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.

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.