Double Up Gray

I never wanted to be a writer when I was a kid.  I mean, I guess most people would still consider me a kid, but I don't feel like I have the capacity to think about what I want to be when I grow up.  Most of my former classmates are probably just preparing themselves to work towards their dream jobs, or at least starting to work towards their dream colleges but I'm never going to college.  It was unrealistic, money-wise back then and it's impossible now.

I wanted to be a fireman when I was really little, back when everything was still normal, which is disgustingly ironic.

But it's not worth trying to have dreams now.  I just have to live from breath to breath, and try to glean some joy from the anti-joke that is my life.  Like, what did the mentally broken boy hunted by a monster get for Christmas?  Being locked in a room with his mother's corpse.

Ha ha.  So funny.  I'm not very good at jokes.

But I'm horribly off topic.  I was trying to say that I never wanted to be a writer, but it's all I seem to do these days.  Case in point, I am now on another blog.  Miss Cordelia's blog, actually, but she wants all of us living with her to contribute.  I don't know how much I'm going to be able to "contribute" but I'll do it if she asks me to.

I'm still going to be posting on here, too.  Just, probably not so much the what happened as all those mushy gushy feelings that are the reason I have this blog which is kinda a diary as much as an obituary.  I know, ew, right?

Feel free to not read it cause hey, I hate my whiny feelings, so I bet you all are sick to death of them.  But there's more than just me on this new blog so it's probably better reading material.  God knows we may as well try to read something enjoyable while suffering.

Catch you later.

Rescued Gray

Miss Cordelia. Isn't it a beautiful name? I have never been so glad to hear such a name. She has been my salvation.

I was dying on the streets. Starving, yes, but also dying in spirit. There was nothing in my life. And then there was her. Red against the white snow, against the bleary monotones of my life.

But I couldn't see her red as the sticky red of blood, or even as the red of fire that only consumed. Her's was the red of sunsets, the red of strawberries and valentines. The cold itself could not touch her.

Her touch was as warm as her smile when she found me on the street and told me she had come to save me when she read my despair through my blog. She cared more from thousands of miles away than anyone walking these frozen streets had.

She came right out and told me what she was. A proxy. She didn't try to hide it or lie to me. A proxy, of course I was scared. I have read enough stories to know to be scared, but Miss Cordelia wasn't like that at all. She is just as saddened by the hating and killing in this world as I am. She had been sent to me by Him, but not to kill me, to save me.

I wasn't going crazy when it seemed that He saved me from Jessica's knife. He DID save me! And now He has sent Miss Cordelia to save me again. She told me...I still don't know if I believe it though it is far from me to doubt her, but it is so strange to think. She told me that I am a crafter. That it was given to me because I have "potential".

I am just a stupid useless kid. I am sure she will be disappointed if she thinks that I have any kind of power. But I don't want to disappoint her. She has been so kind, so very very kind, I wish that I could repay everything she's done for me.

But all she wants from me is to come with her so that she can keep giving. Protecting me, feeding me, giving me a bed to sleep in with a roof over my head. Teaching me about things I supposedly can do. It seems almost too good to be true.

Salvation like this doesn't just happen to me. Things never just work out. People as wonderful as Miss Cordelia don't bother with pathetic messes like me. But I can't help believing in it. I might as well enjoy it before it is inevitable ripped away from me like everything else.

I almost feel hopeful. Maybe goodness does exist in this world.

So even though I am leaving my home state of Maine for the first time ever for a city in a desert, I truly feel like I am going home. Maybe to a family.

I'll see you on the other side.

Gray

A Due DisKorse

Hey Gray, I know you're in there.  I want to make sure that you hear this little conversation, so I'm writing it down for you.  You could sleep through it, but I know that you read this blog so you'll find it when you eventually come back.  I thought it was high time that I had a talk with our mother, so I told her I'm doing homework in the kitchen and will be transcribing our conversation.  Time to learn where we stand.

Her: [Gray] I'm glad we have this time to talk.

*NOTE: About names...we have one of course.  A birth name.  No I am not going to use it, and not even for stupid security reasons like Gray.  The boy who owned that name is gone.  I am not him and Gray is not him, we are two new individuals.  We deserve our own names.  I chose my own, but Gray was stupidly attached to the original.  It wouldn't be fair if he went by it, though, that would make it seem like he was more real than I was.  I am not a figment of his imagination, we are equals.  So I named him Gray.  Seems like I have more right than this uninvolved woman to determine his name.  He wore the mask of that dead boy's name for so long, I thought he'd forget, but look.  He comes on this blog and slips so easily into MY name for him.  You know it's who you truly are, Gray.

