Notes to Cindy: The Archives

Like the train in Alice, I can feel the brain damage accelerating as I move from place to place via the bus line. Arideth says it will all be ok. She says She'll bring the other's back. The Fragmentation System running as always makes an audible click in my brain. I'm seeing things that aren't there. Like earlier, this woman became a nun and for some reason, It occured to me that nuns might possibly be evil. I'm retracing some steps now in a sense. Treading over lost memories as new events show themselves to be parallel. AML said I could handle it. That I was ready. That I have to be. I can't say that I disagree, I mean my life has lead up to this possiblity. However, I am uncertain what this may do to my psyche. For all I know, I may die too. All thrusters at full throttle... virtualizing trinity... summoning demons... hacking souls... It's risky business. 

Smoked a spliff with a stranger.
Stranger was Danger. 
Grabbed my bra and was angered
when i denied this limp wanker. 

When I got to the tent last night, the tent was flat to the ground. The bears tore a hole in the floor and snapped one of the tent poles. Everything was still dry after the first storm wave thanks to the tarp that Shayna got me. All that was left of the food was a package of dried almonds. I trecked back to Ingles to get some ducktape. On the way back, these two snooty berry pickers told me I shouldn't be here, after I told them what happened. They said, "WE have two families of bears up here, so hanging your food here won't help. You just need to leave." On the way up here, one of them said, "This is a BEAR trail not a HUMAN trail." All I could think was that they don't own the bears and this is private property so they don't belong here either. I spent my last few bucks on some ducktape and waited for the storm to pass. I kinda fixed the tent. I ducktaped a couple of sticks to the tent pole and ducktaped where the two poles cross. I cut open one of the destroyed tents that was left here and attempted to patch the hole, but everything was too soaked for the tape to stick. In fact, everything in the tent was soaked. Everything was dry after the first wave of storm. During the second, however, everything went to shit. I found a note from the girl I met yesterday who gave me some food and the ten bucks. The note was soaked, but I was able to make out "It's the girl you spok... yesterday. Meet me... bridge... 8am tomorrow." So that's what I'm gonna do. By the time I post this and message it to Alice, I will have a further update. Until then, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to sleep honestly. The tent is rickety now, and I don't know how it's going to hold up against further storms. Plus it's hard to sleep on wet blankets and a wet pillow. Not to mention, now that the bears no that they can get in here, I have a feeling they might come back, regardless of there no longer being any food here.

TL;DR

Bears fucked my shit up. Everything's wet. Rigged it. Too unstable for storm. Probably won't sleep tonight. More news later.

There's a "Bermuda Triangle" in Fletcher. North Carolina, and right now, I'm living in it. It was poison that led me here- poison plants, poison creatures, poison water, poison places, poison people, a poison mind, a poison life made up of poison events.... I'm scared. I'm paranoid. I wish the poison would hurry up and kill me. After twenty-three years, It still hasn't and I'm afraid it never will.

So, here I sit, naked and vunerable, in the small jungle of Flecher Park, attempting to write, but I'm not sure I know how anymore. I'm exhausted physically and emotionally, but every time I try to sleep, I just drift in and out of hallucination. If I wanted to hallucinate, I'd overdose on LSD. This shit is just ridiculous.

If I were to jump in the creek and let its current take me to a deserted island, that island still wouldn't be my home. The Irony of being "Homeless" is that I've spent most of my pathetic waste of life without one. I've only ever had two places of my own and life proved to me very quickly that I did not belong in either of those places, and they were most certainly not mine. I keep thinking, "This is it. This is my family. These are my friends. This is my perfect job. This is my chance." Every fucking time though, just as I'm getting comfortable, life kicks me back to the fucking streets. Why do I persist in this endless cycle of disappointment? Why do I even bother? If I want to die so badly, why can't I fucking do it.

My oppertune moment never came. Tomorrow morning, it will be too late. I have to proceed with the instinct to leave at night. So, tonight, after everyone has long been asleep, I'll leave. Regardless of direction, or weather, it MUST be tonight. NO exceptions.

Okay, I'll give this 12-16 more hours. I might be able to get a better feel of where to go if I go to the Welfare Department tomorrow.

Tonight was cancelled on account of rain, so another 12-16 hours it is. I keep looking for a chance to sneak a call to Tamara, but no such luck. Tomorrow, though, I really need to leave.

