Religious Gray

I wasn't allowed back into my church after I was released from the Hospital.  I guess I should have realized that, seeing as I'm the one who burned it to the ground.  No matter how "cured" I get people won't forget what I've done.  What I am.  Just another barrier between me and Them.  Like I needed another one.

They rebuilt it while I was away.  The parents of the kids who died had a big fundraiser.  They also donated some to mental health research.  To help kids like me, they said.  Victims of circumstance.  There's a statue out front of my dad and the two kids.  A little garden and a plaque.  I don't know what it says, I'm not welcome there.  I pass by it on the bus each morning.  Why do I sit on that side, by the windows?  I think it's some form of penance.  Or self torture.  Every time I see that statue I remember why I deserve to suffer.  But now that The Kor's back he looks at it too.  Each morning we watch it pass by together, and I feel his rage.  He still hates our father.  And it's reminding me that maybe I should hate him too?  But I don't feel any anger.  He's the fire, I'm the smoke.  

He tells me that he would burn that church down again and again if it would save me from our father.

I don't know if I'm thankful for that or scared by it.  A little of both, I suppose.

I believe in God.  But why did He make me broken?  I prayed a lot, in the Hospital, and I asked Him that.  Of course He can't respond.  I just want to know why I'm like this, half a person.  I was whole at first, was it my own weakness that ruined God's creation?  Or was I a failed attempt.  A mistake.  Have you ever thought that maybe this monster that follows us is an agent of The Lord to reclaim those that were never supposed to be born?  I think about that.  It seems like divine punishment.  I know why I would be punished.  I stare the statue down every day with the other half of my soul looking through my eyes.

Today He was there, right beside it.  As if He knew that it was the beginning of my unraveling.  The loose string He will pull on and pull on until I come undone.  I am already halfway broken.  Too many souls in one and yet not enough.  A wrong person.  God's wrecked creation.  Soon to be recalled, broken down into my components and recycled.

Maybe when my souls are in hell, the clay of my body can make something that actually contributes to this world.     

That is what I pray for.

I don't know what I'm writing.  I'm tired and it's late and I shouldn't still be up.  I hope all of your tomorrows are brighter.

Thankful Gray

I'm thankful that even in our darkest hours, humans have the remarkable ability to live.

Happy Thanksgiving everybody, I hope you spent it with someone that you care about, even if those are in short supply for many of us.  I spent it with my mom, like every year.  I don't know any of my extended family if I still have any.  Obviously none of my dad's family ever knew about me and most of my mom's family cut off communications with her when she dropped out of high school to have a child out of wedlock.  They're old fashioned like that, apparently.  That's how my mom always termed it.  But she's too kind to people for her own good.

So my mom and I celebrate alone.  I don't mind.  I love my mom and I never knew what it was like to have any family outside of her, so there's no one to miss.  It means fewer people who I can lose.  That's a good thing, I suppose.  But I don't believe in the saying 'when you hit the bottom there's nowhere to go but up'.  Thinking you're at the bottom just means that you don't have the imagination to figure out how it could be worse.  I have always had a remarkable imagination, and I know that it could always get worse.  So much worse.

We have KFC.  For Thanksgiving, I mean, that's our tradition.  12 piece chicken bucket and mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, and coleslaw on the side.  Not quite turkey, but it's ours.  And we're together.  These are the moments I have to keep close for those moments when bad becomes worse, right?  Somebody told me that.  I'm not so jaded that I don't realize that even in the rainstorm that is my life there are things to be thankful for.

I'm thankful for my mom, that's she's the kindest most accepting person I could ever have the luck to live with.  I'm thankful for getting to have a good friend like Malcolm at least once before I die, and I'm thankful that he continues to tell me I'll live.  He's that kind of friend.  I'm thankful that I still have food on my table and a roof over my head.  I'm even thankful for The Kor.  Without him here, I don't think that my mom would ever have heard me laugh in this lifetime again.

I hope that you all have something to be thankful for too.  Try not to be alone over the holidays.  No one should be alone.  But I guess this world doesn't pay much attention to shoulds and should nots.

Have a good night.

Past-Tense Gray

I'm new.  Really really new.  I know people don't generally last long in this situation so it's a pretty continuous cycle of faces, but I've only even heard of Him for a few months.  So I'm not that up to date on all the blogs that are here.

There must be hundreds!  It's incredible and very very sad.  All these people, all doomed or dead already.  So many I've read about and watched disappear, so many I have yet to read.  I am nowhere near done reading all the blogs, or knowing what the current events are of all the people still alive and rolled up in this mess.  I try, I'm working my way through them as fast as I can, and considering that I spend all my time curled up in the corner of my room, I have nothing better to do.

