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.  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

FUCK FUCK IT’S NOT WORKING

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.

LEEEEEEEROOOOOOOOY….

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 d├ęcor 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.

Saturday, February 26, 2011

Really starting to worry

 

I don’t know how much longer I can do this.  It’s been…again, I don’t know.  Hours?  Days?  Maybe even minutes.  I don’t know, because the clock still keeps telling me 5:55.  Fuck you, clock.  I know it’s not 5:55 anymore.  I don’t care what you say.

Everything’s still busy when I try calling it, by the way.

So I’ve been thinking more about my theories in my last post, and I’m going to lean to two of the three options.  One is that it’s all in my head.  The Slender Man’s just making me go around in circles in my dorm.  Or even better, I’m “asleep” and I just think I’m going around in my dorm.  Why would he do that?  Well, to break me, for one thing.  If not that, it’s maybe because he doesn’t want me to leave.

The other option is that it’s on another plane of reality or something.  I’ve been warped to a mock version of the dorm.  That’s another option, I suppose, and it works just as well.  The same reasons apply.

Heh.  Guess I must be a legitimate threat or something now.  Or maybe he just wants to break me.  But that still implies that I’m a threat.  I’m flattered, really.

Well.  One good thing about this is that I’ve had enough time to sit down and get all my homework done.  I’ve had plenty of spare time.  On the other hand, maybe I’ve already missed the deadline for all my homework.  I don’t know how long I’ve been here, after all.

*sigh*  I don’t know if I can do this anymore.  I’m close to breaking.  I’m looking at the comments, but they don’t make sense.  It’s like you guys are being cryptic or something, or reading a completely different post than I am.  Either way, your help isn’t getting through to me.  Unless you’re not trying to help and this is just payback for me being such an ass.  In which case, I’m even more alone.

Trying to read those comments you guys left me back on Valentine’s Day again.  The ones where I had the breakdown and you all said you were there for me.  I can’t.  The page isn’t loading.  “Can’t let you view that, Firefox,” says Wolf.

…nope.  That didn’t cheer me up.  Fuck, guys, I’m just about crying.  I don’t want this to be crying.  I know that means that he’s breaking me.  I can’t let him beat me.  If I’m trying to be M’s successor, if I’m trying to make things up to Robert, if I’m trying to prove to all of you that I’m not really as big of a jerk as I come across….

Fuck.  I can’t let him do this to me.  Mentally strong, Jekyll.  Mentally strong.  Let’s see…Psalm 23, that should do the trick.  I’ve mentioned before that I’m Christian, I believe.  I think I’ve also mentioned that I’m probably not a particularly good one.  I don’t care if you don’t believe in God.  Just don’t get all pissed about it.  Don’t ask how I can believe in angels when I’m dealing with a demon.

Right, Psalm 23. 

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me….

Well…I dunno.  Hopefully I can get out of here.  I’ll keep you updated.

I can’t do this any longer

 

5:55.  555.  It’s everywhere.  And I can’t feel his presence at all.  I can ALWAYS tell when he’s around.  And he’s obviously around.  He’s behind this.  I KNOW he’s fucking behind this.  So WHY THE FUCK CAN’T I FEEL HIM?

Come out, you skinny bastard!  Come on!  I’m willing to meet you!  Just do me a favor and FUCKING SHOW YOURSELF.  I can’t take this anymore!  Just come out!  You wanna do me a fucking favor here?

555.  I never wanna see that fucking number in my life again.  Fucking number. Mocking me.  Telling me “hey, guess what?  You’re not anywhere real anymore.  Time and space have no meaning here.  You’re in a fucking three floor building that takes up about 5 billion cubic miles.”

Oh, wait, just because you guys probably don’t know…this is the 5th post.  Yeah, the number 5 again.  I dunno what number it is for you guys.

Fuck!  Okay, Will, I give.  I’ll give you my location.  But just you.  How do I get in contact with you?  Or I dunno.  Maybe you’re not supposed to give me that info.  I haven’t seen anything about it yet.  Hell, maybe you won’t get this until I’m out of the labyrinth.  Maybe I won’t get the info you get me until it’s too late already.  But hey, I’m holding out some hope yet.

Fucking number 5. I need to get the fuck out of here.  And soon.

Friday, February 25, 2011

Dance Magic

You remind me of the babe (What babe?)

The babe with the power (What power?)

