I don't know

I'm lost. I don't know where to go, don't know what to do, and seem to keep walking head first into the same wall as I pace the tiny hall between the stairs and my front door. It was a few days ago that my need to go outside first manifested, all because of one, sad, realization.

Now I was surfing the Internet, as I often do in my lack luster days, seeing as I haven't been to work in a very long while, and proxies prowl outside my door. So as I made my way to one of my favorite sites, an add came up for a black evening gown, and before you say anything, I know I am a male and that evening gowns shouldn't catch my interest, but this one was different. The plunging neck line that showed ample amounts of cleavage and the way that it was supposed to contour the lines and curves of the body...well it really drew me in, and that's when I realized it.

I have never been on a date.

That's right. Not once in my life have I EVER been on a date.

This had to be remedied! There had to be someone who would go on a date with lil' ol' unremarkable me, wasn't there? There was hope that someone would be desperate enough to do what no other woman (or perhaps even man) had even dared to try. So I signed myself up for a dating website...like E-Harmony or something to that effect, but before I even started looking for matches it was over. Those websites lie people. They say that they can find a match for anyone, but after inputting all my information, all that came up was that there was no one out there in the whole, wide and vast Internet for me. Of course, I couldn't help but get all depressed for a few moments over this news, but then the speaking bottle of Tylenol Ones on my desk reminded me that where there was a will there was a way, and I reminded it that I had no will, and then it yelled at me to get my fat arse moving and actually do something.

And I found nothing wrong with this.

I took the advice the bottle had given me, and I orderd the dress, and a mannequin to wear said dress, and some roses, and some candles, and a few romantic CD's, and lots and lots of booze. I dressed my mannequin up in all the finery I bought her, leaned her akwardly against the chair at the table set for two, and started to woo my, unwilling, inanimate, victim. With enough rum and fine whiskey to kill an already dead cat, I think the night was pretty successful.

Let me know what you think!

Lack of Sleep

Perhaps it's lack of sleep that leads me in writing this. All my fears and insecurities, well I suppose you've pretty well got a handle on that. It's not that hard to figure out. I feel like I'm drowning, slowly letting the water rush into my open mouth and down my throat to plug my lungs. My pulse pounds in my head as my blood rushes to my brain, never stopping. It's like a drum, thump thump, thump thump, over and over until it would drive me mad. It will never leave me alone, I know that now, and perhaps would be I a fool for believing that I can escape the fate of all those that came before me. I have a new path though, a new way of maybe surviving all this, though I no longer hold any regard for the life that I hold within my beating heart and rushing blood.

I am tired of all that goes on outside my door. The accidents, the mishaps. There are too many coincidences in this part of town, and I want nothing to do with it. As soon as I get the paperwork to close, I'm moving houses and hopefully I will have no worries of his goons on my doorstep, though that would be wishful thinking. Even though I am moving, don't think of this as running or trying to hide. No. I refuse to give up my life just because some abomination wants to kill me. Go ahead if that's what you really want Mr. Slender. Kill me and don't leave a body. Make me disappear into the night because it's not like there is anyone who really cares if I'm gone. No one relies on me for anything other than to be the existence that is just as easily forgotten as unpleasant paperwork.

So as I sit here at my desk, bottle of rum in one had and a bottle of coke in the other, I wonder if this is what life is really about. I wonder if this is what God's plan for me really is. Will I be one of the ones who fall quickly from grace, destined to live in the shadowy nether regions of the spiritual life, or will I be tied to this plain of existence for years to come. Really it's all in God's hands now. I can't see myself surviving this onslaught of Myth and Superstition, yet, perhaps today I will be one of the lucky ones.

Late and Travel

I'm sorry this post comes so late, but I've been busy. Not that kind of busy that I was working all night and just didn't have time to get online busy, yet I applaud myself for actually getting off my butt to do this.

I took a trip to Holland. You heard me right. The land of Illegal drugs and Red Light Districts that would knock your socks off, but that's not what I went for. I arrived in front of the Cirque Du Soliel European Headquarters with little more than a backpack full of clothing, and a key that had been tucked into my father's diary. I had to confirm all that he said in the book, because I sure as hell wasn't going to just blindly believe something like that. It was certainly a hassle to try and get these guys to let me in. The old gym hadn't been used in years and there was some sort of shady reason that the Cirque people didn't want to tell me. Also the Russell family appeared not to exist, but there was a look on their faces as if they had seen a ghost while they looked at me.

