Mirrors and Madness

I saw myself move in the mirror today. He turned left when I turned right, or at least he turned to my left while I turned to my right, seeing as it gets ambiguous when the other person moving is also me. It was for only the briefest of seconds that I didn't really noticed until I'd looked away, and by then it was back to normal when I glanced back. But I moved.

He was there, or the mess He's making was there, seeing as I didn't see Him. If I'm starting to witness myself making two separate decisions simultaneously like that, then I think we're in trouble - even if it was such a small one. We've moved on again, and this time I have no idea where we're going. Away from home, and that forsaken, blood-stained hotel that we ran to, that's for sure.

I don't think it can be stopped. I've been looking at everything He's doing, all this "dimensional bleeding" insanity, all the frenzy He's inspiring in His Touched, all the people crumbling under the pressure, all the death and destruction and anger. And I'm scared. I'll be honest about that. I'm scared, because I know we can't beat Him, Ben and I. I'm in too deep to be standing and fighting without losing it all, and all that leaves is running. But I have a new plan, one that doesn't involve feats I cannot accomplish. One with layer after layer of redundancy and contingency as standard. One that I can't share. They're watching the blog - He's watching the blog, in a roundabout enough way.

But when we're safe, when I've worked my magic, when everything has failed, time and time again - and I find myself still alive, having planned for it all - then you'll know. When Ben and I are safe, I'll tell you all how I did it, because by then it won't even matter.

Sorry, But I Got Bored

This is fun, watching everybody play with this new computer. I just wish I could see the hardware, review whatever databases it's using to operate and have a poke around in the programming for whatever it's running to do all this. It seems fascinatingly complex, for a text-based operating system. It looks like it can even interpret poorly spelled and ambiguously phrased input, which is remarkable to say the least. It's at very least a marvel of software engineering, just on account of the kind of things you could do with a computer and some software like that. I might consider stepping over a body or two if it got my hands on this thing and see what the actual interface is like, I'll be honest.

But that's not important. It did give me an idea, though. I thought maybe I could run a couple of scenarios by it to determine our next course of action. It would just help if I knew how the decision making processes worked and if they were trustworthy. To be honest, I don't have a lot of faith in it, seeing as it looks a little like it confused Ben and I while analyzing us, thinking I'm more stable than Ben. It's not like that damn music might sway my vote for stability past his more intelligent horror in His presence.

I'm not really supposed to be blogging, but the scars are definitely sufficiently scabbed and healing that as long as I keep from typing too fast or hard nothing will be any worse off than when I started. They're definitely not going to tear open if I'm gentle, so Ben will just have to deal. Plus, it's just too much fun trying to decide what I should ask the thing next, or if maybe talking to it might not be a good idea. Now that I think about it, it definitely not one where everybody can see you asking it about your plans while a small subset of everybody really wouldn't mind spoiling them. I can hardly ask the thing where Ben and I should go hide right out in public, now can I? Then again, I wonder if perhaps I can send in requests for calculations or analysis by email. If only I knew how it worked.

Sorry to keep you waiting

But since my idiot brother took the advice that alcohol would defeat rampant paranoia and general directionless terror to heart, it seems I'm still in charge of telling everybody what happened.

We stayed in one place too long again, and I've finally realised what I was so stupidly missing that meant The New Girl was always catching up with us. The Operator Symbol skews the time it takes for whatever part of Him that directs her to find us, and I'm incapable of drawing one without bringing Him down upon us. But that's another story.

We were both asleep, right at about five am where it overlaps for a couple of hours before Ben gets up at seven or so, when The New Girl kicked the door to our room in - which is, incidentally, the first point I've found in favour of staying in more expensive hotels. Ben was a whole lot closer to awake than I was, and jumped right up, but he tells me she just pushed him aside and into a wall and lunged at me. Needless to say, I wasn't quite capable of getting from half-awake to defending myself quick enough, and she had a knife of her own. I was tangled up in the sheets, and she was absolutely insane and I couldn't get my blade to flick out without getting stabbed in the eye or something.

I don't know how long we fought, but there was so much blood all over me, and my arms felt like they were being torn apart. Eventually she wasn't even using the knife. She just tore at the cuts until her hands were covered with blood and I was starting to feel lightheaded from struggling so much and losing all that blood. And then she stopped, and for a moment I thought maybe she'd proved a point about how her threats were real and was leaving.

