Friday, April 22, 2011

Messenger’s Report

Hello, everyone.  Call me The Messenger, the Bearer of Bad News.  And before you ask, no, I’m not just Hyde under a different alias.

Who am I?  Well, I work for The Boss.  The guy that you guys probably call The Slender Man or Slendy or some other nickname (I think I heard “Faceless McDoucheTree” or something once…I have to admit that one was pretty funny).  What do I do?  Well, I’m a hacker, and it’s my job to let you know when one of you has died.  Why?  I don’t know.  Maybe The Boss wants to give you closure.  Maybe he just wants to rub it in.  Maybe he just wants records since you people seem fond of coming back to life all the time.  Can’t you at least have the decency to stay dead so that we can keep track of who we don’t need to keep tabs on anymore?

You’re all probably wondering what happened to that guy who calls himself Hyde who claims that you know him better as Jekyll (although he said that name with a hint of disdain).  I’m sure you all want to know how he is.  Well, he’s kind of dead.  Shocker, huh?  I guess you assumed that after I explained what I do, though.  It would have been nice had he decided to maybe stay alive for more than three hours.

It’s a shame.  He was a pretty devoted guy.  We’re both pretty new, so we clicked pretty well.  He was small-ish.  Pretty wiry.  I liked him, but he was a weird kid.  Always wore a mask and hat.  Most people working for The Boss of their own free will don’t wear masks.  Had a flair for the dramatic.  He also kept talking in this obviously fake upper-class British accent.  Completely lucid kid, but also pretty darn crazy.

Thankfully, though, it sounds like he at least kind of expected to die eventually, and he gave me his login info.  Keep this in mind, people: doing what he did helps me a lot.  If you assume you’re going to die in the near future it’d really help me out if you could send an e-mail to that contains all your login info.  I’m being serious, by the way.  If we kill you, I’ll know anyway, and this way, it saves me the trouble of actually hacking your blog.  It makes my job a lot easier.

Anyway, Hyde decided that he’d get on the good side of The Boss as much as possible, and decided that the best way to do that would be to go around leading assaults on runners.  To be honest, I have no clue where you guys get the equipment you do.  Really, where do you guys get weapons like that?  Don’t you guys average seventeen years or something?  No offense, but you’re a bunch of psychos, running around with guns and swords and knives and Molotov Cocktails and whatnot.  It’s kind of scary in some ways.  I mean, you know you’re messed up when someone like me, who works for The Boss, tells you that you’re psychotic.

But yeah.  Basically, Hyde decided to lead some assaults (which he described as “tragic necessities” for some reason), and then decided to head off on his own after some guy called Arkady who he described to me as the vilest excuse for a human being to ever exist.  Probably a bit of an overreaction, but whatever the reason, he hated that guy.  Sounds like that Zero guy got to Arkady first, so Hyde figured “hey, two birds with one stone.”  From what I hear, he was mad at that Zero kid for something, too.  Of course, I also hear that he underestimated Zero.  Got himself killed.  I think Zero explains it more here

He sent me a bit he wanted posted along with his information.  Sort of a self-written memorial of some sort.  I don’t really think he expected to survive for long.  I mean, he was a pacifist and everything.  I’ll honor his wishes and put it up for you.  Be warned, there’s a bit here.

Hey, everyone.  Me here.  Not Jekyll.  Not Hyde.  Me.  I know that a lot of you are probably pretty angry at me.  You think that I’m a hypocrite.  You think that I’m crazy.  You think that I’m evil.  Well, you’re probably all right.  I’ve completely broken down, and I can’t remain the strong Jekyll persona I wish I could.  All that’s left for me is Hyde.

I really don’t know if I’m minion of the Slender Man or not.  Hyde is, yes, but that’s because Hyde thinks he has nowhere else to go.  When I take that mask off and slip out of that Hyde persona, I start to question whether or not this was the right choice.  I mean, I know it wasn’t the right choice, but it was the only one that still allowed me to do any good.  I know what you’re thinking, but…it’s the only way I can help.

I know I’m corrupt.  I know that I’m a monster now.  There’s still bits of Jekyll poking through the naïve Me, weakly trying to combat Hyde.  There’s this nagging suspicion that the…you know, He isn’t a beautiful, mysterious creature.  I know he’s dangerous, I just…it’s hard for me to bring myself to loathe him.  Hyde’s too dominant, even when I take off the mask.  I rarely take off the mask now anyway, just because it’s the only identity I have now.  It’s the only identity that He will accept.  It’s just a survival thing.

It’s…horrible.  I’m a pacifist.  And yet, I have to go out there and…well, I haven’t personally killed anyone yet, but I’ve led attacks with the intent to kill.  All to maintain His favor.  To survive just a bit longer.  But now…well, now I’ve got a plan.  I’m already evil.  A horrible monster.  I’m beyond redemption.  So I guess there’s no point turning back.  But I can focus it.  I can save souls more innocent than mine.

There are more people beyond redemption.  People like me.  Arkady is the one that comes to mind most clearly.  Zero as well.  A lot of these other proxies, though I can’t afford to be, to use a phrase, a “team-killing fucktard” at the moment.  Because that’s what I’m going to be doing: killing those who are beyond help.  The good of the many outweighs the good of the few, right?  I’ll be a murderer, and people will die by my hand, but they’re people the world will be better without.  It’s…it’s not pleasant no matter how you spin it, but it’s the best alternative.

I guess this is goodbye.  I’m sorry to those of you whose blogs I never got around to—especially those of you who commented.  I feel bad, talking to you even though I never knew you.  It’s time for my final words to some of you, along with (as a return to form) a bit of advice:

Jean: thank you for your words during my breakdown.  I see what you were trying to say, even if you went about it the wrong way.  I appreciate your attempts.

Andrew and Ben: Stay safe.  Andrew, you’ve got valuable information, plus you know not to throw morality out the window like some of these people do.  Ben, I’m sorry you got caught up in this, and I’m not attempting to diminish your role at all by telling you that you have to stay alive to keep Andrew sane.

Slice: I’m sorry I haven’t been able to check in with you lately, so I don’t know what your current status is.  I’ll just say that I get the feeling that Plasterface is trustworthy.  At least listen to him.

Robert: I’m sorry about the whole lack-of-faith-in-you thing.  I still think you would have made a great martyr.  I also think you’re insane now.  But I used to have an huge amount of respect for you.  You’re a good man.

Tony: I like you.  Just try to keep that sociopath personality reigned in.  Just keep the Golden Rule in mind: do unto others as you would have them do unto you.  I’d hate to have to go after you, and I’d hate it if Cynthia was right about her “Daddy” being a better father than you.  Just make sure we can trust you enough to take your advice, because if M doesn’t come back, you’re probably the most experienced and smartest guy we have.

Cynthia: I’m sorry I never got to meet you.  It would have been nice to at least talk.

Redlight: You’re funny.  You’re also a prick.  I’d probably like you if I didn’t hate you.  I honestly don’t know how I would have reacted had I met you.

Ava and Reach: Don’t be stupid.  You’ve got problems, yeah.  But you were considering starting a family earlier (if only just considering).  Well, now you’ve got an excuse.  I know you’re both just still kids, but grow up and learn to become adults and take responsibility.

Arkady: I’m on my way.  With any luck, the world will be rid of you soon.

Zero: You’re pursuing false ideas and murdering in the name of a misguided scheme.  I’m sorry.  I respected you.  But now you’re too far gone.

Maduin: You’ve got the balls to do what I couldn’t.  But please be careful.  Know your limits.

Aimee: I don’t know too much about you as you don’t have a blog of your own, but I know that you trusted me.  Thank you.

Ali: I’m sorry for everything you’re going through, and I hope your situation turns out well.  I’m sorry you seem so isolated.  I wish I could have helped more.  Hopefully, other people will. [Note: at his request, I’m linking the blog: Time out of Mind. -TM-]

Hoso: Self-esteem, girl.  Have some.  You’ve earned it.

Zeke: If you’re reading this, stay strong.  It’s a tough burden having everyone look up to you, which is why you have to at least appear strong for us.  Stay safe, stay smart, stay sane, and stay strong.

M:  M…if you’re reading this…good luck.  I respected you so much.  I still do.  I hope you can make it through this.  I mentioned in a comment earlier that you were like Schrodinger's Cat; we could never tell if you were alive or dead until you posted.  Well, I’m changing my stance.  M, you are, and will always remain, alive until proven dead.  Stay alive, you crazy, badass man.

Everyone defending the sort I’ll be attacking: The Slender Man isn’t the only evil in the world.  An enemy of an enemy is not always your friend.  Keep that in mind.  It’ll help you live longer.

Everyone Else and Those I’ve Missed: I’m sorry I’ve failed you all.  I’m sorry I couldn’t be stronger.  Take the advice I’ve given that you think is good.  Ignore the advice you think is terrible.  And please, stay safe.


A real shame he’s dead.  Like I said, I liked Hyde.  But, eh, not like it really matters anymore.  Serves me right for getting attached to him.  Can’t really get attached to anyone in this business.  Don’t know who’s going to die next.

Well, I’m done here.  Don’t be mad at me, I’m just doing my job.  This blog’s over, people.  Nothing to see.  Move along.

-Don’t Kill The Messenger-

Friday, April 15, 2011

Rain on Your Wedding Day


I believe that this is called “dramatic irony.”

I’m sure you all saw it coming from the very first post.  “Oh, a character named Jekyll,” you said.  “I wonder if there will be a Jekyll and Hyde sort of thing at all.”  This surprised none of you.

