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

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.

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.             

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.

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.