Sep 9, 2011


sorry it came to this. sorry i wasn't...

things are worse. worse every day. no other options.

irresponsible. gifted. he called...

you won't understand. it's worse. a thousand times worse.

not strong enough to help myself. not strong enough to help anyone.

sorry. sorry for trying - not enough. sorry for any of you i might have infected.

only made it worse. nothing any of us can do.

sure of this. for now, adieu.

Sep 7, 2011


After careful consideration, I decided to omit... basically everything I was going to show you. Everything but this. The rest I'm going to burn. Well, I might burn this one, too, but I haven't decided.

It's Rhodes.

I scanned this earlier today at the library and I guess the file got fucked up somehow. What does it matter, though - as far as I can tell, no important details have been left out, and I'm not going back just to rescan it if you get the basic gist.

It came along with about a dozen others that are sort of similar, but they're so smudged, I can't see where outline turns to shade. I'd rather save my money.

I don't know what to make of it. Honestly, I'm surprised it's not... something else, knowing what he does.

Maybe I'm not thinking clearly. Maybe you can tell me, "oh obviously this means Rhodes was a fucking snake charmer" or something, because to you it might be completely fucking obvious. Hell, I've been living on bread and water, it's just easier than anything else, and before today I hadn't been outside in... I don't even know how long.

Shouldn't talk about that, though. I'm definitely not at liberty to say where I've been for the past few days.

...This blogosphere used to be a cathartic outlet, a way for us to have some semblance of permanence, of friends, of people to share in our hardships. And now we've got to watch ourselves, because the smallest slip could mean someone's untimely demise. The Enemy is watching. It's not a haven anymore. It's a hostile environment. It doesn't, shouldn't help any of us. Anyone is a spy, anyone is an innocent, and there's simply no way to tell.

So why does it still make me feel better when I've pressed the publish button and I know someone out there is reading? That should horrify me. It should.

Sep 3, 2011

Happy birthday to me.

Konaa woke me yesterday morning, coffee in hand. "Rise and shine, birthday girl."

He is way too damn cheerful. I am not a morning person. The coffee was tempting, but I would rather have lied in bed for another few hours.

He wasn't going to have that though. He shoved the coffee right under my nose: dark, bitter, Colombian - my favorite.

I muttered something profane and took the stupid coffee. That's when I noticed the package on the desk, tied with a blue ribbon. I groaned. "You got me a present?"

Of course he had. I shook it. Something small and probably metal knocked around inside. He was getting impatient at my overcautiousness, so I rolled my eyes and murderized the packaging tape.

I withdrew a locket from the box and held it up to the light. Konaa seemed nervous. It was kind of cute. "Well?" he goes.

It was pretty. A bit of a strange gift though. Naturally, it was empty. What am I gonna put in there?

I had him help me put it on. It's difficult to do clasps with one hand. "Thanks, June." Konaa twitched, but I laughed.

So it turns out there's a theme park not fifteen minutes from here. Guess what I did to celebrate being an "adult"?

I've got a lot to show you guys, I'll see if I can't get to a scanner of some sort soon.