And yet, it caught me completely off guard.  I never expected this split persona to emerge.  You would think that I would have at least had an idea.  Just like in the novel from which I take my pseudonym, Hyde has emerged and taken over.

But at least time, the triumphant half is the right one.

I have finally come to realize that the Jekyll persona was a fool, and have abandoned it.  Jekyll tried too hard.  He was an idealist who thought he could save everyone around him.  While that certainly is admirable, it is also futile.  It brought him only pain, and consequently, brought Me pain.  He was also overly aggressive and spiteful.  You saw how he treated all of you when you were simply trying to help.  He was also self-centered, vain, and shallow-minded.  He thought himself the rightful persona, attempting to control Me exclusively, refusing to let the persona drop even when he could otherwise forget about the Tall One.  He jeopardized himself, just because he was selfish and paranoid.

So Jekyll exists no longer.  There is only Hyde.

He is standing outside.  I can feel Him.  I can see Him.  No one else can.  But I know He’s there.  He has His arms stretched out, in an imitation of an embrace.  You may not agree with me at all, but I know that He means me no harm.  I can feel His thoughts.  He wants me to come with Him.  And, as much as you may protest, I am going to leave with Him.  He means me no harm.  He only means harm to those who mean harm to Him.  And now, I have the opportunity to constantly be near this mysterious being.  To learn more about It.  What is It?  Is It a monster?  A deity?  An alien?  Who can say.  But perhaps I will finally find out.

I will admit that I’m terrified.  But not of Him.  I simply find it difficult to take a step into the unknown.  I am leaving everything behind.  Naturally, some hesitation comes with that.  But it is better this way.  If He is malicious, it draws him away from where I am.  No more casualties.  They may link it to Girl’s death, but that’s as far as their knowledge will go.  They will remain blind.  And if He is not malicious…well, then I have nothing to fear.  Things will work out for the better.

Now, if you will excuse me, I must go.  There is a certain Dapper Businessman waiting for me, and you all know how rude it is to keep someone waiting.

Most Sincerely,


Thursday, April 14, 2011

Still Alive


This was a triumph.  I’m making a note here, huge success.  It’s hard to overstate my satisfaction.  I did what I can because I must.  For the good of all of us. 

Except we still end up dead.

But there’s no sense crying over every mistake.  You just keep on trying, and the work gets done, and you find a way to help the people who are still alive.

She’s not even angry.  I’m being so sincere right now.  Even though I broke her heart and killed her.  And tore her to pieces.  And threw every piece into a fire.  As she burned it hurt because she cared so much for me.  And she’s glad she got burned…because she was just trying to protect me and now she’s dead and I’m still alive.

Go ahead and leave me.  I think I prefer to stay inside.  Maybe you’ll find someone else to help you.  Maybe Frap.  That was a joke.  Ha, ha.  Fat fucking chance.

Look at me still talking when there’s nothing more to do.  And I’m sure you’re saying that you’re glad your not me.  You’ve got experiments and research to be done but nobody’s gonna do it anymore and if they are it’s sure as hell not going to be me.

And believe me, I am still alive.

I’m completely broken but I’m still alive.

And everyone’s dying and Girl is dead and Amelia is dead and Jeff is dead and Jay is dead and everyone is dead but I’m still alive.

…Why the hell am I still alive?

Wednesday, April 13, 2011



…She’s…she’s dead.

I just heard….  They found her last night.  A farmer found her corpse on his property at around dusk.  Slumped over an upper branch of a tree, positioned so she wouldn’t fall to the ground.  Her stomach cut open and her entrails spilling out.

They…they said it was suicide.  There was a knife on the ground below the tree.  Covered in her blood.  Had her fingerprints on it.  She obviously did it herself.  But that’s only half the truth.  Someone made her.  SomeTHING made her.  Even if it was a conscious choice, she committed suicide because she couldn’t deal with running anymore.

Oh God…she…she’s really gone.  I can’t help her anymore.  I failed.

What kind of miserable fuck-up am I?  All I fucking wanted was to help people.  Give them advice that might help them survive.  Prepare them.  And then, when I finally get the chance to see how well my advice pays off, how does it work out?  Not at fucking all.  The one person I had a chance to actually help, and now she’s dead.  It’s my fault.  She died because of me.  Not even because of the Slender Man.  She was fucking fine until she mentioned Marble Hornets to me.  She was safe.  And I came in, infected her, watched her slowly become a remnant of the girl she was before, and watched helplessly as she died.

I may have loved her, and she thought she loved me back but she didn’t really.  She’s dead and I’m here and I don’t know what to do because I failed her and I failed myself and I failed all of you.  I’m a failure.  A worthless idiot.  A really bad joke.

Why won’t he just fucking stop?  Why doesn’t he just fucking kill me?  He could do it if he wanted to.  Why doesn’t he just fucking do it already?

Perhaps it is punishment of some sort.  Yeah, maybe it’s punishment.  He’s pissed at me and, consequently, he doles out punishments for my transgressions.  He means me no actual harm.

What the hell did I just say?  Of course he fucking means me harm.  The proxies.  The labyrinth.  Everything with Girl.  He’s trying to fucking hurt me in every way possible.

On the other hand, has he ever attempted to kill me?

Why would that even matter?  He’ll try eventually.  He fucking killed Girl.  Why wouldn’t he do the same to me?  If he seriously doesn’t mean me harm, why has he put me through hell without even allowing me the release of death?

But perhaps all those proxies are right.  Perhaps he is God.  God is vengeful, yes.  And yet, God is loving.  He forced the Israelites to wander in the desert for forty long years, yes, but only so that they would be prepared to enter the Promised Land.  It is, to use a term, “tough love.”

…okay, wait, what?  Tough love?  Seriously?  That is the furthest thing from tough love.  He’s evil.

But who came to that conclusion?  We did.  It is human nature to be terrified of something different.  Why did whites enslave blacks?  Why did the Nazis massacre Jews, gypsies, and homosexuals, among others?  Because they were different.  We fear what is different.  It is our human nature.  Perhaps, we just need to…embrace it.  After all, in some ways—a lot of ways—it is a beautiful creature.

…did I seriously just compare the Slender Man to the Holocaust?  And a “beautiful creature?”  What the fuck is wrong with me.  He kills people.  He killed Girl.  Remember that, Jekyll.

Or maybe he just kills us because we attack him.  He retaliates in fear.  In self-defense.

…What the hell am I fucking saying?

Girl’s dead.  She’s gone.  She’s fucking gone forever now.  She died, I’m going to die, you’re all going to fucking die and there’s not a single fucking thing I can do for you.  I started a blog hoping I could save some lives.  How many lives have I saved?  None.  The one time it was necessary, the one time I had the chance to make a difference, the person I was trying to protect went crazy and died less than two weeks after first seeing him.

M’s still alive.  I’m convinced by this point that he’s never going to die.  Go look to him for advice again.  Maybe he’ll actually fucking post something helpful.  Because I sure as hell won’t anymore.  I’m done here.  I’m gone.  I’m no use to anyone.  You want to convince me to continue.  Go ahead and fucking try.  It won’t work.  Because I had one fucking thing.  I had hope.  I was convinced that I could help people.  I was convinced I could do something.  Now, that hope has been taken away.  Crushed on the ground, raped to death with tentacles, and burnt to a crisp with pyrokinesis. 

I used to have hope, yeah.  But now I have nothing.  Fucking nothing.

Goodbye.  Good luck. 

Good riddance.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Untitled 7


Well, I have news that’s probably good, and news that’s probably bad.

First, let’s get the probably good news out of the way.  Boyfriend isn’t about to kill me.  He’s not happy, but he gets now that this is something that kind of goes beyond what he thought it did and that it wasn’t because there was something going on between us.  He still blames me, of course (and that makes two of us), but he’s sort of just giving me “I’m pissed at you” looks and mourning the fact that she’s gone.  Also, he’s pretty sure it’s over between them, but that’s a secondary concern by this point.  He’s not really a shallow guy, so I’m not gonna make it seem like that’s what he cares most about.  It’s a pity, too.  I didn’t deserve to accidentally win her over from him.  But we’ve come to an understanding, and though he probably hates me, he also knows that I was genuinely trying to help her with something.  At least I don’t have to worry about inadvertently wearing his arms as a necktie anymore.

And now the probably bad news.

I went home for the weekend.  It was late at night, and I headed downstairs to grab a midnight snack from the fridge.  I tend to do that when I’m home…sneak downstairs to where there’s food and/or milk before eating.  Anyway, I’m walking around in the kitchen, and I open the fridge door.  Quietly, of course, as everyone else is sleeping.  And then I hear a voice from the living room.


I uttered a hurried curse, the glass of milk I had poured slipping from my grip.  Taking care not to shed a single tear, I quickly grabbed a cloth to mop up the spilled liquid. Well, it was more that I just tossed the towel over where I had spilled it, because Girl walked out of the living room at that moment,.  I was sort of in my skivvies, so I had to quickly duck into the living room to grab a blanket off the couch to wrap myself in.

As soon as I was more decently clothed and had finished cleaning up the floor, I sat down in the living room with her and flicked a lamp on.  She was sitting on the couch, wringing her hands, dressed in a dark hoodie and jeans.  The hood was pulled up, even though we were inside, like she felt safer within the confines of the cowl.