But then I felt it. I felt Him coming. I struggled out of the tangle of sheets, bleeding everywhere as I got to my feet and saw my brother writhing around on the floor in apparent agony, which I'm told was a result of a rather underhanded kick to a rather vulnerable area, if you catch my drift.

She was drawing The Operator Symbol from my blood, laughing maniacally as she did. It was a full on, completely deranged slasher flick laugh like you've never heard before, and it was all made worse by that paradoxical feeling of creeping dread and growing calm that meant He was coming. The symbol she was drawing wasn't very big, and it was awfully streaky, but it was obvious what it was and that's apparently enough.

I tried to stop her, but the sheets were all over the ground and I was bleeding everywhere and woozy as shit from the blood loss and I fell over like the useless idiot I am. And then she collapsed right in front of me and started groaning in agony like she always does when He shows up. And He was just there. He was so tall, towering above the three of us lying there in various states of agony and He was in my head and all I could see was Ben dying, over and over again. The blood all over me was his, not mine and I was responsible or I hadn't tried hard enough to save him or he'd killed himself because of me. The pain was gone from my arms and the wounds weren't real anymore but there was just so much agony. I couldn't breathe. My heart wanted to escape my chest and there was something shifting in the back of my head.

And then there was bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss. I couldn't hear my brother shouting at me to run, I couldn't see him scramble across the bed to try to pick me up and get me away from that thing that is He, I couldn't feel the agony of countless open wounds all over my arms. I could hear the singing, though, the beautiful choir of souls caught in rapture. I could see Him, though, towering over us all from His seat on high. I could feel the loving warmth radiating from His heart to envelope the world. I just wanted to go home, back to those warm, loving arms.

I don't know how long it took for me to come back to myself, but I do know the first thing I did was vomit, and since I hadn't eaten for ages because I'd been alseep, it was mostly just stomach acid - and that shit burns. I mean, I still want to throw up.

He hadn't even noticed I'd vomited all over the floor of the car, he was that caught up in himself. I scared the hell out of him when I called his name, though, because apparently I'd been ranting and raving about the light of my God and a whole score of other crazy shit while he'd tried to get me away, and then once he'd gotten me into the car and done his best with my first aid kit in the boot and actually escaped the damned hotel I just fainted.

So once we'd figured out I probably wasn't going to die from the blood loss, on account of the fact I was awake again, we went back to the hotel and got all of our shit out of the room before we ran into another fiasco with the cops all over us again and cleared the hell out of there. We're getting the hell out of the state before we head to a hospital though, because as much as the bandages stop the bleeding and the neurofen kills some of the pain, I think I need stitches if these cuts are ever going to heal. Like, badly.

That took far too long and I need to change my bandages again because I'm bleeding everywhere. On that note, Ben'll probably be in charge of updating from now on, because writing fucking hurts.

We got the car back

By virtue of having parked outside the hotel, rather than in front of our room, but that and the laptop is it. Almost everything in the hotel room was gone, which more than likely means the cops have taken it. They've got all our clothes, my bag and everything in it, but they had no idea we owned a car so we at least get to keep it and the laptop. That and all our money we had stashed in the boot is everything we need to survive, so it's not all bad.

We've changed hotels yet again since we don't have enough stuff to stop us from doing so, and while this one's a whole lot cheaper and a whole lot smaller, it's at least away from that damned town and has internet access. Insanely expensive internet access that almost brings the cost right back up to where we were staying last, but internet access nonetheless.

There are a couple of problems, though, the least of which is that we've lost the spare keys to the car. Or rather, Ben's lost them, but I'm not going to start accusing him because either he left them in the hotel and the cops took them, or the New Girl snuck them away somewhere in all of this mess and neither really makes it his fault. We bought a steering lock from Autopro, which should keep whoever has the keys from making off with the car, and we're keeping all our valuables with us for the moment in the room rather than in the boot like usual.

What's worse is the loss of my backpack. There's not a whole lot in it from a physical/financial standpoint, but there are a couple of burn phones from the old job and more information than I care to have the police knowing. I'm not sure whether all the crazy stuff I've inherited from James will have them conclude it's all nonsense, or if they'll realise it's basically all the details they'd need to investigate and sting what appears to be an Australian-wide gang intent on killing a sub-set of people chosen according to some delusional criteria. I'm hoping all the dressings unique to the Touched and all the references to Him will at least make them disregard it all, but the worse case scenario is probably just some agent of His noticing it for what it really is and making it all disappear.

