Worse Than Worthless Gray

I'm back. Me. Gray, I mean. If you don't believe me...well I guess then you just don't. There's no way I can convince you, and it's honestly probably not worth the effort it would take. Especially considering how hard it is to type right now for me.


None of you were really all that worried about me, or about The Kor I guess since he was typing when his post cut off, but I'm glad that you didn't. I'm not worth a single passing thought. I'm a terrible person, and everything bad that's going to happen to me is all my fault. It's all because I'm so stupid and useless and completely unable to protect anyone.


One person. That was all I wanted. To save one person. I had no lofty ideas of being any kind of hero, no ambition to help anyone. I just wanted to be a little better than the pile of shit that I always am and I can't even do that! Even when I hide in a corner I still manage to fuck it up somehow. Why can't I have even a little happiness in my life? Am I being punished by God? Can't I just die knowing that I didn't doom anyone else.


My mom knows about it all. All of it. She doesn't believe it but it's only a matter of time. I figure I should tell the whole story, but it's late and I'm tired and my arm hurts and I just want to sleep. Besides, I bet that no one will want to read this blog anymore anyway. I'm just a sinking ship that will bring anyone I love down with me. That's all any of us are. The starting point from which the infection spreads. Every one of His victims represents four more in the future. What will we do when it is too late to stop the sickness?



I don't know what I'm rambling about. It's hard to type with one arm. I'll post more of the story tomorrow. Good night.

Diskoraging much?

Everyone here has been quite rude to me, I think you should apologize. When my dear Gray was posting the comments were all, 'believe in yourself!' and 'I know it's hard, but we're all here for youuu~<3'.


And then I come on and you all barely know me and already you lash out. I have the self-confidence and personal drive to want to try and save myself and my loved ones from a monster, and you're all nothing but discouraging! I thought that this was supposed to be a support network. I figured you'd all be happy that someone else is attempting to learn how to end this thing that plagues all our lives. Just cause you don't think I can do it is no reason to be rude.


Honestly, what the fuck did I do wrong? Have the gall to only be here by taking over Gray's head? WE ARE EVEN PARTS OF THIS BODY. I was trapped inside for three years, don't I deserve to stretch my legs? For all you know, I might be the original personality that was ousted from our collective mind. But no. Not the fucking...exclusive slenderblog community. No room for The Kor, even though all he wants to do is help.


Do you make fun of everyone when they first find out about him? Do you laugh at them and call them monsters when they just say hi and post for the first time? No wonder so many of you are pathetic messes. The people they turn to, thinking they'll find understanding are complete DICKWADS.

You were nice enough to Gray, why am I so

Trapped in a Korner

Fuck.  Fuck fuck fuck.  I was at school, you know, just keeping up my fucking appearances for our stupid mom.  Gray seems attached to her for some reason.  She brings us food, I will tolerate her for now.

That is not the point of this.  At the bus stop.  I saw him.  The fucking monster Slenderthing or whatever he's called.  Fuck fuck fuck.    

I don't know what Gray's talking about, that he's smiling.  I felt that thing's gaze on me before I turned around.  He was GLARING.  I have never felt such concentrated hatred and I BURNED THREE PEOPLE ALIVE.  But that thing is evil.

I don't want my Gray anywhere near that creature.  It has no capacity for anything other than destruction.  I am sure.  I have been doing extensive research, and so far it seems that no one has come up with any way to destroy this menace, or even to successfully evade it for very long.  But I won't give up hope.  If I have anything left, it is hope.  I will fight this monster to protect Gray.  I will succeed where no one else has.

People have been getting close.  Or at least coming up with ideas.  Gray has been more than helpful sharing anything he has learned in his time without me.  Except one thing.

Have any of you ever heard of Root Theory?  I've never had this happen before, but Gray has locked away a portion of his mind from me, and I can't access it.  Even when he's sleeping.  I don't know what would cause my love to mistrust me so, I hope no one is blackmailing him.  If they are I will deal with them SEVERELY.  I've only heard of this Root Theory thing because he'd doodled about it all over his notebooks.  I tried FUCKING GOOGLING IT (Sanna), and nothing came up.  When I try and reach into our mind to find out about it, I hit a wall.