What I'm trying to say is, maybe there's just a logical explanation for this that I was not aware of because I'm out of the loop.  For what you ask?  Well, I get back from being inside my own head to check out my blogger account and see that I have a new follower.

Morningstar.  With that same weird picture of the guy who looks like the Les Miserables cover girl as his avatar.

Morningstar psycho-killer proxy Morningstar.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure that at the end of his blog he was kinda...dead?  Isn't he supposed to be dead?  Now, I don't think there is cause for alarm, there's probably a reasonable explanation for all this.  Then again, logic seems to have flown out the window these days.

Why would he follow my blog though?  I'm below a nobody.  I'm nothing he would care about.  I guess this post is more for the general knowledge of it than for any concern on my part.  I'm not worth targeting, especially by someone important enough to bring back from the dead.

I guess that's the public service announcement done.  I'm going to go huddle in the corner of my room rocking back and forth now.  Oh wait, I'm already doing that.

Stay safe everybody.  I'll catch you later. 

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.

Failure Gray

So I promised a 'what happened' post and here it is.  But I guess to fully explain all this I should probably start from the actual beginning and explain about The Kor and all of that.  He's here now, in my head, just like old times.  I can hear him when he's awake in there, just like he can hear me if he's in control.  He's asleep now though, which is why I'm posting.  I don't feel like having his commentary on what I'm going to put here.

The Kor is an alternate personality of mine that was formed when I was seven.  My dad wasn't very nice to me for...extenuating reasons.  Most of which were his fault.  I don't want to get into that.  It's hard to type with just one arm and I can see this getting long.  I'll just leave you with this: my mom is 31 and I'm 15.  If my dad was alive he'd be in his 50's.  Do the math.  I didn't even grasp what an asshole he was back then, I just wanted him to come live with the family, help my mom out financially.  My mom refused to blame him.  He wasn't exactly receptive to my criticism.

That was when The Kor was born.  Made?  Whatever.  He took the hardships for me.  We worked well together then.  He just dealt with all the pain that I couldn't handle.  But I didn't realize how far he would go and he burned down my father's church killing him and two of my classmates.  He said that it was to protect me.  I mean, I think he really does believe that he's just trying to help.  But it did land the both of us in a hospital for the criminally insane for eight years of our life.  Where I was cured, I guess, if you consider getting rid of him a cure.  I'm not a hundred percent sure I do.  Either way I was released after he was gone for three years straight.

Though he's back now, that's self-explanatory.  And I have this feeling that He doesn't like him too much.  The Monster I saw through The Kor's eyes was not the Monster that looks at me.  And while The Kor was posting that last time the computer started freaking out and he turned around and The Slenderman was right there behind us, in my room.  I had never seen him that close before.  Though I complain because I'm weak, He hasn't actually done anything to me directly.  Other than the mental stress and the slendersickness, He hadn't done anything.

Well I could never have imagined the fear and pain.  He was not smiling anymore.  He didn't waste a second with staring like he is sometimes prone to do.  Those tentacles were out and then we were across the room hitting the wall left arm first (which is why this message comes slowly through one-handed typing).  I really thought I was going to die there.  The Kor was still screaming insults at Him through the blood he was coughing up and I was screaming for him to stop inside our head and I thought that was it, He was going to end us.  But instead he reached out (God, his arms go on forever, don't they?) and he touched our forehead and I felt The Kor get shot back.  I can't really describe how that feels, but suddenly I was back in control and The Kor was broken or something and I could feel his pain and my head was filled with screaming and I don't know if any of it was mine, but I must have been making some noise because my mom came bursting in and I was crying on the ground with my arm all wrong and surrounded by blood and now I'm in the hospital.

The Kor is slowly pulling himself back together and swearing for all he's worth.  I'm sure he's in a lot of pain, or whatever he could possibly feel, I don't know how we work.  I don't even know if he's what he used to be.  From what I've read being around Slender makes preexisting mental conditions worse.  I guess I'll find out.  Or maybe we won't.  I don't know why I'm alive now, but I am teetering on the brink of losing everything that means anything, and it seems like He takes his prey as despairing as possible.  So I'm not long for this world.

My mom wanted to know if I was being bullied.  She had found some of my notebooks, and she wanted to know if I was adopting this Slenderman stuff to try and cover up for other things.  She started researching about it.  She started researching about it.  I am a failure.  I just wanted her to be safe.  But I guess that we're both going to die painfully now.  I'm a terrible person for thinking that it would be nicer to do it together.  I'm stuck in this hospital for a while.  I'll probably post again.  Or not, if I'm dead.  Either way, I've lost any small amount of hope I had.

There is no way to escape this fate.             

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.

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.