But I need it back, and I have no idea how to get to it. Well, I have one that it's insane and won't work, and I have another but I'm on the wrong side of the fight for it. I wouldn't mind all our clothes back, too, actually. It's probably a lost cause, I fear, and I have no idea where we're headed now that Mum's place has backfired on us so impressively.

Except that we need new clothes.

McDonald's Coffee is the Nectar of the Gods

We're on the road again. I think we got out just in time. Something terrible was set to happen, of that I'm sure. It's closer, now. He's closer. Whoever He's got following us - any money it's James, if he still lives - is closer now.

It's kind of hard to explain how my old compatriots do the following thing, because most of it is going to sleep in one place and waking up in another having bought some train ticket or convinced some trucker to give them a lift, but regardless of how it works hanging around brings them closer just like it does Him. One day whoever it is will wake up with a train ticket or an address that'll lead them right to us, and that's when it gets interesting. I've got a lot of contingencies, and to be frank, I really can't wait to try some of them out.

Not that any of them are too violent, mind. I cringe every time I see the words "fucked up another Proxy" thrown out as an afterthought. It never accomplishes anything, killing innocent people who've lost their free will. All it does is stain your soul and make you that little bit more used to killing. Well, that and deny some family somewhere any chance of ever getting their son, or their husband or their daughter back.

Do you want to know what the Touched do when they're not wearing masks? I'll answer the question for you. You don't. But I'll tell you anyway, and we can see if you'll all just learn to deal with what you've done and what you're doing.

Mostly they stare at walls, dead inside - nothing but an empty shell being driven by a poor impression of a human. Sometimes, they convulse in pain or with the intensity of 'His rapture', or speak in tongues about creatures long dead, thoughts long forgotten and the corpses of Gods. But occasionally, when He's busy elsewhere, when He hasn't bothered with the theopany in a while, they sit in the corner and cry. Or write letters to family that they'll never send, because what the hell do you say to people from a life you were torn from by a faceless God? Once in a while, some might even beg me to kill them, if they're feeling particularly hopeless.

These are people you're killing. Violent, dangerous, insane, cunning, demented people, but people nonetheless. Sometimes, they're not even Hallowed - and I have to use that word because Touched doesn't mean the same thing. We're all Touched, the Heretics and Hallowed and Taken alike, and sometime when you're "stomping the shit out of some proxy trash lol" you're just killing somebody indistinguishable from yourself a few months from now. What do you think Damien was like in his last few days? How do you think Maudin's going to end up if a prank ever goes too far? What separates them from us? The world isn't black and white, people. It's grey, endless grey, like a really shitty video game.

This post isn't for all of you, obviously. There are people out there who clearly understand the moral conundrum involved with murdering the shell of a person that's been corrupted by Him. But the more often you delude yourself into thinking you haven't been killing people, and every time you dehumanize the corpse you've just created, you do just that. Dehumanize them. This whole game - this whole fight - is one fought in the head-space of countless unlucky victims. And when a good part of that head-space just accepts the fact anyone He Takes is no longer human, it makes it very difficult for what's left of them to cling to humanity.

I get it. Killing people is hard, and it's easier when you convince yourself they're not people. And to an extent they're not, especially when they're trying to claw your brains out for besmirching His name and daring to resist His light. But somewhere inside that mind, buried deep within that grey matter and hanging from a Tree that doesn't really exist is a person, and they might not feel the pain as their body is destroyed, but they'll learn soon enough that it has been when they realise His Tree is the sum of their existence from now on.

And maybe, just maybe if you'd shot them in the knee, or been content to leave them unconscious on the floor instead of stamping their head in, they might've had another day weeks from then to enjoy a chocolate bar or watch a slightly more sane friend play Fable, or just have a shower and feel the water one more time. Or sit in a corner and cry about how much they want their mother. Like the person they are.