A Saturday... a day that used to mean no school, relaxing, taking time to go outside, watch television, indulge my imagination with pen and paper.... Today, I sit here, bored, lonely, trapped, in lack of nicotiine or the motivation to function. I've been here for seven days and I've yet to leave this house. I'm mustering the patience to wait until I can go to the library. I'm thinking about walking to Kenny's and asking for a ride into town. That should, in theory, cut my travel time by a fourth, or possibly even a third. When I get back, I plan on getting together with Anthony, Nick, and Khriss, to discuss putting this job thing on full power, as well as Tamara, of course. I actually plan on calling her from either Kenny's, Nick's, or Khriss's, phone. I came here to see if it was the right move. It wasn't. I was impatient, frustrated, depressed, and afraid; therefore, I ran from my problems, like I'm so prone to doing. All I know is that I need to get out of here before the door closes on my former path, which will be right around the corner... within the next few weeks. "GET OUT!!!"

K... I've finally had enough of Baylee's gossiping, rumor encouraging, condenscending, drama-queen, mouth. Fuck that bitch. I can't associate myself with her any longer. She is nether sister, nor friend, nor casual acquaintance to me. The sooner I get out of here, the fucken better. I'm leaving tomorrow. I will find my way home. I know I will. I will find her again. the earlier I leave, the better, so that I can make some ground before nightfall. My stuff is already packed. The first chance I get after dawn will be my oppertune moment, and I must take it fully prepared and without hesitation.

Regardless of what I might tell myself, and what other people might say about her, I am still in love with Tamara Joan Laughter, aka Anya Tamira Straigya. I don't know how I'm going to do it, but I need to get back to Hendersonville, before it's too late. I was an idiot for coming here. There's nothing for me here. No love, no friends, no work, no hope, no dreams- just empty, worthless, pointless, existence. I'll get myself back on the path I was on, one way or another. This path is wrong, under-processed... rash. I don't take these kinds of chances, and I shouldn't have ever taken this one. I should have met up with Anya; I know, now, the mistake I made. It was impatience that brought me here. Nothing more. I'll arrange plans to leave within the week. As soon as I can get directions from a library, I'll be able to go.

I thought it was fucking Spring, but here I am in this tiny tent at 2:30pm and it's colder than it was in the fall. Anya and I spent one last day together, after a night at Obie's, shopping for food, pitching the tent, and making love for what seems the last time. I spent three hours trying to get the computer to connect to the internet at Ingles, to no avail. I then took it to Anthony's, where I spent a couple of days talking to her. Even after offering to move the tent near her grandmother's, she was still convinced we should break up. So, we did. Despite all my efforts and optimism, we aren't together anymore. I told her I'd leave the computer at Anthony's for her to retrieve, and that she knew where to find me if she wanted to talk. David gave me a ride to my tent yesterday, at around 3:30pm, because it had been raining and extremely cold. Even with several layers of clothes on and a blanket that typically keeps me sweating, even in the dead of winter, I spent the next 23 hours shivering or sleeping. I'm debating whether or not to contact her again or to just let it go for a few days to see if she worries about me enough to come find me. I wish I could just see inside her mind and witness all the things she's not telling me, because I know there's more to it than this... I just don't know what it is.