The power of voodoo (Who do?)

You do! (Do what?)

Remind me of the babe!

Erm, sorry.  I’m just kind of trying to keep my spirits up at the moment, and this song is the only way I know how, see, as you may have guessed, I’ve sort of run into a problem.  Let me start from the beginning.  I’ve got plenty of time to explain.

So.  This weekend, I decided I might go visit home.  I grabbed a bag of my stuff and my laptop, and headed out the door of my dorm room.  And then down a flight of stairs.  And then another.  And another.  And another.  And another.  And it’s at this point that it dawns on my that there are only three flights of stairs in my building.  I stop on the tenth floor from the top and head the hallway on that floor.  Doors line the hallway, just like they normally do, but there’s no nametags or anything on the doors.  I check the doors.  All locked.  Except for the bathroom.  I push it open, look around.  And then I head back out the door.

The water fountain is on the wall across from the bathroom door.  When I entered, it was on the same wall.  It’s at this point that I’ve pretty much confirmed that, yeah, I’m stuck in a fucking labyrinth.

So, I’ve heard of these.  They’ve happened.  He uses them now and then.  And I’ve prepared for them.  I’ve got a roll of twine with me in by bag.  Just like in that myth with…Perseus, was it?  I dunno, I can’t remember and I don’t have much to look up.

Fortunately, there’s an outlet nearby, and my internet connection still works (though it’s horribly slow, so any sort of videos are out of the question—it took minutes just to load my blog).  So I’ve got communication.  I suppose I’m still in the building.  Water fountain also works, so at least I’ve got water.  No food, though.  At least I ate not too long ago, so I won’t be hungry for a while.  I’m also noticing that my laptop’s clock hasn’t changed at all since I booted it.  Neither has my cell phone’s time display (and yes, I’ve tried calling people…it’s always a busy tone, no matter who I call).  I don’t know if that’s an electronic thing, or the fact that time’s not running the same here.  Note to self: get analogue watch, or watch that runs with gears for the next time I’m stuck in a labyrinth.

Twists and turns everywhere and alien fucking geometries.  Jeez, I keep looking up, expecting to see David Bowie’s crotch staring me in the face.

Well, I’m going to tie that string to the water fountain and see if I can make it out of here.  Wish me luck.  But don’t freak out for me.  I’ll be fine.  I can handle this.  It’s just a little maze.  A puzzle.  I like puzzles.  And hey, I’ve still got my laptop.  No reason to be in bad spirits.  *walks off humming “Dance Magic” again*

Thursday, February 24, 2011

On Organizations and Meetups

 

Okay, this is something I’ve gotta say.  Many of you aren’t going to agree with me, and I’m going to be in rant mode for a bit.  I don’t care.  I’m not here to make friends.  I’m here to survive.  And my survival plan does not involve meeting up with other people.

There has, lately, been an increase in associations/resistances/alliances/initiatives/etc.  It’s like Robert’s Core Theory, only not quite.  You’ve got the Keepers Alliance.  The Isabel Initiative.  NAPPA.  And probably a few more.  People are meeting up in areas like Boston and going on the offensive.  Personally, I believe that anyone involved in this is a bit of an idiot.

This is largely based on the assumption that pretty much everyone is a bit crazy.  Don’t get me wrong.  It’s not that I don’t like you guys.  I like some of you, and I respect most of you.  It’s just that I don’t trust any of you.  And like I said before, I don’t really think you should trust me all that much, either.  Ironic, considering how I’m essentially proclaiming myself as M’s successor.

Listen, before I continue, it’s your choice whether or not you want to work with others.  I’ll explain why you maybe (i.e., probably) shouldn’t, but this is largely my own choice.  I understand that there are strength in numbers, and it can be easier to stay sane around other people going through the same thing.  I remain alone by choice.  It’s the right choice, but you don’t have to make that choice if you don’t want to.

So, without targeting anything in specific, why shouldn’t you trust these groups?  Because, first and foremost, you have no clue who’s on the other side of the screen.  They’ve maybe been broken, and are now completely crazy.  Insanity shows up in many forms, and while some are pretty easy to see over the internet, others are less so.  Hell, take Damien. Did we think Damien was crazy?  Okay, well, we did, but we didn’t think he was nearly as crazy as he ended up being.  We thought he was going insane, yes, but we didn’t realize that it’s quite possible that over half of his story was fabricated.