Frankly, it figures

Maybe it's all true, everything I've heard. Maybe Redlight was the sinful son of Adam. And also the anonymous nobody who first encountered the Slender Man, aeons ago. Maybe he did build the temple to Him, wherever it lies forgotten. Hell, every story I've ever heard about him was probably true, once, for one of him.  It's a troubling thought. If there is a game he's playing and it involves Him, then we're all fucked. All of us. The Touched are like a lifeline of normality for Him. With them hanging from His Tree, he can kind of understand how people think, and he isn't so disgusted by us, so angry and violent. They keep Him watching, learning and growing. Without us, all He is, is wrong, and all He can do is what He does best.

And if Redlight goes, a lot of my former colleagues might go with Him. It's obvious enough that anybody with enough of themselves left to want out would have the best chance then, and losing Redlight might weaken Him enough - temporarily, that is - that they'd be able to break free.

I don't like it. Redlight's playing a game that's most probably going to end with everybody you've every talked about Him to dead. You can't game Him. He doesn't understand the rules of the world like we do. And He's been in enough heads to understand betrayal and it's appropriate response.

On a much, much brighter note, I think we've been here too long. It's a middle of nowhere town halfway between another two middle of nowhere towns, but it has free internet in the hotel and I can't bring myself to leave. So we're going tomorrow, whether I want to or not. I can feel whatever's coming getting closer and nothing good is going to happen once it gets here.

Or maybe Robert's just crazy.

Redlight, Robert and Revenants

First thing's first - what's been happening lately? Absolutely nothing. We've been heading back south towards our old hometown just for somewhere to drive to, since direction helps this kind of thing, and there's been no indication whatsoever we're being followed. Which is terrible, terrible news, because it means whoever is following us knows me. That's literally all the news about us.

So Redlight.

The guy's a celebrity. Seriously. Half of my old colleagues had crushes on him, and that includes a good deal of ostensibly straight males. He's like the Jesus of the Touched community, with the added benefit of still being alive. The stories I've heard about him are obviously false, because, well, I'm almost certain he's never been to Australia and half of them are told by people who insist they've heard it from the man himself. I wouldn't worry about his 'mystical origins' if I were you, even if he is a Revenant. Still, I've heard told he's the only living descendant of Cain, the sinful son of Adam. There are stories we used to tell that say he's the first man to have ever seen Him or the first person to build a temple to a quiet forest spirit that would rather have been left alone but for some quiet worship from a few faithful followers, who was rewarded for his devotion with eternal life in service of a changing God.

It's all bullshit, of course. He may not know himself, but he's clearly Jay. It's too perfect not to be true. That's the way this works, you see - we end up telling stories, because stories feed Him while He sleeps, when our minds can't. First, He corrupts them, turns them into something more palatable - the facts change over time and we forget that this didn't happen and that did. Eventually what once was, is no longer.

So whoever Redlight was when he made that first post on Robert's blog doesn't really matter. Because it fits best if he's Jay. One day soon, when Redlight's story comes to an end along with Robert's, there'll be some small hint. We'll argue about it, quibble on this and that point and get caught up with the tiny inconsistencies that always occur when a person tells stories about themselves. But eventually, years after blogging about all of this has become trite and overdone, or after somebody discovers that you get left alone a whole lot more often if you stop telling people about all of this, then as long as He endures (which He will), someday somebody will stumble upon the circuit and discover it has changed since anyone last looked at it.

He'll have won every engagement, for one thing. As long as He outlives the civilization He haunts, that's what happens. The cold hard scientific facts of the past fade into obscurity until all that's left are stories in which the monster wins - because that's what He did so why shouldn't the histories reflect that at every turn? And if he makes the cut and remains something He remembers, then there'll be Redlight, perhaps a central figure, perhaps an unimportant footnote. But I'd bet my life he'll be Jay, because that would make the best story.

Anyway Robert and Revenants and I'll leave you all to tear my theory apart with the kind of scrutiny only your fellow Heretic is capable of. If I'm ever stuck in a repeating loop of imprisonment and insanity like that and you're given the chance to put me out of my misery, then put me out of my misery. For God's sake just let me die with some dignity. I don't care if it's Redlight or Him Himself that's offering whatever 'deal' will end up killing me, I'd really rather prefer to die.

Oh, and Robert, If you ever come across our little blog here, I'd stay out of the Forest Paths from now on, if I were you. It's kind of like taking a shortcut through a Police Station to escape from the cops. Eventually somebody catches on and locks the back door.

That's about it.