“What are you doing here?” I hissed at her.  Incidentally, this conversation is, as always, paraphrased.  Also, we were talking quietly the entire time.  Everyone else in the house was asleep, and I didn’t want anyone coming across me in my underwear (and a blanket) sitting with a mentally unstable girl.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “I just had to come see you.  I didn’t know where else to go.”  She had really, really, really dark circles under her eyes.  She obviously hadn’t been sleeping well.  Obviously hadn’t been eating well, either.  She was extremely gaunt.  She seriously looked like she had gone anorexic, though probably not due to image problems.

“How did you—”  The question was supposed to end with “find me,” but it was a stupid question.  Phonebook, of course.  I decided to ask a different one.  “Why didn’t you call me or text me or something to let me know you were coming?”

Again, stupid question that I forgot I knew the answer to.  “I…I left my phone behind,” she told me.  “I couldn’t.  But I thought you’d maybe be home this weekend.”  Well, I was.  God, she looked terrible.  She kept shivering, like she couldn’t get warm (for the record, my mom keeps the house at about 78 degrees Fahrenheit, so she shouldn’t have been cold).  She kept looking around nervously, as if she expected fucking everything to come to life and kill her.  And her face…it was…it was insane how much it had changed in just this short time.  It was like the “after” portion of those “before and after” things you see for drugs.  She kept rubbing the back of her left hand.  She’d never had any sort of tic like that before.

“So why are you here?” I asked her.

“I…I need you.  I can’t take it, [Jekyll].  I just need someone to talk to.  The silence is just deafening.  He’s never around.  I can feel him, but I can never see him.  He’s always just hiding somewhere.  I’m so alone.  It’s the silence that’s killing me.”  She looked up, and it was…it was actually painful to look at her face.  There was just nothing there.  She looked empty.  A shell of our former self.  And she made eye contact…it…it was…there was nothing in them.  No hope.  No life.  Just fear and a weary acknowledgement that she had to keep fighting.  Not even determination, just…just an acknowledgement that she wasn’t supposed to give up.  It looked, however, like even that acknowledgement would soon fade, and she would simply resign herself to her terrible fate.  “I just needed someone to talk to to keep me sane, just a little bit longer.”  Again, a resignation to her tone.

“You need to come back,” I told her.  “You can’t handle this on your own.”

She kept rubbing the back of her hand.  “I’m sorry,” she said.  “I…I can’t do that.  It’s not safe for me.  He’s after you, Jekyll, but he’s also after me.  If I can draw him away from you…well, you’ll be safe.”

Her hand slipped for a second, and I saw a flash of red.  I reached over to her and grabbed her left hand.  She had cut an operator symbol into it.  A motherfucking operator symbol.  Into the back of her hand.

I think I let out a few choice curses.  I didn’t wake anyone up, so I managed to keep them to a whisper.  But just barely.  “What the fuck are you thinking?” I asked her.  “You know that it’s risky to use that symbol!”  Look at me.  She’s fucking cutting things into her hand, and I’m worried about what it was she’s cut in.  What’s that say about me as a person, huh?

She pulled back in shock and slapped me.  We both just started at each other in surprise for a few seconds.  “I….” she started.  “I just…I thought…I was….”  I watched as she grasped for the words, but they had left her.  It was as if she knew she had taken a razor herself and, for some reason or another, carved the mark onto her own hand—and yet somehow, had no recollection of when or why.  She simply could not find the words to explain.

“I have to go,” she whispered, close to tears.  “I’m sorry, [Jekyll], I…I shouldn’t have come here in the first place.  Don’t go looking for me.  In fact, just forget about me.  You’ll be safer that way.”  She stood up, and made her way to the door.  On the back of the hoodie, she had made another operator symbol out of red electrical tape.  So, yeah, that’d be Omega’s influence, I guess.  Thanks for that.

So she turned to me and gave me a hug—or rather, attempted to give me a hug.  She was so week that she just sort of…put her arms around me and grabbed onto the blanket to keep them from slipping off.  But she tried to give me a hug, and then she leaned forward and put her lips against my cheek, in what was clearly the closest thing to a kiss she could muster.

And then she slipped out the door and left, driving with her headlights off until she reached the road.

She’s gone.  I…I couldn’t help her.

Oh God what now fuck what now?

Friday, April 8, 2011

Untitled 6


I…I don’t even know what to say.  I don’t know how to respond to this.

Girl’s gone.  She’s…she’s gone.  She just fucking up and left.  Sent me off to get food and then just fucking took off.  Her note.  She left a note.  God, let me get it.  Just let me get it and type it up for you.


I’m sorry.  I can’t stay around here anymore.  I’m not strong like you.  I wish I could stay around and help you, but as it is, I’m just a burden.  I can’t keep imposing on you.  So this is goodbye.  I’m becoming a runner.  I feel trapped staying in one place, but maybe, if I’m on the move, he won’t be able to catch me.  I mean, it’s worked for M, right?  I know how much your eyes light up when you talk about him.  I found that memorial for him you set up.  It’s nice.  It’s great that he’s alive and everything, but part of me almost thinks that it’s too bad that he is, after all that eulogy and everything.  Personally, I think you do his job better than he does.  But I guess I’m just biased.

Well…I guess this is later, gator.  I’m sorry, [Jekyll].  I wish I was strong enough to say goodbye.


…I don’t know what to fucking do now.  She…I spent so much trying to help her.  And what did I do?  Nothing.  She fucking bolted.  Now she’s on her own, where she’ll be vulnerable.

Okay, so maybe she can survive as a runner.  But let’s be honest with ourselves, shall we?  In her current state, so psychologically broken, how long do you suppose she will last?  Her likelihood of surviving is rapidly dwindling.  She lacks both the sanity and stability to do anything fucking sensible.  She’s running because she’s panicking, not because she’s got a plan.  How do I even fucking react to this?

Now what?  Where do I even fucking go from here?

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Her Boyfriend’s Back and I’m gonna be in trouble….


Well.  Fuck.

Boyfriend decided that he’d confront me directly.  And “confront” didn’t mean, as I was expecting, that he’d block my path and bitch me out about staying away from his girl.  I expected a warning.  He let his fists speak for him.

Now, Boyfriend isn’t exactly a powerhouse.  He’s no football player or wrestler.  In fact, I don’t think he’s in any athletic program.  But that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t know how to throw a punch.  I’ve got a pretty impressive black eye.  I’d show it to you all, but that’d sort of defeat the purpose of anonymity.  Just run “black eye” through a Google image search.  It’s not quite as bad as most of those results, but you can pretend that I look exactly like that if you want to.

So after a few seconds of me what-the-fucking at him, he let me up.  I was on the ground at this point, naturally.  No, I’m not ashamed to admit this.  I know that I’m not the most muscular guy on campus, and I don’t think that the internet will look down on me for losing a fight.

“You stay the hell away from her,” he told me.  I responded with something along the lines of “What the fuck, man?  There’s nothing between us!”  Of course, then I needed to explain what was going on.  Thank God it was already getting dark out and no one was around to draw a crowd.

“Look,” I told him, “you’re going to have to trust me on this.  There’s something that’s going on with her, and she’s coming to me for help because I’m the only one who can help her.”

“I know, you jackass.  I know what you did to her.  I’ve read your fucking blog,” he said.

Okay, so he didn’t say that, but how ironic would that be?  No, what he really said was something like “She can come to me for anything.”  I tried explaining that, no, this is something that she doesn’t want you involved with.  She can’t even tell you because she loves you so much that she wants to keep him safe from this.

I’m such a great guy, aren’t I?  I didn’t even tell him that I was legitimately crushing on her, or that it was more that she needed me than she wanted him to be safe.

I’m watch her sleep.  Right as I type this up.  Not even kidding.  Sure, it’s for her sake, and she specifically asked me to.  She refuses to be alone even for a second now.  Hell, the only reason I got beat up in the first place was that I managed to convince her that I needed to get us food, and she was too scared to go out.  But still…I feel creepy watching her.  Like I’m walked in on her changing and decided to keep looking instead of turning away as soon as possible.  It just feels dirty.

I wish I could say she looks like she’s at peace when she sleeps.  But she’s doesn’t.  She’s not.  She has to leave a light on the entire time.  It usually takes her hours to get to sleep.  When finally does manage to drift off, she tosses and turns.  Sometimes she whimpers or cries or her breath becomes quick and panicked.  When she doesn’t, she doesn’t look calm.  She just looks dead.  And she always, always wakes up screaming.

This is stupid.  We have to be alone for this, or else it just looks weird.  We have to sleep in the lounges because we both have roommates and they wouldn’t exactly take to well to having us both around all the time.  We shouldn’t be alone.  We should be in groups.  What if the Slender Man shows up while the other one is sleeping?

She doesn’t go to classes anymore, either.  I’m still trying.  I’m so sleep deprived, but I guess the black eye hides that a bit now, huh?  But when I go to classes, she just sits outside the classroom the entire time.  Until she sees or hears me, she just stares off into space, an empty look in her eyes.  I can tell that she’s losing time.  She doesn’t have anyone to keep her awake, so her mind just sleeps, even if her body doesn’t.  That’s maybe how it happens.  She just spaces out because she can’t face reality.

And when she is spacing out, she’s often sketching in that damn notebook.  No, I’m not uploading the pictures.  I rip them up before she can see them.  I’m not subjecting her to that.

The sad part is, I honestly don’t know which is worse: the times when she’s numb, dead, and empty, or the times when she’s paranoid, panicked, and slipping into insanity.  She’s rarely ever lucid before.  I’m just her anchor.  Her babysitter.  That one constant she refuses to let go of because I’m proof that she’s not crazy, that this thing does exist, that it’s possible to face this and be well adjusted.  I give her hope.