Another reason is that someone you trust may not be trustworthy at all.  But if they’re a proxy, you’d be able to tell, right?  Of course!  Because redlight hasn’t proven himself capable at all, has he?  Or themselves/they.  Since it’s evidently a title and not a name.  I don’t even know anymore.  But no, seriously, redlight has proved that they’re capable of thinking, and more importantly, capable of being quite clever.  Anyone in your organization could quite easily be a mole.  Maybe they’re feeding bad information to you.  Maybe they’re gathering private information from you.  Maybe they’re organizing a meetup that’s actually a trap.  All they have to do is earn your trust.

Those are the main two reasons.  There are a few other reasons not to put your faith in organizations, though.  For example, even if you’re not completely batshit insane, it’s possible that the Slender Man is toying with you.  He’s maybe not as dumb as he looks.  Take electromagnetism or whatever new-fangled thing you kids are fighting him with these days.  So he reacts negatively to it once or twice.  You think “hey, this is great!  We can fight him!”  And then you all gear up to use that as a weapon, and he shrugs it all off, trollfacing you as he reveals that he’s a damn good actor and isn’t immune to it at all!  Him being a good actor isn’t all that surprising, really.  I mean, he does have one hell of a poker face.  But congratulations!  You just fed everyone information that you didn’t know was bad, dooming anyone relying on you!

So, yeah…risky business relying on other people.  I don’t know, it could work out.  And if it does work out, that’s great.  But there’s just too much that can go wrong, and Murphy’s Law tends to go into full effect in these situations.

Well, I’m gonna head home for the weekend.  I might not write much then, because I’d like to keep my mind off of him to keep him away from my family.  I’ll try to keep you guys posted Monday, though.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

What’s in a Name

 

So, some of you may look at me a bit weird for referring to the Slender Man as…well, the Slender Man.  And nothing else.  You guys have all your nicknames and whatnot for him.  I’ve heard them.  But I don’t use them.  You’re maybe wondering why.  Let me start with this recap from my first post, for those of you who may have missed it:

“Yeah, I said his name. Oh, no! Come on, guys, he’s not fucking Voldemort. What, is his name so scary now that we can’t bring ourselves to say it? And what’s up with the nicknames? Is it because of the Tulpa Effect? Believe me, if the Tulpa Effect is real, that’s hurting more than it’s helping. Now nobody’s going to be able to watch The Nightmare Before Christmas or eat a stick of jerky without thinking of him. Good job, guys. Real great going. */sarcasm*.”

Really, by avoiding his name, we’re giving him power.  I used the analogy of Voldemort, and it’s one that works pretty well.  People are living in fear of him.  They live in such fear that they don’t even dare speak his name.  Well, guess what?  Harry speaks his name.  Dumbledore speaks his name.  And people look at them like they’re crazy.  You know why?  Because they’ve gone beyond fearing Voldemort.  People who never lived at the same time as him are afraid to say his name.  But they’re not fearing the person.  They’re fearing the name as much as (possibly more than) the wizard himself.  They’ve given his name unnatural power.  We’re doing the same thing with the Slender Man by refusing to say his name.

That’s only half of the reason to use his proper name, though.  There’s one other big one.  Read up on this post here.  Remember A?  Yeah, he was an asshole.  Is he even still around?  I know he was posting here and there for a while.  But even an asshole can bring up a good point.  He theorizes that the Operator Symbol’s purpose is to make you think of the Slender Man, drawing him to you.

Now let me ask you a question.  What happens if you start calling him Jack Skellington?  What happens if you start calling him Slim Jim?  Like I said, you can’t watch A Nightmare Before Christmas anymore, and you can’t eat beef jerky, because you run the risk of thinking of him and drawing him to you.  It’s not healthy.  It was…Ron, I believe?  You called him “stick.”  Well, that might be an accurate nickname.  However, I see a ton of sticks every day.  Trees aren’t exactly uncommon.  If I think “Slender Man” every time I see a stick, I’m boned.  Giving him nicknames doesn’t make him less scary.  It makes him easier to refer to.  And it makes it harder to call him the Slender Man.  When you refer to him in colloquial terms, his name becomes more scary.  And since that name is the “mask” you give him, in a way, when he appears in his Slender Man persona (which he’s always in, except sometimes in your own mind), he’s near pants-shittingly scary.