Oh, and before I forget, since I've said the word now and that kind of thing always invites speculation, I've never met a Revenant in my life. I'm still struggling to accept that they're real. When He's crawling around in your head shouting twisted memories at you constantly and trying to explode your brain by sharing His twisted versions of an emotion, you do kind of get an impression on how He works. And besides from being so terrifying your brain erases any memory of it as soon as it can, it also gives me the feeling Revenants are just not his style. Which means there's a reason a bunch of super-powered freaks are running around and it's not because He needs them. Which unsettles me.

That doesn't mean I'm not carrying around a can of mace. Super-senses aren't really the best idea for your elite warriors, seeing as it kind of makes anything capable of incapacitating a normal person because of sensory overload into a viable murder weapon. I've been trying to convince Ben to fiddle around with the car alarm to install a switch for it, since he knows a bit about electronics and that thing fricken hurts to listen to with normal ears and I'm not a huge fan of my chances of successfully employing the mace if it come to it, but he's not such a fan of messing with the car, which I guess makes sense.

And, uh, that's about it. And I mean it this time.

I might've lied about when we were leaving

Which means we might be out of contact for a while and is also the reason Ben's throwing caution to the wind and (gasp!) talking to you guys for once. I don't know when we'll get back to an Internet connection, since we're planning to go off the grid somewhat and the only places that might have free wifi in the smaller towns will be few and far between. And James (or whoever James had in line to replace him as my 'consultant' if I ran and he died), if you're hiding out the front in that house waiting to ambush us, well, by the time this shows up we'll be long gone over the back fence, so better luck next time. Or not.

We left at 10 o'clock, or thereabouts - I'm not so good about writing about future plans as if they're past events. Suck on that. I'm a huge fan of time delayed posting right now, I just wish it wasn't raining so damn hard outside, even if it makes the escape significantly more stealthy.

Anyway, why we had to leave, and also why we had to leave earlier than I told you all: There's been a former colleague of mine living across the road from Ben for some time. I kind of had a suspicion there was when I discovered one of Ben's neighbors watching the house rather intently, but it's not exactly the kind of thing you can prove just watching some old guy watching your house.

I took a little bit of a risk, calling around to see if there was anybody in the area (I said I needed someplace to stay in-between two cities which I'm not going to name, because the town Ben lives in is really the only option insofar as accommodation goes). Fortunately for me, news of my car-crash apparently hasn't traveled, since nobody seems to know I've changed sides.

Turns out there was, and he had a phone number I could contact, so I gave him a call while I was watching the neighbor watch me. We had a nice little chat about how the Touched operate, and since he was pretty far gone I managed to convince him that he'd have to spend a couple of days staring at us creepily without doing anything, since that's what people think Touched do. I won't go into detail but as far as I know it kind of works in a feedback loop and makes it what Touched do, just like all of them writing in code all the time (though, admittedly, imprinted behavioural patterns also plays a part in the code-writing being so prevalent).

Anyway, I figured we had until the weekend before he started doing anything after our little chat, since he wasn't exactly the youngest or most spry Servant I've ever met. I also figured he had orders to alert whoever he's in contact with (which if I'm going to guess is most probably James if he's still alive) when we left, so as to help arrange an ambush or set up a tail. I also figured somebody was probably watching the blog (possibly him, since he was up with it enough to use a cell-phone). Hence 'leaving' on Saturday night and actually leaving now-ish. Actually, make that now, or the ten-ish minute it'll take to pack the last of our stuff. Ben's getting a little paranoid - which I don't blame him for, I am too - so I'm going to have to go. We've got his car parked two streets away, so as to not be seen leaving. Wish us luck.

Alright then

I can't say an awful lot, because James knows people who know the address of where we're staying at the moment and I'm not sure if he's still alive or if he's told somebody about the blog, but suffice to say I discovered some things yesterday that basically give us a week as of my arrival before we have to be out of here. To keep it simple I figure we'll be leaving Saturday night or the very first moment I see something I don't like. Fortunately my nocturnal habits have been paying off since Ben used to get up every morning at five for a jog. Insanity like that is inexcusable since there really shouldn't be a five in the morning, but it makes sleeping in shifts really, really easy since we're practically pre-programmed for it.

I'll tell you all about what happened once we've left.

Also all that worry about self-fulfilling prophecy was bullshit. "Ben is not safe anymore" was about right. I'll see if I can make Ben introduce himself tonight or tomorrow, but he's kind of absolutely terrified of making a blog becasue "whah, whah, whah posting makes it real like I'm admitting it or something whine, whine, whine. NO FACE!"