But she’s still not getting any better.

…she told me she loved me last night.  She was hyperventilating and I helped calm her down, and then she started crying, and she kept thanking me and sobbing and telling me that she loved me for all this.  And it broke my heart.  Because I know that she doesn’t really love me.  She only thinks she does, because I’m the only one who can help her.  I’m her knight in shining armor.  Me, of all people.  The guy who fucking cried when he thought M died.  The guy who’s an asshole in the hopes that people just stop fucking reading his blog and don’t get attached to him.  The guy who can’t even fucking trust himself anymore.  It truly is a shame how much faith she puts into me.  A pity that I can never live up to her expectations.  Truly, I am one of the least heroic or bold persons in our shared predicament.  She has yet to realize that.  Perhaps it is for the best that she idolizes me.  Perhaps I will be her beacon of hope yet.  Perhaps I can pull her back from insanity yet.

But unfortunately, it is probable that I cannot.

I’m sorry.  I must go now.  She is beginning to awaken.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Drama Llamas


Well, my friends, it appears that my situation has become a tad hectic.  As the girl I have simply dubbed “Girl” has mentioned, she has a boyfriend (who shall henceforth be given the creative moniker of “Boyfriend”).  Now, I have great faith in your intelligence, my readers, so I do not believe I have to tell you what sort of conclusions a person jumps to when their significant other suddenly begins spending the majority of their time with another member of the other sex.

For now, it will suffice to say that his reaction toward me has been…less than favorable.  He does not think that I know that he knows, nor does he realize that I know that he thinks he knows.  I actually find it quite a nuisance to be stalked from the shadows, considering that I already have a certain mysterious gentleman doing the same thing.  Mr. Boyfriend should attempt some originality.  The fellow should at least have the decency to confront me face to face (though he may simply lack the chutzpah).  It’s actually quite infuriating.  When it comes to operas, I prefer scores to soaps.

Oh, yes, I’ve gotten ahead of myself, haven’t I?  While your lack of support is certainly unappreciated, I’m sure that at least one of you has been worried about the girl called Girl.  Well, fear not.  The doctors, after a few tests, decided that she was in good health and fit for an honorable discharge.  We have been separated for no longer than an hour over the weekend.  Yes, that includes nights.  She has been unable to sleep, and has had to depend on me as an anchor to keep her sane. 

Her reaction to the Slender Man has been less favorable than most cases I have heard of.  While the doctors did, in fact, declare her to be healthy, that was merely her physical condition at the time.  Her physical health has been fluctuating.  Her mental state, however, has not.  No, that has, unfortunately, been on a steady decline.  She does not look delicate or fragile.  No, that was a day or two ago.  As of now, she already looks broken.  Shattered.  My id just wants to grab her and hold her close to me, to whisper in her ear that everything will be all right and that we can survive this all somehow.  My superego, on the other hand, knows that Boyfriend may or may not be lurking just around the corner.  And, of course, that it is not exactly socially acceptable to act on feelings I harbor for a taken woman.  But how can I not care?  After all, she’s perhaps the most incredible Girl I have met.  It’s rather unfortunate that I can’t even tell you why, for privacy reasons.

And also quite unfortunate that she seems to feel the need to stop me every time I attempt to confront that Slim-figured Gentleman.

Saturday, April 2, 2011

Untitled 5


Girl saw him.  I knew this was coming.  It was inevitable.  She expected it.  I expected it.  Still, not good at all.

We’ve got one class together.  We’ve been spending more time together lately (thank God she doesn’t seem to hate me anymore), so we were walking together and talking with each other on the way back to our dorms.  And then she started shivering.  Like, her teeth were chattering.  It wasn’t really all that cold, but she didn’t have a jacket, either.  Gentleman that I am, I was about to offer her mine, when she doubled over, breathing heavily.

I dropped to her side as she collapsed to her hands and knees and started vomiting on the ground.  She retched three times, I think, and then she turned and looked at me.

Him,” she gasped out before her arms started shaking and she collapsed to the ground and started convulsing.  People had started crowding around at this point, and a few people helped me restrain her.  As I held her down, I looked off into the distance to see the Slender Man.  Just standing there.  He extended a hand, palm up, and I watched as…as the entire arm just sort of…blurred.  It blurred, as if my vision was going out, but only around the area of that one arm.  When I looked again, there were two arms instead of one.  Or maybe three.  I couldn’t tell.  Maybe there were some tentacles too.  It just…it didn’t look right.

I glanced back down at Girl, who was starting to calm down.  She looked at me, this absolutely helpless look in her eyes.  She grabbed onto my arm with her hand, and I could feel her arm quivering.  She was scared.  She was so fucking terrified.  I could see it.  I could feel it.  Fuck.  When it was just me, I could deal with the fear.  I could push through it.  But someone else’s fear?  I have to feel that.  My own fear I can handle.  Someone else’s?  Not so much.

She just stared at me, tears in her eyes, just mouthing “Him,” over and over.  And then her nose began to bleed.  It started small.  Just a small bit of blood, welling up into a bubble in her nostril.  And then the tension broke, and it started flowing down all over her face.

My vision started to go blurry.  It was my whole vision that time.  The next thing I remember, Someone had an arm around me, supporting me as I leaned on them for strength.  As if I didn’t have enough blacking out when the Slender Man is around.  I’ve gotta deal with normal fainting, too.

Shit.  This is bad for so many different reasons.  They got Girl to the hospital.  She’s there now.  It sounds like she’s recovering quickly, but she nearly died by choking on her own vomit.  She’s actually pretty lucky to be alive right now.  Just…please pray for her recovery.


Thursday, March 31, 2011

That Proxies Post Thing That I Promised


Yeah, okay, I was going to post this thing about proxies and then I got busy and stressed and that stuff and now I’m resorting to sugar and caffeine to make me happy so yeah!  I’m only half coherent!  Yeah!

But right.  Proxies.  The ones in Chicago were a bit different.  They seemed more like your “traditional” proxies.  You know, the ones that are like “we loves the Master and has no sense of self!”  They act like Agents (those dudes who follow the Slender Man of their own free will because they were batshit fucking insane in the first place), only they’ve clearly been forced to do that.  The ones I’ve dealt with, for the most part, have been different.  They’re more random normal people that he randomly…I dunno, possesses, almost?  He uses them like puppets, causing them to become aggressive and feral for a bit of time.

So what’s the difference?  Well, I think it might have to do something with population.  I’m in a relatively small community with a low crime rate.  If someone loses their Marble Hornets and starts killing people, people are gonna start to notice.  So he uses random people for a brief period of time to go unnoticed.  In a big city, however, what’s one more individual?  Especially the homeless.  No one will miss those guys.  I mean, who’s the last homeless guy you know who went missing and you cared about his welfare?  That’s what I thought.  And that’s why so many proxies kind of look like bums.  Because they are.

So in a smaller area, he’ll probably use less conspicuous puppet-like proxies and in a bigger city, he’ll use the hallowed or whatever they’re called.  More or less, the higher the crime rate and the general anonymity climb, the more fully devoid of self the proxies are.  Something like that.

And that was less complicated and postworthy than I thought.  Well, either way, later.  I’ve got a Mountain Dew that’s calling my name.  Maybe if I’m too jittery to be depressed, that tapping on my window will stop.


Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Appy Polly Loggies, O Brothers


I’m…sorry about that last post.  It really ended up in a different place than it started.  Girl (yes, “Girl” is as much of a name as I’m giving you on here…remaining anonymous is probably best for now) called me up after she read the post, then came over.  It was…tough.  I broke down crying in front of her.  Yeah, pathetic, right?  Fucking sobbing.

Let me explain myself a bit more now that I’m in rational mode and not rant mode.  This is…tough for me.  I’ve been putting on a happy face.  I’ve really only mentioned three encounters with him here: my first encounter, that one time I was alone in the dorms, and the encounter in the Labyrinth.  But I’ve seen him way more than three times.  I go to a lot of parties, just trying to enjoy myself and get my mind off of him.  I hang out in crowded places where I know he’s not going to do anything to me.  But that doesn’t mean he’s not there.  No, when I’m sitting on the sofa off in the corner, he’s standing there right behind me, whispering thoughts that I should leave into my consciousness.  When I dress up for a nice occasion (like an awards ceremony, banquet, choir performance or whatever it is I refuse to let you know I do), he’s standing there at the event brainwhispering at me that he’s jealous of my suit.  And every time he’s around now, Hyde comes out, and Hyde wants to walk away from the group or event so that I can spend some quality one-on-one time with the Slender Man.  He’s actually around quite frequently, even moreso after that whole labyrinth thing.

On top of that, I’m still in school.  I know that a lot of you are running.  You’ve lost everything.  And I’m so sorry for that.  But I haven’t lost everything yet.  I’m determined to keep it that way.  And if I run, what does that do?  All I’ve accomplished is needlessly worrying everyone around me.  So if I leave, I hurt them.  If I stay around, there’s a chance they’ll still be safe.  So I have to try my hardest to look like everything’s fine, because if something about me is off, people will get suspicious and start asking.  All of a sudden, no one around me is safe anymore.

So yeah, I’ve got a bit to be stressed about.  I break down sometimes and start writing about the dark miasma of my soul while crying limpid tears of blood.

So yeah, after finding out that I’ve caused the thing I was working so hard to prevent, I guess I just felt that everything I’ve done was all for nothing.  But hey, after I proved to Girl just how much of a pathetic wuss I am, she decided to at least be there for moral support.  Evidently, she doesn’t blame me for this.  Which is stupid, as it is mostly my fault.  But it’s nice to know that I’ve been forgiven.