So I'm reaching out instead to this benevolent blogging community.  If it can help me save my dearest Gray, then I would appreciate any help that you can give me.

And the sooner I get rid of that monster, the sooner I can close my eyes and not see him glaring at me.  It won't leave my mind.

Have a nice day!

The Kor of the Matter

What?  If Gray can name all his posts in such a self centered manner then so can I.  But mine will be more fun! :)

So anyway, I've been going back through the little thing's blog, and his emails and memories and journals and I have just one thing to say:

WHO IS THIS FUCKING SLENDERMAN GOING AFTER MY PRECIOUS GRAY?!?!?!

He will DIE before he touches a hair on our head.  I knew that mental hospital was bad for him.  They called him crazy, he wasn't crazy.  He was perfect, and now he's got some creepy....thing coming after him for no reason.  Well, maybe it's because he's so cute, but he'd have to get in line for that because I CALLED DIBS.  GRAY IS MINE, BACK OFF SLENDERFUCK.

Would one of you kindly explain to me how I can expunge that waste of space from My Love's head so that he can go back to thinking about important things?  Namely: ME.  He's been spending all his time cowering in fear of something other than me, and I can't take that.  Only I'm allowed to make him scared.

And I'm the only one who gets to see his cute shaking <3

Well, no worries.  If he dares to show his face-less face thing to me I'll BURN IT OFF.

Have a nice day!  XD

Fractured Gray

I feel great. I feel strong. I'm not usually one to have strength. Today I saw Him outside my window, and my initial instinct to panic wasn't there. Instead I felt this warm surge of....something, and then He just vanished. And my slender sickness went with him. I haven't brought it up in a while, but I've been not doing too well dealing with it. But when he vanished it just up and evaporated like some physical impediment leaving my body.

In light of this rare moment of clear-mindedness, I figure it's the best chance I'm going to get to level with you all.

I was putting off telling you about this because....
a) it's terrifying to put your most closely held secrets online where anyone could read them and
b) because some part of me thought that if I didn't talk about it then maybe it would go away.


But it's gotten to the point where my story just becomes confusing without it, and after the visit from Maritza and Jeresy, I feel a bit more secure in my own mind. Living in fear of him coming back isn't going to keep him from returning.


I've referenced several times already having been in a Hospital. That's because I spent a large portion of my life in a mental institution after the formation of a dangerously violent split personality. I had a really hard time as a kid, maybe not worse than now but I was younger. And it was so easy to not have to think about solving my problems, I could just rely on him to take care of them for me.


It's easy to give in to. 

Some part of me does wish he was back so that I wouldn't have to deal with all this Slender stuff on my own. He could deal with it for me. He is very sweet to me, sometimes it makes it hard to remember to hate him. But he hurts people, and I don't want to hurt people. No matter how painless or simple that route would be. 

Wait, guys...that strength in my stomach, something's wrong with it.  It's so hot, and it's getting hotter like i'm onfireeee ohgoodddddddddhicant beathhhhhhhhhhhhhBREATHING. 

I remember that. And fingers, our fingers are doing something, what do we have here? We're typing something. What is this supposed to be? Let's go brain diving!


We have a BLOG? Well that's something I didn't expect to come home to. Well, at least that means I get an audience.


*achem*

Ladies and Gentlemen, our main actor has retaken the staaaaage! Let's have a big round of applause for our hero, THE KOOOOOOOOR!!!!! XDDDD

That's capital “T” The, capital “K” Kor. Don't forget it. Tattoo it on the inside of your eyelids. The Kor. :)

It's been so stuffy trapped in that poor kid's gloomy-ass head for all this time. And things have probably gone to shit without me. Little Gray never could take care of himself, he's lucky I'm here for him.  Those evil doctors thought they were "helping" by cutting me out of his head.  But it's all okay, because I have returned so he never has to be alone anymore.  He's not strong enough to live without me.  We'll make it through this together. Together like we were always meant to be.


He's back in good hands.