Well, that’s my explanation on names, and why you shouldn’t use so many nicknames.  Stay safe, everyone.  I’ll probably come up with one more post this week.

And M, you had damn better come back and bitch me out for taking your job.

Gah!  No, Jekyll.  Don’t.  Just let it go.  Just…just give up hope.  It’ll be easier if you do that now, before you find yourself protesting against common sense that he’s still around.

But God, M, do I ever miss you.

Monday, February 21, 2011

Behind These Masks We Wear

Okay, time to stop moping.  If M really is gone, there's nothing I can do.  And hey, I am his self-proclaimed successor, aren't I?  So if he's not giving advice, I guess that's my job now.  So let's resume with a discussion of masks.

I hear quite a bit about masks.  M (*tear*) thought that masks acted as an eye to keep him rooted to this plane.  Maduin thought that they became aids for "taking on a role."  In reality, there's some weight to both of these theories.

M's masks are something that are, at the very least, worth trying out.  I tend to not carry a mask around with me, just because I'm not exactly on the run, and I'm trying to remain fairly inconspicuous when I'm out and about.  While a mask may hide my identity, It gets me funny looks from everyone around me.  While a literal mask may stop the Slender Man for a bit, I'd prefer to avoid him completely by masking myself with other people.  Blending into the crowds.  So no, I don't use M's masks.  However, I do have one that I keep around if need be.  It's one of those Guy Fawkes masks, so it's not all that suspicious.  If I ever need to become a bit more Anonymous, I'll just slip it on.  I've never tested it (never needed to when I had the chance, and never had the chance when I needed to), so I don't know if it works, but it sounds like it holds enough weight.

As for Maduin's masks, I think that it's a great idea.  Again, I'd recommend not trying it out if it gets you weird looks, but it sounds like it works well for steeling your mind.  When you put on a mask, you become an actor.  When you become an actor, you take on a persona.  When you take on a persona, even if it's just another aspect of yourself, you become more focused, because you're thinking about the persona and not just you in general.  A human is a vast concept.  A jumble of thoughts.  A miserable pile of secrets.  A soul endlessly seeking to understand.  Hell, I know next to nothing about myself.  A persona, on the other hand, is much more defined.  It is, essentially, a mask in personality form.  When you're in a particular persona, you're much more focused.  So I'd highly recommend associating a mask with a persona, and then becoming the mask every time you put it on.

That's why it's important to chose an avatar carefully.  Frap, for example, fairly recently changed his avatar from coffee to a knight.  He said it fit his mentality much more.  This is exactly what I'm talking about.  Choose your online persona carefully.  I, for example, chose the pair of Greek masks to represent that I laugh, but only because it keeps me from crying.  Alternatively, I'm blending my comedy into this tragedy.  I chose Jekyll because of his "mad scientist" sort of ways that I'm trying to emulate a bit.  In reality, he and I are both quite meek.  Of course, now everyone's convinced that they both mean that I have a split personality (I don't, and I never have).  But it's too late now: that's the persona I've chosen, and its the one I'm the most comfortable with.

So, in short, masks are most likely a good thing.  I can see how they might help, but I don't see how they'd hurt...unless, of course, you use them to symbolize giving up your identity and becoming "faceless."  Hmm.  Well.  Yeah, I can see that, too. 

Let's rephrase a bit: masks are good if you're using them to become a particular identity or to ward off the Slender Man.  However, if you're simply taking on a mask to give up all identity, that's bad.  Shift identity, don't relinquish it.

There, that should do it.  I'll see you all next time.

Friday, February 18, 2011

Goodnight, Sweet Prince

M has, unfortunately, disappeared.  It has been weeks since any sort of contact from him.  While it may be too early to call it, I think that it's time to give up hope.  M, this is your early eulogy.

I never really liked you.  I didn't trust your rules.  They seemed too arbitrary.  Too subject to change.  You even posted that they had been wrong in the past.  But you admitted that they could be wrong.  You admitted that you were human, and that you could err.  That's something I can't admit freely, because if I do, it means that my entire purpose suddenly amounts to nothing.  You had the gumption to admit that you were wrong, and I respect that.

I may not have liked you or your rules, but I listened to you, to an extent.  I learned from your mistakes.  I respected you.  I still think of you as a mentor to me.  A bit of a paradox, not liking you, but still calling you my mentor, huh?  I guess that the student always thinks he knows better than the teacher.  Maybe I do.  Maybe I don't.  But either way, I became one of your students.