But yeah, I’m back.  Much less depressed after a rant and a cry.  Tomorrow I’ll get up a post about that proxy thing I mentioned.


“I Told You So” in 3, 2, 1….


Well, she’s back.  And she’s not happy.  Largely because she’s come to the conclusion that I’m right.  She had the whole paranoia thing and whatnot.  Anyway, I ran into her on campus while she was writing something in one of the opens.  I snuck up behind her, looked over her shoulder and burst out laughing.  It was a dickish move, but I just couldn’t help it.  She had been keeping a time journal.  She started blushing pretty badly, then started actually physically attacking me.  And yes, I know you’re still reading the blog.  Guess what?  You hit like a girl.  Yeah, I’m pissing you off, but I don’t even care by this point.

Anyway, I stopped mocking her pretty much as soon as she admitted that she had lost time.  You all know what that means.  All sorts of bad news.  For both of us, unfortunately.  Because now, I can’t just survive on my own.  I have to help some chucklefuck (yes, I’m talking to you) survive, because she’s pretty incapable on her own.

A tall, faceless abomination stalks two ordinary college students!  Now, they’ve got to learn to work together to avoid getting caught…and killed!  But here’s the catch: to protect everyone, they can’t tell anyone what’s going on!  Will they be able to survive?  Will they fail?  And most importantly, how are they going to explain all the time they’ll inevitably spend together to her boyfriend?  Hilarity Ensues in this wild and wacky adventure that I wish was actually wild, wacky, and an adventure instead of a shitty burden of an existence where absolutely anyone I get close to or start to care about has the chance of getting sucked into a horrible and torturous existence just by even fucking being around me!

I fucking hate all this.  I can’t take this anymore.  The first person I start to reach out to in months, and she’s about to be caused unbelievable pain.  Just because I talked with her.  Just because I had a crush on her.  Just because I was stupid enough to try to spend some one-on-one time with another fucking human being.

I hate staying in crowds.  I hate becoming that freak in the corner who doesn’t talk to anyone or the guy who’s just another generic face in the mob.  I hate not being able to talk to interesting people because I’m worried about their well-being.  I hate keeping this secret from everyone.  I hate that the only people I can go to for comfort are people I can’t trust and people who can’t trust me.  I hate being an asshole to turn people off in the hopes that they’ll avoid me.  I hate that I can’t even fucking trust myself anymore.  I hate that all this has been for absofuckinglutely nothing, because now I’ve fucked up someone else’s life.

And I fucking hate that I’m not strong enough to handle all this.  I can’t do this, guys.  I talk big, but I’m no brave warrior like Zeke.  I’m no great leader like zero.  I don’t have the guts to experiment like Ava or Jeff.  Hell, I’m definitely not like M.  I don’t have the resolve to run and keep everyone I care about safe.  I don’t have the courage to keep going, even when things get tough.  I don’t even have the composure to keep a cool head anymore.  And I fucking hate it.  What am I?  The Hermit’s successor?  Please.  When was the last time you saw me do anything remotely helpful like M did?  Even if I do continue to offer advice, it’s tainted by my untrustworthiness.  Am I a great figurehead?  Only 27 followers says otherwise.  Am I a good role model?  Fuck no, I’m a jackass.  Can I make people laugh or keep them upbeat?  Gee, are you reading the same blogpost that I’m writing?  Can I even fucking do anything worthwhile anymore?

Just…just go away.  All of you.  Just unsubscribe or something.  I don’t want to see you.  I don’t want to talk to you.  And I don’t want you guys to see or talk to me.  I thought I could do so much for you all.  And where am I now?  I’ve failed you at every turn.  I’ve failed myself at every term.  Are you guys still looking at me as M’s successor?  Don’t.  He’s not dead.  He’s alive.  Go back to him.  Just go away and fucking leave me alone.

This is the fucking least pleasant “I told you so” ever.


Saturday, March 26, 2011

In Which My Foot Becomes Lodged In My Mouth



So.  Turns out that this girl reads my blog.  What are the fucking odds?  Also, something gives me the impression that I’m in deep shit right now, because she dragged me over to a computer, sat me down, and forced me to write a new post.

Oh, of course.  She’s asking to write.  How stupid of me.  Don’t have to get so pissy about it.  Yes, I know you can read over my shoulder.  Shut up and let me lay the ground rules.

One: No names.  You have to call me Jekyll.  You can’t call anyone else by anything.  We don’t want to put them at risk.  Two: I get to proofread.  I’m sure you’ll understand.  Three: NOTHING THAT GIVES ANY INFORMATION ABOUT WHO WE MIGHT BE OR WHERE WE ARE.  We’re not letting anything slip unless it’s necessary.  Sound fair?  Okay, I’m letting you take the computer now.  Are you happy?

Okay, where to even start?  First of all, you’re telling me that you expect me to be followed by Ol’ Slendy now?  You want to grow up a bit, Jekyll?  Those guys who attacked us were muggers.  He’s not real.  I don’t know whether this is some stupid prank or whether you actually believe all this, but it’s really, really sad either way.

And it’s so hard to type Jekyll instead of your real name.  I mean, I’m having to hit backspace when I write I because you’re making all these stupid paranoid rules about how nobody can no anything, like the smallest bit of information is going to either disprove your story or draw internet stalkers to you.  And I don’t even get a name?  Wow.  Thanks for making a girl feel special.  And why Jekyll?  Why not Hyde?  I mean, you don’t strike me as either of them, so why do I have to choose one or the other?  They’re both dicks, by the way.

Also, you’re Jekyll?  Really?  You’re nothing like Jekyll.  You’re a pretty nice guy in real life.  Jekyll is an asshole.  Showing me this asshole side of yourself?  Not cool.

But I can look past that, since you’re an okay guy.  And we’re pretty good friends.  Here’s the thing though, Jekyll: I have a boyfriend.  How did you miss this?  And good job, putting it on the entire internet to see that “things are going well” with that one girl you think is cute.  I mean, Jesus, at least mention my name.  You’ve completely humiliated me, Jekyll.  So yeah, I’m pretty pissed about that.

I’m getting back at you now.  Fuck you and your proofreading.  I’m just posting this.  I don’t even care that you’re going to be mad, because I don’t want to see you for a while anyway.

Nice post title, by the way.  Guess you didn’t think it would be this accurate.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Ugh…suppose you deserve to know


Okay.  So.  The situation.  What happened back in Chicago.  I think you all deserve to know.  This is, of course, all paraphrased.

So, I was walking around the streets around a mall or business district or something.  I’m being vague partially on purpose and partially because I’m not too familiar with big cities.  But anyway, I’m not alone, because I’m not an idiot.  Everything about me screams “tourist,” and walking around the streets of Chicago at night isn’t a smart move.  At all.  But yeah, I’m walking around with this girl.  Now, I’ll admit that I’ve got a bit of a crush on her.  I’ve talked to her some.  Enough to consider her a friend, but not enough to really know her too well.  I’d been talking to her, and I think things were going really well.  Damn, she’s such a cute thing, too.  Tiny little thing…I’m not particularly tall, but she only comes up to my shoulder.  So I’m walking around with her, talking, and really enjoying myself.

We’re walking around, and then we stop at Starbucks for coffee.  We walk a bit more, and that’s when she drops the bomb.

She looks down at her coffee, looks back up, turns to me and asks “So, have you ever heard of Marble Hornets?”

Fuck.  Fucking shit fuckity fuck fuck.  Fucking fuck shitting fuck on a piss sandwich mixed with fucking shit.

And of course, only then do I look back and notice the three men following us.  And we’ve wandered off the main street in the area a bit.  I try keeping a level head and work on steering us to better-lit areas.  “Why do you ask?” I ask her.

“Just curious,” she says.  “It’s just a series I really enjoy.”  She’s a film major, incidentally.  “It’s a web series—”

“About this faceless guy called the Slender Man, yeah,” I say, cutting her off.  “Seriously, are you really just curious, or….”  I hear the three guys following us start running at this point, so I grab her arm and take off.  And I panicked so I just started running without thinking, and she had no idea why I was dragging her so she was fighting me, so long story short, we ended up cornered on a dark side street.

Again, fuck.

“Father is not happy with you,” they said, all in unison.  “You’re trying to escape.  He doesn’t like it when you don’t play his game.”

Fucking proxies.  Not the ones I usually deal with.  The ones people call hallowed (stupid term) or whatever.  The mindless drones who’ve given up all identity to the Slender Man.

Well, this girls saves my life.  She’s got mace.  Sprays it in one’s eye, and it somehow pains them all.  They must have been on some sort of hivemind thing.  After all, they were talking in unison.  We take advantage of that, bolt to safer streets, and make our way back.

“What the fuck was that?” she screams at me.  “What the fuck?”

“Oh, you should fucking know, miss ‘have you ever heard of Marble Hornets.’  What the fuck were you thinking?”

And it takes her a second for things to register.  “You can’t be serious,” she says.  Here’s the thing: she was legitimately just asking.  She’s a fan of the mythos, yeah, and she actually knows quite a bit about it.  But it’s still all just some internet thing to her.  She’s not being stalked.

Well.  Chances are that she sure as hell is now.

So the next few posts will be, first of all, a rethinking of my view of proxies, followed by my monitoring of the situation.  I’ve been talking to her some, and I’ve got some background now, so I’ll keep you guys posted.


The Dangers of Personas and Symbols


Aaaaaaaand fucking Hyde goes and decides to blab and cocktease at the same time.

