Did you hear? Supposed to be a hurricane tomorrow. All the way up here. People are panicking. Not too worried myself.
For one thing, I'm in Albany. It will barely brush by here. That's if I'm still here in the morning. Probably won't be. Been moving west again. Hope that continues. East would be something to worry about. Doubt He cares if I get wet, though.
But another reason is this: they open shelters in storms. Not like regular shelters. Open in the day. Full of people who've got homes. Can probably sleep in there safely. Won't be the easiest target at least. All I've got to steal is in this briefcase. And nobody wants to touch it.
Believe I'll get another day of rest this Sunday. Three in a row. Weird. Only the first was pleasant. Unless these storm shelters are real fancy. Doubt it.
Now, for other stuff. Still nothing to show that fire ever happened. Least not where or when he said it did. But he must've had a reason to pick Arkansas. If I end up near there, I could check. That won't be anytime soon.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Does This Even Deserve a Post?
Been trying to research the alleged fire. On the internet and at the library. Haven't had any luck. Maybe that is luck. No fire is a good thing, after all.
Still upset that He killed that guy. I was caught on His half. That guy knew things. Knew my name. Knew where to find me. Knew what I was doing. Even if he was lying, he had the truth. Doubt he was working alone, either. Since He killed him, the guy wasn't on His side. Maybe he's with the government. The FBI or whoever that covers this up. What was the one in Zeke's blog, Fink?
Oh, I never said that started working. Day after I said it wasn't. No idea what that was about. Could be your perception filter. Could be Blogger glitching out. Who knows? Better question, who cares?
Anyway, I believe the guy who caught me could work for him. Maybe not.
That's all I've got to say really. Like I said, not much of a post.
Monday, August 22, 2011
What Do I Do Now?
I came back yesterday morning in a small room. Gray tile floor. White walls. Door with no handle. Fluorescent lights on the ceiling. Big mirror on the wall. I've seen movies. Knew it looked like an interrogation room.
Waved to the mirror. No response. Walked over and knocked on it. Voice came through a speaker on the wall over the mirror. Didn't notice it before. A man's voice, and all it said is my old name. The one I had when I was a person.
It's weird. I should have been surprised, confused, nervous. But I wasn't. Sort of expected something like this to happen eventually. They'd catch me, find out who I had been, find all the things He did with me. Then they'd try to bring me to court. I'd be told to get a lawyer. Wouldn't really need one. Already have a man-shaped thing in a suit on my case.
Anyway, I shook my head. Pretended to be confused. That's when it stopped being what I expected. He turned the light on in his room, and I could see him. Middle-aged, salt-and-pepper hair, broad shoulders, rugged face. No uniform, just a suit. He had a folder on the desk in front of him, and he took some newspaper clippings out. Started reading one. It was about a fire. A fire that killed my father in July.
My reaction was enough for him to confirm who I was. He nodded. Said he understood why I had lied. Said he knew about my situation. Said he knew my father. Worked with him. Was there when he died. Said the fire was His doing.
I hardly knew my father. He left when I was still a toddler. I know what he looked like, but only from pictures. He always sent me birthday cards, never with a return address. My mother said he worked for the CDC. I don't know if he was on that road in my nightmare. He should have been, near the end at least.
As the man behind the glass started to explain how it happened, the light in his room shut off and his voice was cut off by static. I felt dizzy and nauseous. Had to lean on the wall. I knew He had come. After a few minutes, the feeling that He was near went away. I knocked on the window again. No response. I was trapped.
So I slept. Nothing else I could do. Nobody came all day. No wi-fi in that room either. I hoped He wouldn't just let me starve to death in there. And my hopes were answered. Obviously, or I wouldn't be posting this.
But He didn't keep His part of the deal. My father shouldn't be dead. And there's nothing I can do about it.
Waved to the mirror. No response. Walked over and knocked on it. Voice came through a speaker on the wall over the mirror. Didn't notice it before. A man's voice, and all it said is my old name. The one I had when I was a person.
It's weird. I should have been surprised, confused, nervous. But I wasn't. Sort of expected something like this to happen eventually. They'd catch me, find out who I had been, find all the things He did with me. Then they'd try to bring me to court. I'd be told to get a lawyer. Wouldn't really need one. Already have a man-shaped thing in a suit on my case.