I hope I'm wrong.  I hope you're fine.  But it's getting to the point where we haven't had contact in a long time.  Not even an "I'm alive, don't worry about me."  So this is my eulogy for you.  If you're alive, I'm terribly sorry.  This isn't a eulogy, it's just some post about how much I respect you.  But just in case you've gone to that big, tentacle-free land in the sky, I'm going to crack a bottle for you.  I hope it was quick and relatively painless.

I don't drink, so I grabbed something from the java place on my campus.  Join me friends, in raising a glass, mug, thermos, or whatever you have.  I've got a little monument I've made to you.  Just a small little grave off in the corner of campus somewhere.  I'll share some of this with you...you know, pour some out for you.  It's a hazelnut latte.  I hope that's okay with you.  That'd be kind of embarrassing if I honored you with a drink you hate.  But it's the thought that counts, right?  I'm sure you won't mind.

...

Mmm.  Yep.  That there's some good fucking coffee.

Monday, February 14, 2011

What am I doing?

 

I don’t want to be writing this.  I don’t know why I am.  I just posted a day or two ago.  I’m just…feeling compelled to write.

Fuck.  This is what I was afraid of.  I manage to break away for about a week or two, and then I’m suddenly back again and I can’t pull away.  I’m on an archive binge, catching back up with everything.  So many new blogs.  So much to catch up on.  I’m getting pulled back in.  I just can’t stop.

Dammit, it’s like drugs, only in text form.  And the worst part is, I know I’m getting addicted, and I just have to sit back and helplessly watch.

Fuck.  My finger’s been on the “close window” button about five times now.  Or on the mouse, which is on the button, but…oh, you get the picture.  About five fucking times.  And I just can’t bring myself to fucking close it.  I know I’m going to submit this, even though I don’t want to.

Oh, God, I’m breaking down, aren’t I?  I’m trying to take my own advice, but I can’t even follow it.  Help, someone?  Anyone?  Fuck, just let me know you’re there.  I know that I’ve been simultaneously distrustful and untrustworthy and that no one’s going to want to listen to me, but…I just need to know that I’m not alone.  I know I don’t get a ton of readers, but I do get some.  Would you guys mind saying it for me?

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Everything I Know About Self-Defense…

 

…I learned from EverymanHYBRID.

Hey, guys.  It’s been a while, hasn’t it?  You’ve probably started to get worried about me.  Well, I’ve been staying away from the blogs lately, and I’ve actually felt really good about it.  I mean, it’s the beginning of a new semester for me and all, so I’ve had my mind preoccupied with other stuff.

That changed yesterday when I took a walk with a friend and he pulled a fucking knife on me.

Yeah.  He always keeps a knife on him, just because he likes knives.  And just out of the blue, he attacked me with it.  Two guesses as to who was behind it.  Here’s a hint: the answer is obvious.

Fortunately, I was prepared, and I managed to disarm him.  When he came to, I told him that we had been attacked and that he took a whack on the head that knocked him out.  He figured that’s why he couldn’t really remember the past few minutes.

See, that’s how it is with proxies, for me at least.  They’re people I know.  People I see every day.  They don’t continuously stalk me, just randomly attack me now and then.  I know that there are some who follow the Slender Man out of their own free will, but I’ve never dealt with any of those.  Everyone’s just a marionette to him, and he can just grab the strings whenever he wants to use them as a puppet.  I’m not sure, but I think that’s what happens when he breaks a person.  When they don’t know about him, he doesn’t even really have to break them (since they’ve got absolutely no mental defense), but I don’t think he ever uses them for long.  They’ll notice something’s wrong eventually.  But if someone knows about him, and he breaks them, well…he can use them whenever and however long he wants.

But that’s all just guessing, and I’ve kinda gotten off topic.  Anyway, my point is, most proxies are people I either know or recognize.  So all my talk about the “decorative” katana is mostly true.  I don’t actually use it to assault anyone.  It’s more of a defensive than anything else.  A club on occasion.  I’ve only taken it out of its sheath one time when fighting a proxy.