Well, I’m all cocktease, because I’ve still gotta talk to this girl a bit before I let you know what’s going on there.

Instead, I’m going to be talking about something I’ve learned about personas and masks, and the symbols we associate with them.  Remember how I bitch about not being able to eat jerky anymore?  Yeah, I do that a lot, don’t I?  That’s because I can’t see a Slim Jim without thinking of him because you idiots decided to nickname him Slim Jim.  Well, I’m guilty myself now.  Because whenever I hear someone mention Jekyll and Hyde or see those drama masks, I think of Jekyll and, as a result, the Slender Man.

It’s like what A said way back when.  Is he still around?  He was an asshole.  I think I said that before, but it’s worth reiterating.  Anyway, that theory of his that the Operator Symbol’s purpose is to make you think of the Slender Man.  Well, we’re doing that ourselves, accidentally.  Single-lettered names.  Specific names.  I saw a commercial for Chase credit cards and thought of Chase, who evidently follows fucking everything.

So, I suppose what my advice is is to either pick something so common that you don’t associate it primarily with the Slender Man, or to pick something so obscure that you’re never going to see it outside the mythos.

Finally, keep in mind others as well.  Sure, you might associate your own name with you and you only, but who’s to say that anyone else knows, say, an Avalesca.  Nothing against you, Ava, just that you have a pretty unusual name.  I don’t know anyone else with your name.  But let’s say that I meet another Ava.

Where does my mind immediately go?

It’s impossible to avoid completely, and I’m not about to change my name or avatar at this point.  But it’s something that you want to at least have in mind.

Oh, also, Tony?  Just finally managed to catch up with your blog.  You’re kind of an asshole.  I like that.  Bestest buds for life?  Okay, sounds good!


Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Untitled 4


It certainly has been a while, hasn’t it my friends?  But fear not, for I have returned!

While my other half may be a bit reluctant with details, I suppose that I personally could elaborate a bit.  You see, it’s a wonderfully tragic story.  A boy goes to a big city with a group and starts spending some time with a girl he feels some attraction to.  He gets to know her quite well.  Things seem like they may be going well.  And then, when they’re on a walk alone together (because, naturally, you never go off on your own in big cities when you’re a tourist), she says something that completely changes everything.

What did she say?  Well, I’m sure that Jekyll would absolutely love to elaborate on that.  I’m such a tease, aren’t I?

And Morningstar, you seem to assume too much.  You honestly think I could or would kill M?  Oh, my friend, you’re sadly mistaken.  I’m not “one of you.”  You forget that I’m merely a persona.  I may be Hyde, but I’m also still Me.  I have neither the stature nor the stomach to kill anyone.  I’m pacifistic for a reason.  In fact, I think I’d be less inclined to attack someone than Jekyll.  No, nonono, I have great respect for M, and very little respect for people like you.  Jekyll and I merely have irreconcilable views on who exactly Our Mutual Friend is.  I fear Him, yes, but He…intrigues me.  I want to learn more.  He is, in many ways, a beautiful being.  I’d like to see what exactly He plans to do.  What His motives are.  And I believe that, as Hyde, He’ll let me live.  He toys with Jekyll.  Jekyll is conceited and aggressive and needs to be put in his place.  But Hyde?  Hyde is an admirer.  And really, would He kill someone so enthralled so quickly?

Jekyll sees Him as something to be avoided.  I see Him as something to be embraced.

So no, I mean none of you any harm.  I will defend myself it attacked, yes.  But fear not, for I’m not a crazy psychopath.  Merely an alternate persona.  I’m still Me.  You’d do well to remember that.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011



Okay, erm…I’ve got a big problem on my hands now.  I don’t have much time to talk, but I’ll see if I can get the info up at some time in the near future.

A bit of good news/bad news, though.  The problem isn’t due to meeting M.  That’s the good news.  The bad news is that I’m almost definitely not going to be meeting M.  We leave early tomorrow, and I don’t think he’s even checked back on my site to see that I want to meet up.  Guess it wasn’t meant to be.  But hey, who knows?  Maybe he’s even lying about still being in Chicago.  That wouldn’t be too surprising coming from M, would it?  Anything to throw them off.

But yeah, shit’s gone down here in Chicago.  Something that’s impacted me pretty heavily.  I need some time to figure out what’s going on.  And to, um…to talk to a person who’s in some pretty deep shit at the moment.

I dunno.  I’ve got a lot of information from Chicago now that I need to think over, and I’m still on that trip.  It may be a bit before anything gets up.


The Night in the City


You’re right, M.  It really never is dark enough.  Especially compared to what I’m used to.  I come from a small town (yeah, that really narrows down where I’m from, doesn’t it?), so it’s a huge culture shock to go from a place where it’s so dark out every night that you can see the breathtaking stars so clearly to a place where you can literally sit down anywhere on the streets at midnight and have enough light to read a book.

At least it’s not too cold, though.  And I’m around good friends.  It’s been a pretty good trip.  Large crowds, so it’s pretty Slender-free.  And if M’s advice to “get up high” really works (which I doubt it does), then it’d be pretty simple between those two things to at least keep him off your back.

Still, I don’t know how M’s survived there for almost three months.

Yeah.  M’s still apparently here.  Which makes for an amazing opportunity.  I might be able to actually meet him.  Maybe.  Chicago’s still a big city, and neither of us really knows what the other looks like, and I’m assuming neither of us is prepared to leak contact or meeting info on the internet just so we can get in touch with each other.  Guess that’s what happens when you have two overly-cautious people trying to meet up.  Not that M’s agreed to meeting yet, of course.  And I’m fully prepared to accept that he might not agree to meet with me.  After all, he really has no reason to, and my reason is that I get a chance to meet an idol of mine.  Not exactly life-pressing circumstances, huh?

Anyway, It’s like my Mecca here or something.  Everything about Chicago has a sort of reverence to it.  I got to go to the top of the Sears Tower (I guess it’s apparently the Willis Tower now?) today, and I just kept thinking “well, I’ve gotten up high now.”  I got dragged to a Starbucks and had myself a private chuckle when I considered getting a cup of “good fucking coffee.”  And I can see how it’d be able to survive here for a while.  As long as you surround yourself with people, you’re gonna be safe, and in a city, you can probably get up high pretty easily.  It’s not

But…yeah.  I’m hoping it’ll work out to meet with him.  I dunno, if you agree, M, let’s see if we can set up a meeting place.

But anyway, I’ve…learned something recently.  Something worth thinking about.  I’ll update about that when I have the time.

M, if you’re up for a meeting…let’s try to find something out.  I’m here for another day or two.  I hope it works out.  And if not…well, it’s probably for the best.


Friday, March 18, 2011




M is alive.  Fucking M is alive.  Commented on his own blog and on The Mystic on the 10th.

Why the fuck did no one think this was worth mentioning to me?  Oh, wait, I know.  It was because I was trying to break away at the time, wasn’t it?  And you all, like considerate people, purposely didn’t try to remind me because that would pull me back, right?  That’s what I’ll assume, anyway.  Thanks for that.

But yeah…M’s alive.  Maybe not back, and the few pieces of information he did leave don’t say much at all, but he’s alive.

On that note, I’m going on a trip this week with a bunch of other people, and that trip will take me to Chicago at one point.  M’s probably not there anymore, but M, if you’re reading this, let me know.  I’d love to meet up.

Oh, yeah, and, erm…sorry about taking your job and everything.


Friday, March 11, 2011

Thank God for Midterms


Well, I’ve got my midterms coming up.  Which is the best possible thing at the moment.  I really need something to keep my mind off of things, especially with Hyde now.  Hyde may be Slendy’s newest fanboy, but he has to be thinking of him in order to keep him around constantly.  And since I’ve got midterms on my mind, Hyde is being shoved further back into my subconscious.  As is Jekyll.

This isn’t really either of them that you’re talking to.  This is me.  The nameless, faceless anonymous, guy who sometimes pretends he’s a famous literary figure.  The college student who became a bit too big of a fan of the Slender Man Mythos.  The guy who’s more worried about his grades than about a dapper guy who stalks and eviscerates people that doesn’t really exist.  Except that he does.  But I make sure that it’s just Jekyll and Hyde that he exists to.  Not to me.

So I haven’t had time to catch up on blogs, have been trying to distance myself from the blogs anyway, and am keeping preoccupied with other things.  Like coursework.

I know that this won’t be permanent.  It’s not possible to escape it completely.  Robert escaped, and he got pulled back in.  But I’m currently at the point that I can write on this and not get worried.  It’s not real to me at the moment.  It just feel like this is all some story.  And it’s all because I become the Jekyll persona around him.

And now, thanks to that, I’m not to worried for now.  Like I said, I can’t escape completely.  I’ll be back.  But for just a bit…it’s goodbye.

Good luck, everyone.  Hopefully, I’ll be fine.

Well, time to sign off.

But not as Jekyll.  Not as Hyde. 

Just me.

Monday, March 7, 2011

Never Gonna Run Around and Desert You


I have a dilemma now.

I’m a servant of the Slender Man.  Well, kind of.  Not really.  Hyde is.  But which persona serves him is kind of moot at this point.  The point is, I can’t trust myself anymore.  I don’t know if I can trust myself to give you good advice.  I don’t even know if I can trust myself around people.

I went out to the memorial I made for M today.  I just sat there.  I don’t know what do do.  I don’t even know what to fucking do.  What would M have done?  He would have run.  He would have taken off right then and there to protect the people around him.