My world has fallen apart.... We're expected out of here by the first of April. I have no where to go but the streets and Anya refuses to live in a tent again. With everything that has happened, to live apart is to break up. We've tried everyone and there isn't a roof for us to live under together anywhere. So, in a couple of days, I'll be going to the streets and she'll be going somewhere else. For the first time since February of last year, I will be completely alone, and this time without the luxury of friends to talk to online. I have never been so alone in my life. It's frightening, and heartbreaking, and depressing, and it's already worn down the foundation of hope and security which I spent so long building for myself. There is no hope. There is no security. There is no mercy in this world, no purpose in life, nor strength in love. Eventually, everything dies. There is only abstinence of death by those too recalcitrant to allow nature to run its course. Even then, you can only push it back for so long, before the world balances it all out. This relationship, this love, these dreams, this hope, this false sense of security, this miserable life... it was all meant to die. It's questionable if these things were ever meant to be born in the first place. Nothing is constant. Nothing is predestined. The only thing fate has in store for anything is cessation. This being said, we are fools to fight and struggle with it, for the end result will always be the same, so... instead of struggling with it, we should just welcome it. I've worked so hard to create a legacy, after coming to this same conclusion so many years ago, but this love made me lose sight of that; it blinded me to the absolute. I fear, now, my work will never be finished, and I'm not sure whether or not I'm okay with that, yet. True, my legacy has the potential to live on, but chances are that it will become outdated and unimportant. It, too, will eventually die, along with everything else. That being said, I suppose it's okay if I die tonight without ever finishing what I barely started in the first place... ok, but the animal's instinct for self-preservation is such that how may I ever take my own life with nothing more than a dull razorblade which struggles to sever even the fine hairs upon my skull? I have no rope, no firearm, no gasoline, no cliffs or deep bodies of water. Death is not the curse upon humans. It is the persistence of life where it is meant to end that afflicts our minds. Show me a way to kill myself which doesn't involve firstly conforming to life and I shall call you a saint amongst prophets and beggars. Show me a way to end the story without first finishing the middle! Is there no such gift? Do I really have to work towards life before I may greet death, or is there some sort of loophole I'm missing? FUCK! Why must I continue to live without purpose or even the will? How do I escape this labyrinth? STRAIGHT AND FUCKING FAST! Watch my life consume the tile of a bathroom floor until I lose consciousness and fall into a sweet oblivion. How I wish it were so simple, but alas, I have no object sharp enough to do the job. FUCK THIS LIFE!!! Death is the answer we will all soon face.

She left me with a choice to either stay in Hendersonville or leave. If I stayed, she'd help me by borrowing Jason's tent and purchasing an air matress. Her mistake is thinking I bought out tent and air matress for my own comfort. I can't stay in Hendersonville while she's here, not if we're living apart and, therefore, broken up. So, I left. She knows I have no where to go, no person to turn to, but she let me go anyway. I gave her three chances to stop me, but she didn't. My heart told me to give her another chancem however, so I wrote a note, telling her that I'd be waiting in the graveyard for the next few hours, which without a watch, is for the forseeable future, and I left it on the porch for her to find. If she comes, great- possibly. If she doesn't, I guess it's off to the open road for me. Even after all that has happened, I somehow still have hope that things will work out for us, though hope has let me down so often in the last ten months alone.

I'm not sure how long it's been, but it has been long enough for her to read the note. Tat much, I am fairly sure of. My hope quickly diminishes with every passing second. Stubbornness is all that keeps me sitting against this tombstone, waiting for what is unlikely to come.

She came, but no such luck. She'd sooner watch me die and this relationship end, than live in a fucking tent for a month.

MARCH 30TH, 2013

Well, Anya's gone again. Stupid Tracfone takes off two minutes daily, whether or not I use the stupid thing, so after my and Anya's media splooge the other day, an argument, texts back and forth during her two days off of work at Manual Woodworkers, several brief Facebook checks, a brief conversation between me and Kenny, and me and dad, accidentally leaving the phone connected to the game store, service texts, and one final text from me to Anya, service is gone. Kenny can't pay the Xbox internet fee, so I can't use it to talk to her either. We've watched all of our movies. All of my books are missing. I have nothing to do. I can't even sing, because this house literally makes me sick with cat dander, dust, must, rust, mold, mildew, waste, and probably several other things that I don't even know about. I have a massive creative block, so I still can't write anything other than these journals. Anya texted me back, but I can't read it. It fucken sucks. The only word I can see, is "fucken," which might say, "fucken shit"; "fucken a"; or a number of other exclamations. Honestly, with the way shit has been lately, I wouldn't be surprised if it said, "fucken liar." If that's the case, I'm in for an even longer night than I began with. I need a job. I need eight-ten hours away from the world I'm currently living in. I need order admist the chaos that our lives have become. I need to add purpose back to my life. I need to get out of this house, before I become too sick to cute with over-the-counter medication. I just... really, desperately, need to get my life back in order. I'm gonna watch "The Secret" again to see if I can't gain some hopeful motivation.