Anyway, the “lesson” for today, if you will: learn some self-defense.  Like I said, all I really know I learned from EMH (After today’s attack, I’m looking up some other self-defense videos), but that was only a seven-minute lesson.  And please…just use self-defense.  These people are, well…people.  Even if they’re not themselves anymore.  I don’t think it’d be too healthy for your sanity to kill anyone.

I dunno, in a few days I’ll probably get up a post about how to recognize a proxy before they attack you, but…I got attacked by one of my best friends today.  I need time to think.  Or rather, time to try not to think about a particular tall and skinny man.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Untitled 1

Six o 'clock struck on the bells of the church that was so conveniently near to Mr. Utterson's dwelling, and still he was digging at the problem. Hitherto it had touched him on the intellectual side alone; but now his imagination also was engaged, or rather enslaved; and as he lay and tossed in the gross darkness of the night and the curtained room, Mr. Enfield's tale went by before his mind in a scroll of lighted pictures. He would be aware of the great field of lamps of a nocturnal city; then of the figure of a man walking swiftly; then of a child running from the doctor's; and then these met, and that human Juggernaut trod the child down and passed on regardless of her screams. Or else he would see a room in a rich house, where his friend lay asleep, dreaming and smiling at his dreams; and then the door of that room would be opened, the curtains of the bed plucked apart, the sleeper recalled, and lo! there would stand by his side a figure to whom power was given, and even at that dead hour, he must rise and do its bidding. The figure in these two phases haunted the lawyer all night; and if at any time he dozed over, it was but to see it glide more stealthily through sleeping houses, or move the more swiftly and still the more swiftly, even to dizziness, through wider labyrinths of lamplighted city, and at every street-corner crush a child and leave her screaming. And still the figure had no face by which he might know it; even in his dreams, it had no face, or one that baffled him and melted before his eyes; and thus it was that there sprang up and grew apace in the lawyer's mind a singularly strong, almost an inordinate, curiosity to behold the features of the real Mr. Hyde. If he could but once set eyes on him, he thought the mystery would lighten and perhaps roll altogether away, as was the habit of mysterious things when well examined. He might see a reason for his friend's strange preference or bondage (call it which you please) and even for the startling clause of the will. At least it would be a face worth seeing: the face of a man who was without bowels of mercy: a face which had but to show itself to raise up, in the mind of the unimpressionable Enfield, a spirit of enduring hatred.

From that time forward, Mr. Utterson began to haunt the door in the by-street of shops. In the morning before office hours, at noon when business was plenty, and time scarce, at night under the face of the fogged city moon, by all lights and at all hours of solitude or concourse, the lawyer was to be found on his chosen post.

"If he be Mr. Hyde," he had thought, "I shall be Mr. Seek."

And at last his patience was rewarded. It was a fine dry night; frost in the air; the streets as clean as a ballroom floor; the lamps, unshaken, by any wind, drawing a regular pattern of light and shadow. By ten o'clock, when the shops were closed, the by-street was very solitary and, in spite of the low growl of London from all round, very silent. Small sounds carried far; domestic sounds out of the houses were clearly audible on either side of the roadway; and the rumour of the approach of any passenger preceded him by a long time. Mr. Utterson had been some minutes at his post, when he was aware of an odd, light footstep drawing near. In the course of his nightly patrols, he had long grown accustomed to the quaint effect with which the footfalls of a single person, while he is still a great way off, suddenly spring out distinct from the vast hum and clatter of the city. Yet his attention had never before been so sharply and decisively arrested; and it was with a strong, superstitious prevision of success that he withdrew into the entry of the court.

The steps drew swiftly nearer, and swelled out suddenly louder as they turned the end of the street. The lawyer, looking forth from the entry, could soon see what manner of man he had to deal with. He was small and very plainly dressed, and the look of him, even at that distance, went somehow strongly against the watcher's inclination. But he made straight for the door, crossing the roadway to save time; and as he came, he drew a key from his pocket like one approaching home.

Mr. Utterson stepped out and touched him on the shoulder as he passed." Mr. Hyde, I think?"

Mr. Hyde shrank back with a hissing intake of the breath. But his fear was only momentary; and though he did not look the lawyer in the face, he answered coolly enough: "That is my name. What do you want?"

"I see you are going in," returned the lawyer. "I am an old friend of Dr. Jekyll's— Mr. Utterson of Gaunt Street— you must have heard my name; and meeting you so conveniently, I thought you might admit me."