Anyway, I shook my head. Pretended to be confused. That's when it stopped being what I expected. He turned the light on in his room, and I could see him. Middle-aged, salt-and-pepper hair, broad shoulders, rugged face. No uniform, just a suit. He had a folder on the desk in front of him, and he took some newspaper clippings out. Started reading one. It was about a fire. A fire that killed my father in July.
My reaction was enough for him to confirm who I was. He nodded. Said he understood why I had lied. Said he knew about my situation. Said he knew my father. Worked with him. Was there when he died. Said the fire was His doing.
I hardly knew my father. He left when I was still a toddler. I know what he looked like, but only from pictures. He always sent me birthday cards, never with a return address. My mother said he worked for the CDC. I don't know if he was on that road in my nightmare. He should have been, near the end at least.
As the man behind the glass started to explain how it happened, the light in his room shut off and his voice was cut off by static. I felt dizzy and nauseous. Had to lean on the wall. I knew He had come. After a few minutes, the feeling that He was near went away. I knocked on the window again. No response. I was trapped.
So I slept. Nothing else I could do. Nobody came all day. No wi-fi in that room either. I hoped He wouldn't just let me starve to death in there. And my hopes were answered. Obviously, or I wouldn't be posting this.
But He didn't keep His part of the deal. My father shouldn't be dead. And there's nothing I can do about it.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Problems and Resolution
This has happened to you. It's hot. You go into a place with AC. You leave. So much hotter. You were handling the heat better before you went inside. That's how I'm feeling. Glimpse of how it could be, then back to how it is. I'm just whining. I'll get used to it again. Oh, and it's hot too. Not the point.
Bigger issue. Too close to where I'm from. Have to avoid being recognized. That would be very bad. But I don't look like I did last I was here. Might not be a problem. If I really come back in my hometown, though, I'd recognize them. Nearly as bad. Reminders of what He's taken. He wouldn't do that. If what Messi saw is the usual, then there's no reason bringing me there. Not a city. Don't even really have a town square. Nowhere good for advertising.
And that's another thing. Advertising? Why does He need to take 12 whole hours for that? Why does He need any time? He's got hostages. I'd do it myself to prevent Him from killing them. Not as bad as I thought it would be. Only part I wouldn't do is use that Path.
The Path. Nobody knows too much about it. Contacted Spencer because I read that he's used it. Gave me some answers. (If you are him, thanks for getting back.) Still, a mystery. That's useful. Useful for what, you ask?
I have some facts. I have some questions. Questions nobody can answer. Up until now, I've tried to ignore the questions. It doesn't work so well. Now I'll come up with a story using the facts to answer the questions. Something I can believe. Then just avoid contrary facts. That's my resolution.
Bigger issue. Too close to where I'm from. Have to avoid being recognized. That would be very bad. But I don't look like I did last I was here. Might not be a problem. If I really come back in my hometown, though, I'd recognize them. Nearly as bad. Reminders of what He's taken. He wouldn't do that. If what Messi saw is the usual, then there's no reason bringing me there. Not a city. Don't even really have a town square. Nowhere good for advertising.
And that's another thing. Advertising? Why does He need to take 12 whole hours for that? Why does He need any time? He's got hostages. I'd do it myself to prevent Him from killing them. Not as bad as I thought it would be. Only part I wouldn't do is use that Path.
The Path. Nobody knows too much about it. Contacted Spencer because I read that he's used it. Gave me some answers. (If you are him, thanks for getting back.) Still, a mystery. That's useful. Useful for what, you ask?
I have some facts. I have some questions. Questions nobody can answer. Up until now, I've tried to ignore the questions. It doesn't work so well. Now I'll come up with a story using the facts to answer the questions. Something I can believe. Then just avoid contrary facts. That's my resolution.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Tentatively Good Mood
You've already seen where I was yesterday. Or maybe your blog following priorities are messed up. I mainly slept all day, but it was in a bed. With a pillow and everything. Would it be pathetic to say that's the highlight of my year so far? Because it was. Not just the bed, but the shower, too.
And the company, of course. Haven't been able to really speak to anybody about any of this. Have to lie to everyone who talks to me. Don't want to get anyone involved who isn't. Haven't run into anybody who is involved. Even if I did, I'd avoid them. They might misunderstand my situation. But yesterday, I got to speak to people who understand. At least in part. And I feel better for it.