I'm currently listening to My Chemical Romance, cleaning while I'm rocking, trying my best to have fun and actually succeeding for once. I'm just happy to have a roof over my head, a girlfriend who loves me enough to persever life with me, and awesome, epic, music to soothe my soul. I'm so glad to finally be smiling without a worry on my own. It's good to find happiness independently. I'm passing time until my beautiful Anya returns. I'm so glad that she has this modeling job. It's helped us so much these past eight months. Our nine month "anniversary" is only five days away. That's three-fourths of a year and, even through the pain, it has been the absolute best year of my life. I look forward to countless more. I'm going to get a job soon. No doubt. I just feel that we're going to be rewarded for our patience and perseverance very soon, and when we are, I'm going to personally make sure we take full advantage of it. I believe that these trials have had a profound effect on our lives. They may have broken us down, but I think that once you've lived with the raw, true, and darkest part of a person soul, it creates a bond that wil last for eternity. We needed to feel hurt and disconnected so that we could truly appreciate what we have with eachother and cherish that so that we may protect it with every fiber of our being. It may be dormant and clouded by fear and doubt in Anya's mind right now, but she's a very internal person when it comes to positive emotions about the present, so it might take some drastic external, circumstancial, changes for her to feel it like I do, but that's okay, because I truly believe and have faith that this day will come sooner than we expect.

The binding in this thing is barely holding together, due to the pages that have been ripped out of it. This pen is barely writing due to the shortness of ink. My sanity is barely in tact due to paranoia and lack of trust. For the second time in my life, I'm having trouble distinguishing between thought and reality, past and present, lies and truth. For the first time, I understand the impact of lies, deceit, and secrets, on those around a person. I want so badly to trust Anya, but like me, she has two sides. I mentioned this before, in a way she misunderstood in my journals. Those are gone now. Hopelessness has become me. I can't believe anything. I can't believe that things are, will be, or ever have been okay. For all I know, what I'm experiencing isn't even real, just a delusion. Hell, maybe I never left the hospital; or maybe, when I tried to commit myself in October, I succeeded; or maybe, this is reality and I can't cope with not knowing what to believe, because I can't be certain of everything, like I used to. I have no life now, no existence. I have no job, no home, no friends or family, and no means of acquiring my goals. The harder I work to reach my goals, the further out of reach they become. The harder I work to fix this relationship, the more broken it becomes. Arson and "Tamara" have ruined everything. Alex and "Anya" are powerless against them. I thought I'd gotten rid of Arson three years ago, and Anya isn't even aware of her "other half." He's my only means to cope with life right now, so I don't know how to get rid of him again, and Anya seems to need her other half as well. No matter how hard I try to explain everything to Anya, her "other half" makes her deny it all. No matter how much I already understand it, I can't stop it. We are prisoners of our own minds, and our "other halves" are working together to keep us there. I'm scared that they will soon take full control. They are close, considering several incidents we've already encountered. I fear it will always be this way- that it will never change. We're a step away from repeating history and killing each other and/or ourselves. The only question, if it is this way, is how long we must continue to suffer before this happens. I know we can change it if only we could regain control. There does exist a fair measure of free will in a system of predestination. I fucking know this to be true. If only I could get her to understand, give her some sort of proof. But, how can you prove that you have control over fate? For, when you stop things from happening, they've never happened, and when you claim you knew something would happen, everyone knows, because it's already happened. Like so many students before her, she refuses to be enlightened, and therefore cannot accept the truth that is presented to her. Even Lee, who truly understood what was being taught to him, could not be enlightened in the end, because society had its way with him. How do you fill a cup that is already full and refuses to be emptied? Stubborness can be both a virtue and a vice, it would seem. Not even I can empty myself of the past, at least not where Anya is concerned. I can neither forget, nor move on, from the sins we have committed against each other. I've been trying, and I will continue to try, but Arson and "Tamara" are warring against "Anya" and me every step of the way.

Jasper kicked us out. We lived with Anthony, Nick, and Izzy, for the rest of January. A few arguments were had, the worst one being when I found out she had unblocked DJ. We filled out several job applications, but in the end, Anthony stabbed us in the back by conspiring with Izzy to have us kicked out. We stayed with her highschool friends, Shane and Squeaky, for a night and got trashed, then moved in with her friend Kenny, about ten miles from where all the businesses are. After all we've done to climb up out of this hole we're in, in the end, we always get knocked back down, deeper than we were previously. Hopeless, frustrated, anxious, and depressed, I sit here alone as Anya goes to some unknown hotel with some unkown guy for the second hundreth time. Yes, I'm so fucking sick of it, but there's noting I can do about it, so I sit and wait, for an unknown amount of time, for her return.