"You will not find Dr. Jekyll; he is from home," replied Mr. Hyde, blowing in the key. And then suddenly, but still without looking up, "How did you know me?" he asked.

"On your side," said Mr. Utterson, "will you do me a favour?"

"With pleasure," replied the other. "What shall it be?"

"Will you let me see your face?" asked the lawyer.

Mr. Hyde appeared to hesitate, and then, as if upon some sudden reflection, fronted about with an air of defiance; and the pair stared at each other pretty fixedly for a few seconds. "Now I shall know you again," said Mr. Utterson. "It may be useful."

Thursday, February 3, 2011

When You’re Alone: Run, Run, Run, as Fast as You Can….

 

The break’s ending, and I’m not alone on campus anymore.  Such a great feeling.  I managed to make it though those few days without any (major) incidents.  Lucky, I guess, considering how I put up an effing blog post during that time.

But anyway, that post was only half of it.  You can’t stay distracted all the time when you’re alone.  The Slender Man is bound to show up sooner or later.  And when you’re staring him in the face (oh, you know what I mean), not thinking about him isn’t really a viable option.

Fighting doesn’t work.  At least, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t.  It didn’t work for Zeke, it didn’t work for Evan or the other HYBRIDS; I’m pretty damn sure it won’t work for me, and I’m not about to risk it.  You wanna be a complete idiot?  Good for you.  Your dedication is remembered and honored, as is your inevitable sacrifice.

I can’t exactly run to another state or country.  Even if I did, I’m pretty sure he’d have no problem finding me.  That doesn’t mean you can’t escape him temporarily, though.  That’s what this update is about.

First of all, escaping him is half luck.  If he’s really after you, I don’t doubt that he could kill you easily.  When you run, you’re taking the chance that you’re just not worth it quite yet.  You can escape some pretty hopeless situations, but that always relies on him just saying “eh, I’ll come back to you later.”

But first of all, if he shows up, I’d say to use M’s third rule: keep your eyes open.  As hesitant as I am about his advice, this one has worked really well for me.  I think that M’s got it pretty much down: he can’t teleport/shift planes/do whatever it is he does to get around when we’re mentally anchoring him in our plane of existence.  When he’s anchored, he’s forced to move like a human, something that’s not easy to do.  Have you seen those limbs of his?  Even when he’s not in tentacle rape mode, his arms and legs just…aren’t right.  They’re too long, and they don’t move right.  He’s limited to a walk, which means that you’re faster than him, but only when you’re looking at him.  Incidentally, using the Operator Symbol as a makeshift eye is stupid.  Don’t trust the Operator Symbol.  Using a mask might work, but I’m hesitant to try.  Keeping him just within eyesight (and keeping your eyes on him) is the best way of doing things.

Of course, you can’t keep him in your sight forever.  You’ll lose sight of him eventually.  When that happens, speed becomes a priority.  Get in the car.  Get anywhere where there’s people around. If you live in a city, get to the mall.  If you live in a small town, go to the grocery store (they’ve probably got at least one) or anywhere else there might be people.  If you live out in the countryside or something, you’re a little more fucked, but try to get to the nearest town or city.  Being around people is a priority.

As a side note, airplanes are the best way to avoid him (always quite a few people, and he’s not about to materialize in mid-air to cause a mysterious crash), but flying is expensive and usually not a good last-minute choice, so they’re extremely impractical.

In addition, you have to be sure to be mentally strong whenever you’re in his presence.  If you’re not mentally prepared for an encounter, it’s extremely easy to break.  Once you break, you’re his, and he’ll use you for whatever he wants.  I don’t think that you have to break for him to kill you, but you do for him to actually control you. 

I’ve found a really good way to combat this: memorize something.  A poem.  The Gettysburg Address.  I personally prefer Bible verses.  Just something with structure that you can think of when you’re in the Slender Man’s presence.  It’s a small thing, and it won’t take your mind off of him (not fully, at least) or make him any less frightening, but it shifts your thoughts from “OHGODOHGODI’MGOINGTODIE” to “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth” or “Once upon a midnight dreary, as I pondered, weak and weary.”  It’s a mental stability thing that keeps you from panicking.  Kind of like the tokens in Inception, only not really, now that I think about it.  Similar concept, though.  Something you can use to center yourself.

There are other ways to do things, of course.  This is just my usual course of action.  I’ll post other info on this subject as it comes up.