But he hasn't put up what happened last night. That's what worries me. Why it's tentative. I wasn't hurt or dirty this morning. So it might not have been too bad. But Messi knows. Maybe Poe. Soon we all will. Have to find a new subtitle.
If it's really bad, I won't blame you for being disgusted at me. If He uses me to strangle kittens or something, I'll be disgusted too.
I'm afraid to know. I need to. But it scares me.
And the company, of course. Haven't been able to really speak to anybody about any of this. Have to lie to everyone who talks to me. Don't want to get anyone involved who isn't. Haven't run into anybody who is involved. Even if I did, I'd avoid them. They might misunderstand my situation. But yesterday, I got to speak to people who understand. At least in part. And I feel better for it.
But he hasn't put up what happened last night. That's what worries me. Why it's tentative. I wasn't hurt or dirty this morning. So it might not have been too bad. But Messi knows. Maybe Poe. Soon we all will. Have to find a new subtitle.
If it's really bad, I won't blame you for being disgusted at me. If He uses me to strangle kittens or something, I'll be disgusted too.
I'm afraid to know. I need to. But it scares me.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
That Went Badly
I felt like distracting myself from reality today. So I went and saw the last Harry Potter movie. Or tried to see it. I saw most of it.
It was good. I still ship Harry/Hermione but I didn't expect any of that from this one. First part had plenty. Their special effects looked good. Neville was epic. They didn't give enough time to showing who died. I'm not a reviewer. Maybe you noticed. Can't speak for the ending either.
See, Harry was fighting Voldemort and it got all distorted. Video tearing, I believe it's called? And the audio got all muffled. Like it was happening underwater. I look around and nobody else is in the theater. Weren't many to start with. And they were all gone. Look back to the screen and there He is.
Not in the theater. In the movie. He took Voldemort's place. Shot out some tentacles and held Harry up. Blood starts pouring from Harry's scar, then his head splits open. It was horrible. Then it was over. Black screen. I left the theater. People reappeared once I came out the door into the hall. It wasn't time for the movie to end. But I wasn't going back in.
I assume the real movie ended like the book. Harry wins. Bunch of people are dead, but evil's gone. Survivors go on with their lives. Stupid epilogue.
Will any of us live to be in the epilogue?
It was good. I still ship Harry/Hermione but I didn't expect any of that from this one. First part had plenty. Their special effects looked good. Neville was epic. They didn't give enough time to showing who died. I'm not a reviewer. Maybe you noticed. Can't speak for the ending either.
See, Harry was fighting Voldemort and it got all distorted. Video tearing, I believe it's called? And the audio got all muffled. Like it was happening underwater. I look around and nobody else is in the theater. Weren't many to start with. And they were all gone. Look back to the screen and there He is.
Not in the theater. In the movie. He took Voldemort's place. Shot out some tentacles and held Harry up. Blood starts pouring from Harry's scar, then his head splits open. It was horrible. Then it was over. Black screen. I left the theater. People reappeared once I came out the door into the hall. It wasn't time for the movie to end. But I wasn't going back in.
I assume the real movie ended like the book. Harry wins. Bunch of people are dead, but evil's gone. Survivors go on with their lives. Stupid epilogue.
Will any of us live to be in the epilogue?
Monday, August 8, 2011
Just Cleaning
I don't like having that post on here as a post. Didn't write it. Doesn't belong here. This is my blog. The posts will be written by me. Not some irritating troll sent by Him.
But what the troll said matters. Sort of. Because it was His will. So here it is:
But what the troll said matters. Sort of. Because it was His will. So here it is:
FRIDAY, AUGUST 5, 2011
lolno
cant let u do that star fox
Posted by some troll at 22:10
And the comments. Not mine to delete. Except the ones that are. Anyway:
Elaine said...
... Atalanta, what the fuck is going on?
06 August, 2011 00:53
Atalanta said...
Note to self: Log out next time.
But I believe that's the answer to my question. I'm still here since He wants me to be. Of course. Should've known.
06 August, 2011 15:29
Spencer said...
... you remind me of a kid I know. Started babbling about lack of choice and then he turned proxy. Quitter.
I think you'e better than that, sweetheart. And believe me, people are listening.
07 August, 2011 16:55
Atalanta said...
I made the same choice as your kid. I chose to save half of my life and the lives of everybody else I knew. The right choice.
