I’m gonna try to get Mark to add my account to his blogspot and maybe we’ll post together? I don’t know. Brian’s on it after all.
It’s been a time and a half since I posted on this thing and that’s for good reason. I think I was a little crazy when I started this thing. Not much of it makes much sense. I don’t actually know if I can do anything important anymore but I can tell my story. Mark’s convinced me I should….
I don’t want to talk about what I did and said to Mark before using this blog and a youtube channel. I don’t know what half means and I don’t want to understand the other half.
Mark’s going through hell. His head’s playing with him. But I’m not going to pieces mentally anymore. Physically is another story. The car crash Mark and I got into left me a bruise on my cheek but that was all. It wasn’t that that’s making me sick or hurt. The thing Mark’s lately called ‘The Slenderman.’ I know it’s been here all along… or at least since I met him.
What I don’t know is why or why it’s been outside my house every night for a week on the edge of my back yard. Mark thinks he’s looking to take me back, says not to leave the house between sundown and sunrise. When I asked him if that would actually help he wouldn’t answer.
So I’m doing the same as Mark, I’m going to school and I’m going to come back as the sun goes down, sleep whenever I can and try to keep living. I’m not going to pick up a camera and record or snap a picture of that thing. I want it to go away and stay away.
Last night it was there, outside my bedroom window around midnight. By two it was gone. That’s all there is to say tonight.
Can’t think what else to do so I’ll share a poem I saw linked somewhere and kinda fell in love with.
We’re all born to broken people on their most honest day of living
and since that first breath… We’ll need grace that we’ve never given
I’ve been haunted by standard red devils and white ghosts
and it’s not only when these eyes are closed
these lies are ropes that I tie down in my stomach,
but they hold this ship together tossed like leaves in this weather
and my dreams are sails that I point towards my true north,
stretched thin over my rib bones, and pray that it gets better
but it won’t, at least I don’t believe it will…
-Listener - Wooden Heart
For anyone who wanted to reblog this ask from before, here it is!
I refuse to post that. I deleted the video. Mark we need to talk, man! I think there’s sommmmmmmmmmmmthisoneisminenow.healwaysputsupthebestfighttherestaresoweakmindedddd
I was punished… I’m being punished. It hurts so bad but I’m confused. Oh God, He’s unhappy with me. He’s taken His song from my heart and His blessing from me. But this makes no sense. No sense at all. I know what He wants… it appeared over night, He worked through me as he often does Mark. While I slept I worked but what I.. what He made… it doesn’t make sense! He forbade me from looking into the files He drew from but I’m going to have to try tonight.
But the pain in my right hand is making typing with it impossible. Everything is going to take me so much time.
Back home again in Indiana, oh it seems that I can see
That gleaming candlelight, still shining bright
Through the sycamores for me
Huh, my luggage is a little big lighter. I seem to have misplaced something. Too bad, Mark. I’m sure you were missing that camera.
You seem to have gone a little quiet. Are you upset, Mark?