I'll have to spend some time fishing through his memories and finding out all of what I missed in my short absence!  I'm sure he didn't get up to anything terribly exciting without me around.  I always have all the fun ideas between us. :)

This is The Kor, saying have a great day! We're going to have SO much fun together! Now, where did I leave my matches?

Candy-Coated-Blue Gray

That's the exact color of paint that I now have spotted all over my skin and clothes.  But I have my window opened and I think the air and sunlight is doing me wonders.

I kinda lied to my mom this morning, saying that I was too sick to go to school.  I don't pull this often, so she let me get away with it.  I think she's just been generally worried about me lately.  I couldn't keep my ever growing despair completely from her notice.  But she didn't press me beyond what I'm comfortable with, after all, she's used to dealing with me being like this.  I've never been the happiest kid.

I'm getting off topic.  I lied to her about being sick so that when she went to work today I could have some time alone in my room with the fresh new can of paint I have acquired!  It was just calling out to be painted with.  Honestly, I've always been kind of an art geek.  I love drawing and painting, and I always have, and that's why there were so many materials around my room to mark up my walls with.  But I just couldn't bear to get rid of them.  It's been a while since I painted consciously.

My walls are about halfway covered, I tell you, it's a very relaxing feeling seeing all those words disappear behind fresh blue paint.  As if they never even existed.  Maybe they never will again.  Maybe it's just a state of mind thing.  And my state of mind has never been clearer.

I feel like myself.

Oh crap, I got paint on my laptop.  That's what I get for breaking to type up a post without washing my hands.  The smell of paint and trees is everywhere.  It's beautiful.  Better get back to work.  Catch you guys later!

Isolated Gray

So much of this experience is spent alone.  It's probably the reason so many of us make blogs.  To reach out to others, feel like we're part of a community.  Feel like we're not going crazy alone inside our own heads.  No offense to any of you, but I still wasn't a hundred percent sure that this wasn't all some crazy invention of my mind.  The blogs and everything, that I'd wake up still surrounded by white padding and doctors who spoke in soft voices.  I mean, there was nothing to say it wasn't true, but after yesterday?  I think I'm ready to believe.

You may remember that I have been expecting some paint.  From Rain or Snow Services.  Well, last night they came.  Jeresy and Maritza showed up at my house.  At my house!  I know that I sent in the request, but a part of me still doubted that it would ever happen.  But it did!  I have the paint in my room right now.  They were worried about being able to pose as my friends from high school cause apparently they're much older than me, but I think that it all was fine.  It all went great.  Surprisingly great, actually.

They showed up in the late afternoon and were very nice to my mom.  I appreciate that guys, if you're reading this.  You'll always be welcome in our home if you're in the area or need a place to crash.  Though my house isn't really on the way to anything.  Still.  You're both welcome.

Miss Maritza was very good at acting, she seemed to have come prepared with an entire fake backstory.  It was very impressive, I honestly wasn't expecting them to care that much.  Or try that hard.  Mr. Jeresy was also very kind, if a bit less talkative.  I could tell they were trying their best to complete their job to the best of their ability.  They were even kind about the state of my room.

My room, as I'm sure anyone reading this has begun to realize, looks like a can of paint exploded all over it.  I don't know if I got across the extent of it, but it certainly doesn't look like anything a sane person would create.  Even the ceiling is nearly black from the layers upon layers of words.  Maritza and Jeresy were the first to see this room besides me.

Maritza told me that she's primarily a psychology focused doctor, and I saw her start to go clinical as soon as she saw my room.  Or maybe that's just how she usually is when she's not putting on an act for my mom.  Malcolm had told me that maybe I should discuss it with her, what I'm going through and she could help me out, but in the end I couldn't do it.  These people were already doing so much for me and there was so little I could give in return, I couldn't ask for more.  They doubtlessly have more important things to worry about than the mental well-being of a soon to be dead kid.  Even still, Miss Maritza gave me her email address without me asking for it.

Humans can be so kind, I couldn't help myself from crying.  I didn't ask, but I guess I assumed that the two of them are hunted, just as I am.  If you are, Maritza, Jeresy, you don't deserve this life.  