So of course in this talk my mom was using THAT name, but since I refuse to say it and she thought that she was talking to the Gray side of us, I will transcribe it as if that's what she said.*

Me: Yeah.  Me too. 

Her: It feels like we never get to talk anymore.  Even though I spend a lot of my time working I want you to know that I'm here for you if you need to talk.  Whenever.

*GAG by the way.  How fucking sappy can she get?  But I need to act like Gray...act like Gray*

Me: Yeah, I know.  I've just been busy with school and stuff.

Her: I'm sure it's a lot of work.  How are those friends you brought over anyway?  Are you making sure Mari is fitting in?  It can be hard moving to a new school.

*The fuck?  Oh, those courier idiots who gave Gray the paint to cover over my beautiful love notes.  Best to change the topic*

Me: Yeah, she's doing fine.  Listen, I wanted to talk to you actually, about that notebook of mine you were reading.

Her: *She noticeably stiffens.  Oh, this is fun!* The...Slenderman ones, was it?  I looked that stuff up on the computer, it doesn't seem like it's appropriate for a boy your age.  Especially not with your condition.

Me: The kids at school are really into it.

Her: I thought you didn't even like that scary stuff.  

Me: It's not all that scary.

Her: Well I think it's awful.  Taking children, tearing people to shreds, chasing people through forests?  Certainly it can't help you sleep at night, living where we are.

Me: *I can't help laughing.  That gets her attention, Gray NEVER laughs.  He's a real downer* I'm not worried about nightmares.

*Ooh, look at her, she's sitting down across from me at the table getting in her 'we're having an intimate and serious talk' pose.  This is bound to be SO much fun*

Her: Do you want to talk about it to someone more...qualified than me?

Me: What, you want to send me back to an asylum?

Her: No, it doesn't have to be that serious.  We could get you set up with a therapist.  I know money's a little tight, but we have enough if it's what you need.  Or you could talk to the guidance counselor at school.

Me: You think I'm crazy.

Her: I think you're still delicate.  That notebook was...disturbing, [Gray].  Please tell me if there's something wrong.  I'm your mother, you can trust me.

Hey hey hey, look who's back?  Yes I feel your sensitive little heart reaching out to your mommy, Gray.  Glad to see you've pulled out of your slump.  Yes it was necessary to talk to her, don't give me that.  Sometimes you have to face problems head on.

Her: [Gray?]

*Whoops, guess I was quiet too long*

Me: I'm really okay mom.  You know I'm a big art geek.  Well I came across this Slenderman stuff and it was really cool looking so I doodled it in class.

Her: I'm glad, [Gray], really I am.  I was worried that you were taking this all a bit too seriously.

Me: It's serious business.

Hee hee, stop panicking Gray, I'm just gonna have a little fun.  Besides, you wouldn't have to worry about whether or not she knew it was real if it was a fact that she knew.

Her: What do you mean?

Me: Have you ever thought what it would be like if He was real?

Her: Don't say such things Gray, you make me worried.

Me: Slenderman out there, taking children, stalking adults.  I've see-

Me: I've seen movies about it.  But personally I find it all silly.  It's just a popular fad, nothing more.  I'm just trying to fit in at school.  Be a normal kid like you always say, mom. 

Yeah, yeah, complain all you want Kor.  I may be weak, but I have the drive to keep you from telling my mom that it's all real.  I can do at least that for her.  So you just cool your head inside for a little bit.  Thanks for breaking me out of that slump.

Mom: You know that you can talk to me about anything, right?  And try and stay away from that gruesome stuff.  I'm sure there are plenty of kids who have other interests that you share to talk with.

Me: Yeah, I'm sure mom.  Listen, I'm going to finish my homework in my room, okay?

Mom: Okay sweetie.  I'm glad we could talk.

Me:  Me too.  I hope we can spend a lot more time together.

So I hugged my mom and now I'm back in my room.  I'm also back in control of my body, that's fun.  The Kor and I are falling into a more regular rhythm.  Used to be we could switch back and forth rapidly, but it seems we're rusty cause it takes more effort now and the switches take more energy.  It's getting easier, though.  I don't know if that's good or bad.  For now it's me.  I don't think I'll be going back to Hakurei Ryuu's blog.  This way I can pretend she lived happily ever after, as if that was possible.

Oh look, it's snowing outside.  I like the snow.  It turns the sky and the ground the same color until the world looks like the inside of a pillowcase.

Catch you on the flip-side.

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.