But I’m not M.  I’m not a runner.  And I’m not about to take off now, just because I’m worried.  He wants to get me alone.  It’s not safe alone.  As soon as I go on the run, he’ll pick me of while I’m helpless.  Even if I can outrun him somehow, like M did…well, there’s a part of me that will keep me from running as hard as I can.  A part of me that will wonder if it’s really worth running.  If he’s really all that bad.

A part of me that will try to turn back.

So I’m not running.  Maybe it’s because I’m too brave to run.  Maybe it’s because I’m too much of a coward.  Either way, I’m staying here.

I really, really hope this is the right choice.


Sunday, March 6, 2011

Untitled 3


A strange thing, memory.  I’m sure that you all recall my lack of recollection in regards to the labyrinth.  But the more time I stay Me, the more clear my memories become.

I left my dearest readers hanging as a fog rolled in.  A fog inside!  Can you even imagine?  Peculiar, is it not?  But then again, considering who it is we speak of, it is not all that surprising.

At this point, I was nearly unconscious.  Fatigue, hunger, and thirst had quite caught up to me.  At first, I was certain I was hallucinating.  First the fog, and then Our Mutual Friend himself.  He emerged from the fog at the end of the hallway, and the only thought I could muster was “why, I’ve gone mad!  Stark raving mad!”

Nevertheless, I prepared to charge.  However, as he approached, I was filled with that pervasive feeling.  That numbing, paralyzing feeling.  That freezing heat and that burning cold.  The whispers.  Oh, those whispers.  Echoing, speaking incomprehensible thoughts into my mind.

And the fear!  Oh, how the fear returned.  And yet, at the same time, I felt a strange comfort in his presence, as if his arrival signified that everything was suddenly right again.  And who knows?  Perhaps it was.

He continued to approach.  The fog obstructed my view of him, and my waning grasp on consciousness made me question what exactly I saw anyway.  I had remembered his motion being awkward and jilted.  Now, it seemed almost elegant and graceful, even…dare I say it?

He looked beautiful.  He moved as a reed in the wind, bending without breaking, gliding along with the flow of the universe.  Perhaps, in our plane of existence, he is freakish.  But here, in his own world, he appeared how he should: as a creature of elegance and beauty.

He came close to me…closer than he had ever been.  I have, actually, seen him perhaps five times.  Four from a distance or within a throng of people or while in other safe havens.  The closest he had been was that first encounter along the running trail through the trees.  But now…now he was even closer.

He stopped when he was right before me.  I had collapsed to the ground by this point, but, using the wall as a brace, I pulled myself up, turning to look directly at him.

He spread his arms welcomingly, as if to say “I mean you no harm.”  They were spread so wide…all the better to embrace me with.  I stood enthralled.  Entranced.

And then, slowly, I spread my arms in return and took a step towards him.

I passed out.  It was not memory loss; I distinctly remember losing consciousness.  When I awoke, I was safe within my own bed.  And, well…I do believe I have already recounted the rest of the tale.  So I suppose that I need not waste your time any longer.

Until next time, my friends.

Friday, March 4, 2011

My Mysterious Case


Well, I’ve been trying to figure some things out with this whole “spit personality” thing, and I’m posting what I’ve figured out so far here.

First of all, I’m Hyde.  Well, no, let me rephrase that.  I’m Jekyll right now.  But I’m both Jekyll and Hyde.  Let me elaborate: Jekyll and Hyde aren’t exactly a split personality.  They’re more like different elements of the subconscious, or different personas.  I’m looking back over the posts that Hyde made, and I’m finding that I can remember making every single one of them.  That’s…not how things should be.  If I’m a proxy, I shouldn’t be able to remember things at all, from all the past instances I’ve seen.  I’m not sure if I am one or not at this point.

See, every post that Hyde makes, I remember posting.  I look over it and say “yeah, I remember writing that.”  I just look back over it after it’s posted and go “what the hell was I thinking when I wrote that?”  It seems less like Jekyll and Hyde are different personalities, and more like they’re different personas. 

Here’s the scary thing.  The Hyde persona doesn’t seem to be one I’m consciously taking on.  It seems like Hyde is a part of my subconscious that’s being pulled out.  I’ve seen him post on a few other blogs, and it’s kind of painful to read, just because I know that I kind of actually think like that. 

He posted on Kaiju’s blog here, and then here, asking (rather agressively) to join NAPPA.  It was a pretty transparent ruse, disgustingly easy to see through.  And when I read it, I can’t help but think that this is me trying to say “I told you so” to him.  It’s no secret that I’ve never trusted organizations, and I’m really not a big advocate of actively engaging proxies.  This is me flaming Kaiju as Hyde, trying to get in to say “hey, look, you accept untrustworthy people into your organization.”  (Speaking of which, I couldn’t catch back up on YggdrasilCore’s blog when I tried pulling myself away for a bit…is he a proxy now or something?  I can’t quite tell)

Also, he posted on White Elephants here.  This is the one that really worries me.  His post on Robert is kind of exactly what I think of the man.  Robert is batshit fucking insane by this point.  I stand by that assertion.  But Hyde’s not putting it in the way I would.  He’s baiting him, speaking in a snarky pretentious “British Gentleman’s” voice, as far as I can tell. 

So think of it like this.  Hyde’s kind of like me, only a troll.  Or if you think that Jekyll’s a troll too, a different kind of troll.  A worse kind.  Because Hyde has an agenda.  I don’t know what it is, yet, but I know that it has something to do with me being broken in the labyrinth.  Jekyll’s still the same guy that you’ve known all this time, but Hyde’s working for the Slender Man.

Oh, incidentally, he let me know what blogs he posted on by writing a note.  My handwriting.  Cursive, like I normally write in.  Only the slant is the opposite direction.  Real fucking clever, Hyde.  Real fucking clever.


Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Oh, FUCK no!



Hey, what I was saying about wanting to involve myself in the community and help out more?  Forget everything I said.  I didn’t post that last update.  Well, I had to have, because no one else knows the password to this account, but the more important thing is that I don’t remember posting it.  Remember back when I said I didn’t have a split personality?  Well that’s evidently not true anymore.

I don’t know what’s going on, but you can’t trust me any more.  Well, you can trust me, but you can’t trust the other me.  I’m not going to be meeting up with any of you, because I don’t know exactly how this split personality thing works yet, and more importantly, I don’t know what would trigger it.  I can’t risk hurting any of you.  I’ll see if I can get advice through yet, but if you need help, I’m sorry, but you’re on your own.

I’m dangerous now.  Stay the fuck away from me.

Jekyll (since I’m evidently going to have to let you know it’s me from now on)

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Untitled 2


Oh, hello again, my friends.  I’m terribly sorry…I didn’t hear you come in.

As I have said, I have returned from my little…excursion.  But fear not, for I am quite well!  I took some time to think things over, and have had quite the change of heart.  Perhaps, much as it pains me to say it, Morningstar is right.  Perhaps I am not a worthy successor to M.  Will is safe, yes, but what happened to him could have just as easily happened to anyone.  It could happen again.  In fact, it is happening, in many different places, even as we speak.  Robert was correct: I need to take action and actually help out some.

I would absolutely love to enter into a less reluctant fellowship with all of you.  Perhaps we could even meet up at some point and travel together.

I know that I’ve been…well, I’ve been rude in the past, to put it mildly.  A loner.  Refusing to associate with anyone.  Well, since I’m considering relinquishing my claim as M’s successor, I may as well drop the “Hermit” act that comes with it.  My friends, this is the beginning of a new me.  A new, eager, enthusiastic me.

It will be an absolute honor serving with you all.

Well, would you look at the time?  Regrettably, I really must be off!  However, I look forward to your response with eager anticipation.

Sincerely yours,


Monday, February 28, 2011

This was a Triumph?


Well, at the very least, I’m still alive.

I’m sure you’re all wondering what’s going on.  How I’m alive.  How I escaped.  What exactly went on in that labyrinth.  I’m really sorry, but I don’t really know.

I woke up this morning.  Monday.  5:55 AM sharp.  I was in my bed in my dorm room.  Fully dressed.  I checked out my blog, saw the posts, and could only vaguely remember things.  I kept having this feeling like some of the stuff I wrote didn’t come through, or that I read comments that weren’t actually there, or that there were some comments that never sent.  And really, after that 6th post, I don’t remember anything.

I’m out of the labyrinth now.  I’m sure of that.  I don’t know if it was all within my mind or if it was physically real or something, but it’s obvious that it was real in some form.  And, surprisingly, I was alive.  There I was, all ready to die.  I saw him.  I know that he was there.  I can remember that.  Even if I can’t remember the details, I know I faced off against him.  I…I can’t have won, could I have?  I’d like to think that I did, but by that last post, I could barely think straight.

I just…woke up.  I was ravenously hungry.  I was parched.  I couldn’t remember anything.  But I was alive.  I am alive.  And it’s a great feeling.

Unfortunately, there’s a bit of a problem.  It seems that, during my breakdown, Will offered to help me, and I actually accepted his help.  And then some (X) guy captured him.  All because he tried helping me.

I don’t know.  I don’t fucking know anymore.  Apparently, the labyrinth wasn’t messing with just my mind.  I said something about not getting in contact with Will.  I never received his e-mail address.  But…something sent somehow?  I don’t know, some of your comments are all screwed up.  It’s either my blog, or it was somehow messing with you, too.  I think it should be back to normal now that I’m out of the labyrinth now.