My mom made us all dinner, it was the only payment I could offer.  They, especially Jeresy, seemed happy to have it.  It was.....it was wonderful.  My head has never felt clearer.  I got to pretend I had friends.  It certainly made my mom happier, thinking I was beginning to fit in.  I had a really great time.  If I wasn't lying about everything I said in relation to my "friends" it would have been just like I had a normal life.  But I've given up on normalcy.  Nothing will ever be normal again.

But I can let myself have this fleeting moment of it, like a daydream or a passing vision.

They headed out shortly after.  I suppose that meant my daydream was broken.  Back to everyday life now.  I came out of this experience with the paint I needed to slap a temporary bandage over the ugly secrets scrawled out on my walls.  And with a bit of restored faith in humanity.  

Rain or Snow Services is a wonderful company.  I pray that they can bring their help and compassion to many people in need.  God knows they have saved me.  In more ways than just giving me paint.  I hadn't realized how long it's been since I've been able to connect with another person.  Malcolm was there for me when I fell into this world, and now his people have saved me again.  They have brought me hope.  I cannot thank them enough.  

May they be blessed wherever they travel.

And so for the first time in a long time, I believe that tonight I could have good dreams.  Goodnight wherever you are, Miss Maritza, Mr. Jeresy.  Malcolm.  I hope you have good dreams too.             

Monochromatic Gray

I like fall. Even with the fear of trees that I know this experience should have drilled into me, I still am heartbroken by the beauty of fall. So much of this world is monochromatic. Endless green in summer, endless white in winter. But it is the transitions that are the most bursting with color and the most fleeting.

It is these momentary colors that we notice. The leaves setting the branches ablaze, before falling to the ground and becoming little more than trampled garbage. The sunset bleeding out across the sky, desperately trying to hold its head above the water. The hummingbird, with such a little, quick-beating heart that it lives in constant peril of death.

I bet that if you held a hummingbird in your hand you could feel its whole body shake with the beating of its heart. It is alive, violently alive.

I would like to hold a hummingbird in my hand before I die. I think that would teach me something about the world, help me understand a universal secret. The dying are the most desperate. Screaming out to be noticed, scrambling to accomplish as much as possible. I think it is the living who should be so desperate. They have the chance to change themselves based on what they learn, while the dying just die. That is why the world can never move forward. People learn the most important secrets only as soon as it is too late to pass them on.

I am here and soon will be gone. But I don't have brilliant colors. Maybe I should paint my skin the greens and blues and burning red of the hummingbird. And then I'll be reminded of the beating of my heart every second that I live. And when I fall, I'll fall out of the sky.

Speaker for the Dead

Not my usual kind of title, I know, but it's not my usual kind of post.  It's not about me, very little is about me.  The world is so much bigger than stupid me and my stupid problems.  It contains a lot of other sad, struggling people, and a lot who are past the point of struggle.  I want to talk about them.

No, they weren't my friends.  I never knew them, and I never will.  They died before I even began to learn of their lives.  But they left something behind for me to find.  These blogs are lives caught up in static words, like windows or like chunks of amber with perfect fossils hidden inside.  People, human beings have walked through this world and tried to reach out to others with their words, their thoughts spelled out in letters.  Even when they are gone, these blogs remain as proof and as remembrance, like a eulogy they wrote themselves.  Like markers on gravestones.

I don't want to list names, because there are so many I will leave out, but I want to honor everyone who's passed away.  I have been able to learn so much from them, even though they couldn't know that their words would aid some stupid kid crouched in a corner years later.  I have considered them friends even as I read and watch the static archive grow ever closer to the end of posts, and know what is coming.  Still it is hard not to believe that they are still alive when they seem so bright and lively, the words unchanged since their deaths. 

Every blog is doomed to end the same way, even if it is abandoned that is a kind of death for everyone who only knows that person's life through their words.  My blog will end that way too, but sooner I feel and with much less sorrow for I am not as important as these others.  These were the strongest, they fought hard and innovated, researched and supported each other, and even still they passed on.  There is little hope for those of us weaker than them.

