we found him a suit, which fit his character. Butbutbut. Someone picked out the right color tie and everything, and GO FIGURE he looked like Slenderman. It doesn't help that he's really skinny, either. I convinced him to give me a hug. Such a wonderful guy.

Things have died down now. The rain that's been going on outside all weekend finally ended this morning, only to be replaced with snow for an hour around noon. Now it's just really windy and really cold outside, which isn't that bad, just.....cold outside. I can hear the windchimes outside going crazy outside. I'm currenly procrastinating my History and Biology work. It sucks, I feel so tired right now but I know I have to get my homework done. I'm so doomed next year...if IB gets any harder than this, I wouldn't mind stabbing MYSELF with chopsticks.

Later, gators.

Sunday, March 6, 2011


First things first, as always. Can't have a blog without people knowing who you are.

Name's Z. Well, not really. Z, Izzy, Z-star, etc. etc. I'm sixteen, junior in high school, full IB student. Parents who want me to be molded in their perfect image, want me to grow up and become a doctor/ambassador/physicist or what not, my younger brother's a jerk, I'm fat and ugly and no one understands me and I have no friends and blah blah blah insert general teenage bitchiness here.

Now that that's out of the way.

I'm sort of a jack-of-all-trades. I can do some of everything but not all of something. Writing, drawing, some acting. I've recently become interested in European History due to one particular anime I'm absolutely in love with (pray someone out there knows which I'm talking about....veeee.) I love logic-based puzzles and riddles--Professor Layton-y type stuff. That's probably why I've also fallen pray to the Slenderman Mythos. There's just so much to think about, so much to figure out for yourself. What's real, what's not, red herrings and coded messages galore....makes me all giddy inside. <3 (Also why I kinda-sorta like my Theory of Knowledge class despite having the teacher from Hell.) I'm also a sucker for online roleplaying.

In truth, I really don't have many people to hang out with. I mean, plenty of friends, but none of them live close to my house like my brother's friends do. They're always out gallavanting around the neighborhood, picking fights with other kids and messing around at the park, skateboarding. And I'm the loser, go figure. So I spend a lot of time online, or reading. *total bookworm, otl*

Hm. Seems like a decent amount of information. Lates, peeps.