See, this is why I don’t fucking team up.  If he doesn’t get out of this, his blood is on my hands.  It’s my fault.  And I can’t have that.  You guys see why I’m such an ass?  I don’t want you getting close.  You get close, and stuff like this happens.  If I bitch at you about how stupid you are and how I’m better than you and how you’re all unreliable, it’s because I don’t want you to like me.  I don’t want you to trust me.  You see what happens when you get close?  It makes this shit so much harder.

God…I can’t believe I broke down and let Will get involved in this.  Or was I just bait for Will?  Or both?  Fuck.  I don’t know what the main goal of that labyrinth was, but it seems like it fucked everything up.  I broke down.  Or almost did.  I’m still not sure.  Either way, I broke down enough to make a bad decision.  I found out I wasn’t as prepared or smart as I thought I was.  I fucked someone else over.  I let down everyone I looked up to, and everyone who looked up to me.

God, I’m such a fuckup.

But hey, at least I’m alive.

I don’t know…I…I think I need to figure out how to help Will.  But I don’t think I can get in contact with him anymore, with the fuckwad with the Operator Symbol for a name taking over his blog.  I need to try, though.

I need just a little bit of time.  Less than a week, probably.  I need to rethink a few things.  But when I come back, I’m probably going to try involving myself some more with you guys.  It’s the least I can do to help Will.  Hell, I might even try helping Kaiju out and joining NAPPA.  I’ll have to consider before I make it official, though.

Oh, by the way, (X)hole, it’s “Jekyll,” not “Jekel.”  Learn to fucking read.

Sunday, February 27, 2011



5:55.  5:55.  I am so sick of seeing 5:55 over and over.  And I know it’s not 5:55 anymore.  It usually takes me a few minutes to write up a post, and I know that I’ve been walking for a while.  I’m not sure how long, but I’m damn sure that it’s been at least a minute.  But no, the fucking clock just says 5:55 over and over again.  I check my laptop.  5:55.  I check my phone.  5:55.  Five Fucking Fifty-Five, and it is fucking everywhere in my mind.

I didn’t pay attention to the numbers on the door at first.  I’m doing that now, and ever door number is 555.  That shouldn’t be right.  There isn’t even a fifth floor.  He knows I’m breaking down, and he’s mocking me.  He’s getting to me.

I think…I think I’m officially outside of time.  Most of the comments are making more sense now, but there are still a few things out of place.  I’m thinking that I’m not sending and receiving the same messages at the same time as you.  Getting things that haven’t been sent yet.  Not getting things that have.  And the same is probably true for you guys on my blog, judging from some of the responses I’ve gotten.

Fuck.  I just…fuck.  I can’t do this.  He’s fucking around with time now.  I can’t even ask you guys what time it is.  I’m…I don’t know if I can do this much longer.  I just want to sit down and have a nice sob for a while, but I know I’ll never get out of the labyrinth that way.  How the hell do  get out, anyway?  Find the exit?  Yeah, good luck with that.  Find some sort of epiphany?  What the hell am I supposed to get enlightened about?  Jeez…Will, I’m just about tempted to take you up on that offer.  Don’t count it completely out of the question yet.

I can’t do this.  I dunno.  I’m getting repetitive now, but I can’t even fucking think anymore.  I’m hungry, but I’m out of food.  I’m thirsty, but I haven’t seen a fountain in a while.  I’m tired, but I can’t risk going to sleep here.  And I don’t even fucking know what’s going on.  This is the first time in all of this when I’ve felt completely helpless.  I was prepared for this situation.  That’s why I had the food and the string.  There are some things I guess you can’t really prepare for, though.  I was proud of my survival knowledge, and the Slender Man put me here to let me know that I have no right to be proud.  I think that might be why I’m here.

Now how the fuck do I get out?

Ah, well.  Back to walking and singing.

Iiiiii’m not siiiiiiiick…but I’m not weeeeeeeeeell…and I’m so hooooooooot….

‘Cause I’m in hell….

We’re at number 6 now.


Dance magic, dance

Dance magic, dance

Put that baby spell on me

Jump magic, jump

Jump magic, jump,

Put that magic jump on me

Slap that baby make him free


I can’t do this any longer.  I CAN’T FUCKING DO THIS ANY LONGER.  I sit here, refreshing the comments, waiting to hear back from Will.  I don’t have any way to contact him yet.

Oh, and to everyone who said that it was Theseus, thanks.  I’ve seen a response or two about that already now.

Well, I’m out of food.  Been out of food for a while now.  Can’t find any water.  Haven’t slept in I don’t know how long.  Keep feeling like I’m going to doze off, just sitting here.  I know that falling asleep is the worst thing that can happen, though.  I’m going to go until I physically can’t anymore.  I can’t even find the strength to walk, and I can barely talk.  The only reason this post is so coherent is because I promised myself when I started that I would not write in code.  I refuse to make any typos that could be interpreted as code.

Heh.  Looks like I’m gonna die here.  Fizzy went the same way, didn’t she?

Well, I’m sorry, M.  I guess I’ve failed to continue your legacy.  Sorry.  I’m a screwup.  I couldn’t even get out of a damn labyrinth.

I failed.  I screwed up.  I mean, all I really wanted was help a few people survive.  And I couldn’t do that myself.  Looks like I’m useless.

Shit, NO!  That’s how he WANTS me to think!  Fuck!  I’m breaking down!  He’s getting to me!  If he comes now, when I’m like this, that’s…fuck, that’s what he’s been doing this whole time, hasn’t it?  Fuck, I’m so glad I woke up a bit there.

Oh, shit.  Fog.  There’s fog now.  Fuck.  It’s rolling into the hallway.  He’s coming soon.  I don’t know how long, but it’ll be soon.  I don’t think I have much more time with this post.

He’s coming to either kill me, or to completely break me.  Make me his servant.  A proxy, or whatever.  Well, I’d rather die than work for you.  Especially now that you don’t have that Andrew guy working for you.  He seemed like such a nice guy.  Shame he quit, huh?

Well, I suppose it’s time for me to go.  This is probably my last post.  Or maybe there’ll be five more, depending on when you get this.  But if I’m going down, I’m going down fighting.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a twenny with this guy’s name on it.  I doubt it’s gonna work, but it’s at least worth trying.

Well, all right.  Let’s do this chums.


Erm, bad news, I guess


So it turns out that the string/twine/whatever thing doesn’t exactly work.  I walked around for a while, letting out some string, keeping it taut to make sure that it was still tied to the fountain.  I got to the end of my literal rope and still had no idea where I was.  So I decided to follow the line back to the fountain.

I managed to get back up a flight of stairs to find that the string was stuck in a wall.  Not caught or snagged on a wall or stuck to a wall.  Stuck in a wall.  Like whoever built it put the string in there when the concrete was still drying.  Yeah.  I’m starting to feel just a little boned.  I was convinced that this would work.  That Perseus or whoever guy (really guys, still no help?) had something going for him in his labyrinth, so I was sure it would work for me.  I guess it doesn’t work here.

Still trying to figure out if this is within my mind or not.  It almost feels like a dream.  But I’m getting a bit hungry/thirsty now.

It’s such a weird place.  Sometimes I’ll come down a staircase and open a door and there’ll be a staircase on the other side.  And sometimes I’ll enter a hallway and walk a bit and then turn around and find that it stretches endlessly behind me with no trace of the way I came.  And then I turn back around again and it’s also stretching on indefinitely in front of me, too.  That’s probably why the string didn’t work—because the labyrinth is constantly shifting.

I haven’t found an outlet in a while.  It’s been…I don’t know how long since my last post, but it feels like a while, so I thought I’d post again.  I’ve been checking the comments every now and then, and they don’t seem to make any sense.  Well, okay, I understand what they say, but it’s like you’re reading a different post than me.  There seems to be absolutely no context with what you’re writing.  You guys aren’t crazy, are you?

Well, anyway, I’ve had a lot of time to think, so I’ve been thinking about what exactly this labyrinth is.  Is it in my own head?  That’s a possibility, and it kind of makes sense.  I mean, this place is exactly like my dorms.  Except that it’s like it’s a video game with a bunch of different landscape elements that people just seemed to randomly copy and paste.  Like I said, I’ve only got three floors in this dorm.  There’s not all that much here.  But it seems like I’ll run into a room that’s set up like the 3rd floor lounge, only with the décor of the 1st floor lounge.  It’s like it’s my dorms, only it’s not quite.  That and the fact that there’s ABSOLUTELY NO ONE HERE.

My computer is so slow right now.  I’ve pretty much decided not to go anywhere other than my blog by this point, just because it takes a minute or two just for a comment to post.  Or it feels like a minute or two.  I don’t know, because I have no fucking concept of time anymore.  I don’t know how long I’ve been here.  It feels like forever.  But when I check the clock, it’s still stuck at the last time that I turned on my computer: 5:55.  It never changes.  No matter how often, it never changes.

I feel like I’m starting to go just a little bit crazy.

Gah!  No!  Stay strong, Jekyll!  You’re not batshit insane yet.

That’s the other thing, though.  I’ve got the Slender Man constantly on my mind.  But I haven’t seen him at all.  I haven’t even felt his presence, even though this is undoubtedly his doing.  It’s like he’s not here.  Maybe it’s because he’s outside of the labyrinth.  Maybe it exists in its own time and space, or on its own plane, which I’m not on.

Fuck, maybe he IS the labyrinth.  Maybe I’m somehow inside of him or he’s inside of me or our minds have merged or something or…you know, I don’t even know how to say what I’m thinking.  But fuck, man.  Fuck.  I just…fuck.

I dunno, I’ll give you an update again later.