Death is the end of every life, and life is just the beginning of a new death.

But I'm glad to have been able to know these wonderful people, even if only in the barest way possible.  I would have liked to talk with them, to tell them how much they inspire me, to hear their troubles and maybe find a way to help, but it is too late for that.  When they died, I did not know to cry for them.  But I will cry for them now.

For those who have died and for those who have yet to die, I will cry.

None of us deserved this fate.

Contagious Gray

I had to walk home from school today.  Some bullies stole my math notebook that I need for homework and decided to play keep away with it.  That kind of thing doesn't usually happen to me, mostly just being ignored and stared at as I pass by in the hallways.  Whispers and pointed looks, you know?  I'm used to that kind of thing.  Most people aren't brash enough to approach me directly like this.

I was honestly more worried that they would open the notebook and see what I had drawn inside and become infected.  Even idiots like that don't deserve the disease I could give them.  It's bad enough me still going to school.  Like leading the piper to the children.

So I jumped around a bit until they got bored of my tears and dumped my notebook in the trashcan.  By then it was far too late to catch the bus.  My English teacher offered to drive me home.  I like to think the sentiment would be there for any student with tear streaks down his face clutching a dirty notebook, but I know that the teachers have been instructed to handle me like I'm fragile.  I can tell in the way they look at me, and speak in especially soft tones.  As if I would break with words.  They're not worried for me, they're worried about me.

I don't blame them though.  I turned the ride down.  I lied that I lived close enough to walk.  I put everyone here in enough danger by existing, the last thing I want to do is get closer to anyone.

I only just got home now.  I'm tired and my head hurts.  And the whole way home I saw Him with His terrifying somehow-smiling lack of a face.  I live in the middle of a forest, it's only a matter of time.

The best I can do for the world is to hide myself away from it.  They deal with the most contagious diseases with quarantine, right?  I wonder how much longer I'll be able to keep going to school.  Even now it's only for the semblance of normalcy.  It doesn't mean anything anymore, I have no future to prepare for.

It doesn't matter what you know when you're buried, everyone's the same kind of dead.  It's only a matter of time.    

Ash Gray

I doubt anyone noticed, or cared, but I haven't been on here in a few days. Probably Malcolm was the only one who realized since we email far more often than I post here. I have been rather laid up for all of yesterday and some of today. I think I'm better now, though.


It started with another one of those dreams.


I was standing in darkness, alone and empty. It was nice though, peaceful. Like how I imagine dying will feel once this is all finally over. But I couldn't see even darker shapes moving through the darkness, and then something weirdly slimy was stroking down my arms. From the experience of other dreams like this I suppose it was those tentacles again. And there were voices all around, the screechy laughing from last time, but also soothing tones and whispered ones. It was hard to tell what they were saying, but I knew that they were good things even though the voices that said them scared me.


Then all of a sudden I burst into flame. A huge, raging bonfire all around me and its light beat back the shadows. They recoiled, their sweet words becoming hisses and screams. I could see the darkness better now than when I had been encased by it, and I looked out at it with interest. It seemed so small now, pushed back by my fiery shield.


And now the fire started whispering, and it only had one voice. About how it would protect me and love me. I almost believed it until something drove me to look down at myself. Even though I felt no heat from the fire around me, my body was burning and bubbling, melting off my bones. As I dissolved into a puddle I screamed for the cooling shadows to come back to me, but they couldn't penetrate the fire. The fire that saved me only to kill me.


I woke up sweating to find the most extensive of my wall decorations yet. It must have taken hours. I, or my body, had gathered together pieces of paper and burned them. Their ashes lay scattered about on the floor, but mostly I saw them finger painted on to my wall in the shape of a giant heart.


And Malcolm, I felt him right there, on the edge of my brain. I don't know how I knew but I felt him right there, about to take over. Everyone else who reads this, I'll explain soon, I just don't feel mentally up to it right now. So I stared at the ashen heart and I felt him growing like fire and then a huge black wave washed over me. Y'know, metaphorically. But I knew it was from Him.