This blog? Wrong choice. He wanted me to do it. Why? No way to know. But I believe it's the same reasons I want to stop.
What I need to do is make this useful. Just don't know how.
07 August, 2011 18:52
Spencer said...
Spencer said...
There's really no answer to that.
I started a courier service.
Elaine started to research.
Konaa vowed to fight.
I started a courier service.
Elaine started to research.
Konaa vowed to fight.
I guess it's a different choice for everyone.
Either way, it's something that you'll need to decide on your own. Maybe the blog can help....? I don't know.
As for that kid? He did it for a reason. Abandoned his friends for revenge, it seems. Abandoned... pretty much everything, really. Only thing was that he went back on his beliefs.
... I have to wonder. Are we all going to end up doing the same thing...?
08 August, 2011 13:26
08 August, 2011 13:26
Now to get rid of it. If you want to comment on it or these comments, do that on this one.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Why Am I Here?
I don't know why I'm still here. Nobody knew the boy. Nobody ever will. My reason for making this blog is gone. Don't need a blog to talk to myself. Won't change any opinions of me if I do it out loud. Most homeless people are crazy, right?
And talking to you? I'm not helping anyone. I can't. No way to get to people and no useful knowledge. Might even be making things worse. For you and for me. You see this and have more doubts when your own life is on the line. I see you and remember stuff I'd rather forget. Or I start to hate you because you're free.
I'm going to drop out again. Pretend like I don't know about Him. It worked before. He stayed in His half of my life. I'll put this laptop in the briefcase and leave it here outside the McDonalds. If any of you want it and are nearby, go ahead and look for it. Nobody's tried to steal it before. I don't know why, but I don't believe they'd take it now.
Still writing? No, I'm done. I can't do this anymore. There's no point.
And talking to you? I'm not helping anyone. I can't. No way to get to people and no useful knowledge. Might even be making things worse. For you and for me. You see this and have more doubts when your own life is on the line. I see you and remember stuff I'd rather forget. Or I start to hate you because you're free.
I'm going to drop out again. Pretend like I don't know about Him. It worked before. He stayed in His half of my life. I'll put this laptop in the briefcase and leave it here outside the McDonalds. If any of you want it and are nearby, go ahead and look for it. Nobody's tried to steal it before. I don't know why, but I don't believe they'd take it now.
Still writing? No, I'm done. I can't do this anymore. There's no point.
Monday, August 1, 2011
It Was Him
I have his wallet. The guy I dated. The one I thought I saw. And I did see him. Here's his license, his debit card, his library card, all of it. But I don't know why.
If you're jumping to bad conclusions, you're not alone. I waste too much time on maybes. Not doing that again. You can come up with plenty yourselves. As always, I'll never know. Neither will you, unless you're psychic. Is it weird I still doubt psychics when I'm being mind-controlled by an evil god?
Hard to know what to do with this. Not without knowing how come I've got it. What He made me do to him.
That's awkward. Hope my pronouns aren't confusing anyone. I just don't like any of the names for Him. They're descriptive, but they don't describe the important things. And a lot of them are just goofy.
I was trying to write about this wallet. Should I get rid of it? Hold onto it? It could be evidence, right? There's already been plenty of evidence. I should have been arrested a hundred times. Am I invisible to police? I don't even know there was a crime here. He could have just dropped it and I picked it up, even when it wasn't really me. No, that's dumb.
Here, I'm just typing to myself and nobody wants to read this. I'll finish it up.
If you're jumping to bad conclusions, you're not alone. I waste too much time on maybes. Not doing that again. You can come up with plenty yourselves. As always, I'll never know. Neither will you, unless you're psychic. Is it weird I still doubt psychics when I'm being mind-controlled by an evil god?
Hard to know what to do with this. Not without knowing how come I've got it. What He made me do to him.
That's awkward. Hope my pronouns aren't confusing anyone. I just don't like any of the names for Him. They're descriptive, but they don't describe the important things. And a lot of them are just goofy.
I was trying to write about this wallet. Should I get rid of it? Hold onto it? It could be evidence, right? There's already been plenty of evidence. I should have been arrested a hundred times. Am I invisible to police? I don't even know there was a crime here. He could have just dropped it and I picked it up, even when it wasn't really me. No, that's dumb.
Here, I'm just typing to myself and nobody wants to read this. I'll finish it up.
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