Always with the running

He's following me.

Six times. Six times I've seen him today. Not going to stop tonight. Can't stop.

It just stands there by the side of the road. Suit and no face.
And there's a sound. That's not right because it's not really a sound. You know how really low bass, you don't so much hear as feel through your feet and your lungs? Or a really high pitched note you can feel in your teeth and behind your eyes more than you can hear it. And it doesn't have direction. Like a low-flying jet. It's coming from everywhere at once.

I just read that again. I'm not making anything even remotely fucking resembling sense.

He's there, outside. Watching. It's funny isn't it? He's watching. I know he's watching but he DOESN'T HAVE ANY FUCKING EYES. How can he be watching without eyes? I don't know. Drives me right up the bloody wall it does.
No one else can see him. It. It's just standing there out on the other side of the street.

How many do you think are in mental institutions? Because they can see it but no one else does?
This is what it feels like to question your own sanity, isn't it? And there it fucking is again and again that sound that isn't a sound. It's high and low and everywhere all at once why can no one else hear it? There are a dozen people in this shop, and they can't see him. I've got to be fucking mad right? They can't hear it.

Fuck it. Need to keep moving.

Air Raid Sirens

Bit of a bad season. Lots of dead people. Didn't know any of them, but I try to keep up with the obits. I have to keep score somehow, right? We've actually got confirmation that Zeke Strahm, face-punching, gun-toting, ex-cop wunderkind is dead. Not pretty at all, had to happen eventually.

This isn't the time or place for heroes. It's time to start looking for cover.
Air raid sirens and thunderclouds. Hope I can run fast enough. You're dead if you stay still, and standing on the high ground is just asking to be struck by lightning.
Anyone who says otherwise is fucking mental. Delusional, to a man. Some of them had fucking messiah complexes.
Heroes get killed. No question. It's just a matter of how many people are unlucky go with them.

Time to get back on the road. A knife wound and broken fingers obviously weren't disincentive enough for some people.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Miranda

Where in the everloving fuck are you? You broke into my account? To post a fucking comment? You can fucking well do that without guessing at my password. SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK? Answer your goddamned phone. I'm not even kidding at this point. You weren't at class yesterday? Yes I checked.

Just answer the phone.

AWOL

My own bed again. And if you'd believe it, I still haven't bothered unpacking. Haven't really had the time.

Went by Miranda's house yesterday.
Actually, let me preface this by saying that she hasn't answered her phone in two days. She always answers the phone. Even if it's just to say "busy now, talk later." 
So I walk to her house. We've got plenty of snow here, nice and crunchy where it hasn't turned to slush. Knock on the front door. No answer. Maybe she's gone somewhere? Don't recall her having any plans though. And there's a shit-ton of mail piled up. I took a look, she's got one of those flap/slot things on her door for mail.

At least a week's worth.

Of course, the neighbours seemed a little wary of some short white dude in a jacket looking through someone's front door. Threatened to call the cops on me, so I scrammed.

Went back that night, there's no lights on in the whole house. Where the everloving fuck are you hiding Miranda?

Hey, Mir? If you read this, pick up your fucking phone. So I can punch you through it. I will find a way to do it. Disappearing is not fucking cool.

Merry Fucking Christmas

You can read, right? It's Christmas eve, so I'm getting dragged off to non-secular festivities. Not especially happy about it. On the other hand, four hours until the twenty fifth.

I'd forgotten what I didn't like about Christmas.

Fuck it. The whole damned season.

More updates

So, I've talked with Miranda. Good news! She knows about this blog. (Hi Miranda)

How to best go about this then? Well, let's start with the obvious update. Caffeine free:

I'm still doing pretty good without the caffeine. My sleeping had normalized a little before we went into "OH SHIT EXAMS TIME" and I started fucking with my sleep again. At this point I'm catching naps or scraps of sleep whenever I can.

Suffice it to say, sticking with my personal challenge is proving harder than expected.

Miranda: Take the chance to thank Rynia here. Miranda found me liveblogging MH (part of the reason that's on hold) and recognized it. How you recognize one shaky cam video out of a few dozen I don't know. We got to palavering and things followed. That was a few days back.
She's... yeah let's go with 'intense' as a word to describe her. Apparently I am seeing her. This was an... I think this qualifies as an ultimatum.