The wave pushed the fire back deep down into where it came from and at the same time hit me with the strongest bout of slendersickness I have ever had. I was lucky I made it to the bathroom before I started vomiting uncontrollably. I was nauseous and had a splitting headache and I spent almost all of yesterday laid out on the bathroom floor, which is not how I like spending my weekends. At least my mom didn't send me to school today.

But the fire was gone. It was strange, almost purposeful. Like the sickness was sent to keep him from coming back. That's silly, though, right? I mean, why would he care? He wouldn't care that much about me.  

I hope my paint comes soon.  Or I'll run out of wall space and who knows where I'll draw next?

Lonely Gray

I've never really been very popular.  I doubt that comes as any kind of shock to you guys.  I had friends when I was really little, but then I showed myself as the freak I am and everything kind of spiraled downhill.  I guess that parents were a little scared to let their kids spend time with me.  And the kids had an easy enough time ganging up against me.  Kids are good at that.  I don't blame them, I'm not exactly fun to be around and it's not worth the danger.

I figure I have gotten as used to loneliness as possible, but being lonely isn't something you can just get used to.  It hurts like muscle cramps in the bottom of your stomach.  I mean, compared to the Slender headaches I've been getting recently, it's not that bad.  More dull ache, less stabbing pain.  If I don't spend time in public places, sometimes I can pretend that I'm only alone because no one's around and not because no one would hang out with me anyway.

But that's all okay.  I'm fine with that.  I've accepted that as my way of life.

This post is for different reasons.  It's about happier things.  I know, it's unexpected to see happy things on this blog.  But I am happy.

I made a friend!  Or at least, a pen pal.  A guy who responds to emails if I send them.  Usually.  It's Malcolm from Rain or Snow Services!  He and his coworkers agreed to my request for a can of paint in order to paint over my increasingly extravagant sleep drawings.  So that should be coming up soon, but meanwhile Malcolm and I talked for a bit and he's really super nice.  This is the first time in a long time that I've had real social interaction with someone who isn't my mom.  And it's nice to be able to talk with him about this Slender stuff without worrying about ruining his life.

Apparently, though, there's someone else who loves me.  Recently more and more of my unconscious doodles have been rather....personal.  

My Dearest Gray 
or
I love you Gray
or
Gray, let me protect you from the world

and just a few minutes ago when I dozed off in the middle of writing this post,

You can't trust that so-called friend.  He doesn't love you like I do.

It's taking a lot of effort not to panic.  Malcolm said he'd help me figure out what was going on.  I trust Malcolm.

Unconsciously Gray

The drawing situation is getting worse. I close my eyes for a bit and when I open them again (what I think is seconds later) I've doodled all over my skin, my notebooks, my bedroom walls. Operator symbols, crude drawings, words sometimes. Usually about darkness, but sometimes about fire. I even snapped out of a nap yesterday to find myself gouging something into my desk with my pencil. I woke up too soon to try and figure out what it was going to say.


It started with “let m”. I have some pretty good assumptions of what it was the beginning of, but I'm trying not to think about it. The less I remember how screwed up I am the less scared I am. But that's basically a lost cause at this point. I'm both too screwed up and too scared.


I should start being less obvious about it, though. The last thing I want is for any of this to reach my mom. If she saw my graffiti covered room she'd send me back to the Hospital. Or she'd start trying to understand me. She's big hearted like that. And the last thing I'd want to do is infect her. She heard the details of what happened to Graham from the police report, I couldn't keep her from that, but she has no idea what caused it. And if I get to choose she never will.


So I should probably figure out how to sneak some paint in to my room to cover up the most obvious things. And I should start trying to get control over myself while I'm asleep. I don't even know where to start on that project, but it's an important one. I don't want to do anything serious while I'm not myself. And I don't like the feeling that I'm not in control of my body. I've had too much of that in my life.



I just feel so helpless to stop it. Why is this happening to me. I don't deserve this. Every time I walk to the bus stop I see Him, standing there, off in a patch of trees, staring at me. And smiling. I don't know how something without a mouth can smile, but I feel His smile like burning directly on my soul. It's very hard to breathe when He is around. No one can accurately describe that feeling.