I might be taking the piss. But it is a whole lot more hilarious when you're here.

Fricken Trains

Couldn't make it to Ben's.

I've been trying some rather obscure rituals in lieu of The Operator Symbol, which I drew half of to confirm the factor causing its failure is most likely me. None of the rituals that didn't involve the entrails of children stopped the growing sense of dread/calm (which is the strangest feeling I've ever experienced, on a side note) that started once I'd drawn the circle. I have a little problem with gutting children so for now at least I have to stick with staying awake, moving all night and sleeping on the train tomorrow. Bought a tonne of chocolate coated coffee beans so I'm not worried about keeping awake this time.

Anyway, it's damn cold sitting on the pavement out here so I'm going to go, but I might swing by later tonight since Starbucks keeps their internet running after they close (score!). I might write up some things that have been bugging me, now that I'm allowed to be helpful in my discourse. Expect a rant later tonight/tomorrow morning, if I can be bothered (or am forced) to leave the relative warmth of the train station and walk all the way back here.

Edit: Who likes my new theme, by the way? I figured given all this time off I've decided to take and the problems with The Operator Symbol I've encountered that's it's probably time for a change.

I really should've seen this coming

I put The Operator Symbol up and He was there almost immediately. I could feel the pull in my chest as all my anxiety, worry and fear just ebbed away. I suddenly wasn't worried about whether I would be too late to save my brother or if I'd turn up to find him still as Blind as ever and be responsible for opening his eyes. I didn't care about the fact my whole body hurt too much to run anywhere and how much that would undermine my chances of survival. I felt safe.

Of course, regardless of how pleasant it all felt and how much I longed to just get off the roof for no reason, I still realised what was going on. It was a strange feeling, being incapable of terror, feeling so safe and warm when I knew objectively I should've been beyond terrified. The Operator Symbol doesn't work for me. Hell, it's worse than that - it lets Him in and draws Him closer whenever I draw it, unless by some fluke of circumstances this was an isolated incident. When I realised, I had a brief moment when I wanted to punch M in the face, but then I remembered he'd actually said - multiple times - that all he was doing was cataloging what worked for him in the hope it would help others, not offering any sort of guarantee. What's worse is my head doesn't hurt anymore and my nose has stopped bleeding when He's around, which I'm sure are all symptoms of Him trying to make the transition all the more comfortable and easy for me.

I don't know if I'm going to be able to make it to my brother, I don't know if I'm going to be too late and I don't know if my reaching him is going to be the reason he's no longer safe. What if this is all a self-fulfilling prophecy?

Oh, and before I forget, I really do appreciate the sentiment, but it's rather difficult for somebody who doesn't have a passport to travel internationally. Nor do I have the 100 points of ID necessary to get a passport, being that practically everything I own by the way of identification has expired since this all started. I actually wouldn't be surprised if I've been declared legally dead, seeing as the state my place was in when I 'disappeared' would've made abduction and/or murder a fairly logical conclusion, what with my blood all over my bedroom. Though I guess that's the kind of thing Ben would've told me (I think). Anyway, international travel is out for the moment, at least.

The train's leaving in ten minutes (third for the day), so I've got to go. If public transport is forgiving, I'll be at Ben's tomorrow, though weekends are never good for that so I guess we'll see.

It worked

Sidekick's dead. There's a tree where his stomach used to be.

Not so sure about James - he wasn't too visibly hurt so he might have just been unconscious. Didn't check too hard for a pulse because I had to get out of there before He showed up.

By the way, crashed the car (if you missed that). I think I might've bruised 90% of my body and I can no longer turn my head to the left at will. Picked a car where I was the only one with an airbag and thought I was being smart making sure it didn't hit me in the nose. Not so much. Otherwise I'm more or less good.

Left the laptop in the bag with all our clothes to give it some bounce, so it's fine. I'll be seeing my brother soon. It should only take a few days on trains and such to get there.

Going now. They're closing soon anyway, but I'm being overly cautious for the moment and I already feel like I've been staying in one place too long. I'll sleep tomorrow morning on the train, I guess.

Can you believe I used to love the night, after I'd gotten over 'those terrible dreams' and before all this went down? It's almost funny now.