Thursday, February 16, 2012

I could very well be crazy.
Don't think it hasn't occurred to me. Psychotic break? Hallucinations? I could be going just like

Not important. Not like I've been acting particularly rationally. For all I know, I could be entirely delusional. Hanlon's Razor isn't as nice when it's not working in your favour.

And knowing this? I could just, turn around I suppose. Turn the car around, drive back and get myself put in a mental institution.

I don't think I want to though.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Miranda is still missing.
I haven't heard from her. Phone number is out of service. Not that I blame her. I keep the battery out of mine.
So happy fucking Valentine's Day in case you read this Mir.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Why is it so hard to fucking focus?
The instantthe very fucking instant I try to stop and think
Fuck it, back on the road.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

I am a bastard. I think I've made that abundantly clear. I make no apologies for it. I like it. It works.
Until I'm given reason to feel otherwise, I don't like you. I'm not a fucking fan of people, in case we've missed that little fact.  I look out for myself, it's worked out.

I don't even known why I'm still writing this. I don't need to fucking justify myself.

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Right. So.Calm now? Yeah. Calm now. Good.
Woke up yesterday, pulled the car over to the side of the highway to sleep the night before.
I woke up this morning and someone had delivered mail.
MAIL. To a fucking car, in the middle of nowhere. Just dropped it on the hood. Asshole even put a fucking flag on it. Like one of those little swing-y arm things from the mailboxes? Duct taped to the side of the thing.

Same package as last time. The exact, same fucking package. The one that I left in Ottawa. No. Nope. Calm. Incredibly fucking calm. Okay. Good.
Yellow envelope. Like what they sometimes send airmail, with the bubble-wrap on the inside.
No, I'm not opening it. It's in a ditch somewhere south of London.

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Calm. Now is the time to be very fucking calm. Because if we are not very fucking calm I'm going to lose it and I am quite certain that Bad Things will start to happen. Keep happening.

Fuck I can't write right now need torun runrunrunrunrunrunrunrun

Monday, February 6, 2012

Assault, Breaking and Entering, and Jaywalking

So, I might just have committed a felony or two. Running down my (admittedly limited) knowledge I've just stolen, and committed assault and just a little bit of battery.

No one's heard from Miranda. Radio silence. Total radio silence.

Observations then? Just the facts?
I'm jumpy. It's interesting in a way. You get complacent. I wonder if this is how monkeys feel? You know, climbing trees to stay out of reach of things with bigger teeth and claws.

But yeah, jumpy. I really can't stand sitting around. I can hardly manage to write this post. It's like being on an adrenaline rush. Right after you've gotten scared or hit something in the face. It's just gogogogogogogo. Incessantly.

That's why I've got a car now. I've been keeping a low profile. Big crowds, transit (thank god for bus passes), trying to fade into the background noise. It worked for a little while. I saw it yesterday though. Standing in the middle of the street. I don't know how you can tell if it doesn't have a face but it was... watching me. It's mid-day and it's just standing there, nine-foot-tall and suited and faceless AND NO ONE NOTICES.

No one. Not even a blink. They just sort of stepped around it. It's like they knew something was there, but they weren't noticing just what was there.

And then I blinked. Lost line of sight. And it wasn't there. Almost freaked out. Would have had mall security called on me. Not safe in Ottawa. Not any more.

But I saw it this time. That's the important thing. I saw it.

Saturday, February 4, 2012

I'm alive. That's good news right? Ha. Ha ha.
Found this on the tumblr.

Looking more and more likely that Miranda has the camera.

The first one is from the woodlot, for certain.
I don't know about the other one. "Smile".
Yeah right. Fuck you Mir.

I've still got a little crappy point-and-shoot that Miranda left behind. I'll see if I can't get some use out of it.
I'll give the Ottawa transit system one thing. It has heated bus terminals. Lifesaver.
She's not at her house. I checked. There might have been a broken window involved. I'm not quite sure, you know? I think, that this is in order.

My name is Robin Smith.
You might know me. I spent some time trolling a few blogs. No, this isn't a fucking apology.
No, I'm not asking for your fucking sympathy. Take it elsewhere, I've got no fucking use for it.
I'm not writing this for me. I'm writing this because of her.
I have a friend. Girl named Miranda. She's missing, probably running like me. She was acting weird, before.
I didn't really mention it. Kind of regret that now.

She's about 5'7'', dirty blonde hair, dyed brown the last time I saw her. Short, sort of a pixie cut. Nose piercing.

If you see her? Drop me a line.

Friday, February 3, 2012

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck
he was right there and then he wasnt
fucking how does he just DO that?
cant see him now where did he go

so fucking cold why is it this cold even inside
i cant get warm
wheres that coughing coming from