It took about three days, but they finally let me take a look around. As I approached the old building, a feeling of apprehension clenched in my stomach. What if everything that my Father had written was true? What if all this stuff about Proxies and Slenderman was actually real? I couldn't think of that. I couldn't possible believe that any of this could possibly have roots in reality. I slotted the key in the old lock and turned, pushing open the door. The smell that came over me made me gag. It was like rotting flesh and unwashed blood that flew into my nostrils like a particularly annoying fly. There was the hum of insect life as I stepped in closing the door behind me and flicking on the lights in the dark room.

There it was, the sea of blood. Not cleaned in the years since my father had done it, and as I stepped in a puddle, I realized that the blood wasn't dry. My head was spinning. This wasn't possible. There was no way that the scene would stay so intact. The laughing came from high above. Insane. High Pitched. Like a child who was almost ready to cry their heart out, but was holding it all in. I couldn't take it.

I turned and ran.

And so here I am. Back home safe and sound, the key tucked far under my pillow along with that damn work of fiction. I refuse to believe what I saw. It's not real. It's not there. There is no such thing as Slenderman. There are no such things as proxies. This is all lies meant to scare me into running and hiding or fighting some figment of my imagination. I will not give in. I will not be scared of the bumps in the night, because they are nothing more than regular things in my normal life.

Why Did I Do It?

Why? Why on earth did I invite unspeakable horror into my home? Why did no one tell me that it was a FUCKING BAD IDEA?!

What good is this community huh? I started reading about all these irrational people who are on the run and I LITTERALLY INVITE Tall, Dark, and Slender to come haunt me. Even my family history can't save me. I can't sleep, can't even walk down the street without checking over my shoulder for the faceless man. The pale, featureless face haunts me everywhere I go....and the shower curtain sitting across my tub now seems like a really bad idea.

To recap, A few nights ago I called upon the powers that be to bring Slender Man to me so I could laugh in his suit wearing presence. That turned out to be a retarded decision, and I wouldn't blame you for questioning my intelligence. I wasn't expecting for a figment of overactive imagination to show up outside my window. Yesterday was another peaceful night, and I was curled around my bottle of rum, ready to pass out from my drunken stupor, to notice something flickering in the light of the bustling city just outside my window. It goes to say I was startled by what was staring at me....or rather the lack of what was staring at me. Tentacles thrashing in the rain, an ethereal, guttural, screeching, distortion coming from his very presence.....I should have worn my brown pants to bed.

Ever since then I have seen his minion crouching outside my windows, waiting outside my door for me to make a mistake and set one foot past the threshold. What they don't know is that I am ready for the nuclear war in this bunker of a house, and eating canned food won't bother me for as long as I have to wait for all of this to blow over. Maybe I shouldn't have been playing with fire in the first place, but what is the fun if you're not going to get burned, or burn down the house you are playing in and half the neighbourhood along with it? Somehow I think all of this will turn out wonderfully, and I will live a nice long and eventful life, right guys?

I'll live right?

Sleepless Night #1

I'd hate to say I am afraid, because I don't believe I am, even if I am jumping at every creak and groan. I attribute that to the fact that the house next door is already a disaster waiting to happen and could well...fall at any moment.

Since the last time I posted nothing has become clearer to me. I spent my whole day on the internet looking for others like me...but it just seems like these people are, to be frank, awesome. I am far from the desired subject to fight this "Slender Bug", but it seems like everyone just pussy foots around the issue. I am not quite sure if it is lack of sleep that leads me to write this or perhaps it is my perverse death wish that makes these words flow from my finger tips. So here, with the hesitation of a thirteen year old that wants to look cool in front of his friends, but knows mommy and daddy will hate this decision, I come out with the very thoughts I believe that everyone wants to hide.

COME AND GET ME SLENDER MAN! I AM WAITING FOR YOU TO MAKE MY LIFE A LIVING HELL AND LA DE DA. YOU CAN'T MAKE ME LEAVE MY LESS THAN COMFORTABLE HOUSE, THAT REALLY DOESNT MEAN MUCH TO ME, AND ABANDON MY LIFE, THAT NO ONE REALLY CARES ABOUT EITHER!

There. I said it. Now I just have to wait for the horrible monstrosity to descend upon me. I can't see why everyone is so scared. Slender Man is just a figment of everyone's imaginations and can't hurt me, or anyone else. All these people on the run are just paranoid of bumps in the night or delusional and need to be in a mental hospital, on stronger medication than a normal psychiatrist can give. The diary that was left to me from my "dad", which I still can't prove is either fake nor real, is for some reason keeping me up at night, and I am finding it in my constant thoughts. There is more to this hoax than there seems to be, and I WILL find the answers behind it.