Anya came for Christmas. It started out fine, but I'm pretty sure it was because we were both intoxicated for the first few days. Then, once again, I caught her flirting with DJ. I tried talking to her about it without any success. Tonight, I once again snapped. We were walking towards Sonic and filling out applications, and it dawned on me that I was putting myself through hell for a cheating whore, which is completely stupid, so I walked back to Jasper's. We talked it out and I realized that DJ is just simply a better boyfriend than me, so I decided to just let it go and let her make her own decisions. Thing is that DJ beat me to the punch and gave up on her. I'm not sure whether or not that's the truth, from all the lies she's told me, but even if it is, she's willing to let me go before she would ever let go of DJ, which once again proves the point that DJ is better than me, and she just doesn't want to feel bad by breaking up with me. Futhermore, she tried repeatedly to break up with me and I wouldn't let go. So, now I've let go. If she wants to leave me, I understand and respect her decision. I'm also considering breaking up with her and giving her a chance to explore other options. I guess the best thing to do is to talk it over with her and letting her decide.

She tried to break up with me three more times before finally accepting that I want to be with her regardless of the pain and heartache. She even went on about temporarily breaking up. I've spent the last six days talking her out of this shit. Her mom offered for her to live there until she can get a car and a place, so whether or not she moves in depends on if her mom will extend the offer. Jasper is being a dick about letting me use his computer to fill out applications, and he won't get off of his game long enough to fix the WiFi, so I'm stuck without a way to get a job or talk to Anya, although he did let me call her twice today. Tomorrow, I'll be going out past Food Lion to get more paper applications and write down the companies that I need to go online for. Even if Anya's mom doesn't extend the offer, she'll still be coming for a few days to fill out applications here. Whichever place has a job for her first will be where she stays. I'm still unnerved about her cheating on me with DJ, but there are bigger things to worry about right now, I suppose. I can't seem to put down a cigarette for more than an hour without going crazy. There's nothing to do now, but wait and and do whatever I can to get a job. I can barely write these words on paper with all the shit in my head right now. It's so cold in this room that the Hershey's Kisses have frozen.

Anya came and went. She threatened- no TRIED- to break up with me twice before finally confessing that she's involved with DJ, once even sexually, and that she doesn't want to hurt me anymore. Naturally, I am heartbroken and depressed, but I lover her and I know that we're meant to be together, regardless of the mistakes we make and how terrible those mistakes may be. She'll be moving in with me for a month to see if things can progress financially and emotionally. After this month, she'll be deciding whether to stay with me or to be with DJ. I have to say that I have never felt so betrayed in my short nineteen years of life. No one has ever wronged me so brutally and carelessly, but I still love her, and I may be insane for staying with her, but she's a part of me now, and I've given my whole life over to her. To end this relationship is to end whatever chance I had at lving the life of my dreams.

Well, wifi started working again, but now all the batteries are totally dead. Hopefully, Jasper gets his check and can get some more, because that little tease of talking to Anya again has made my depression and lonliness a hell of a lot worse. I need to sleep now, before it gets much colder.

The one day that Jasper actually goes to school, he not only logs out of his computer, but actually goes so far as turning it off. He knew I needed to use it and he knew that he wasn't going to use it, and the selfish prick just won't let me. I'm extremely pissed off right now. I slept into 3:30, because it's bad enough not having anything to do when there's actually someone here. Watching movies is getting old. Lack of contact with the outside world is becoming unbearable. I simply cannot live here any longer, but Jasper's not giving me much of a choice. There are only two options: continue to live here, wasting my life away with movie re-runs, or leave. I suppose the only thing I can do is wait for a warmer day and start walking, then do everything I can to persuade my dad to let me move back in until such time that I can get back on my feet.

Not much to report today, I'm afraid. I left a note on Jasper's computer keyboard last night, explaining that I really needed to use the computer to explore other living arrangements. He just shrugged it off, however, and proceeded to play his games all day. I wrote another song last night, as well, and practiced vocals this morning. I then considered writing again, but decided to read for a while, instead. Afterwards, and since then actually, I've been watching Harry Potter. This is my third day without seeing or talking to Anya- the longest duration thus far. I'm not quite sure how I've gone this long without becoming completely mental. Nor do I know how I can go much longer. I suppose, when it comes down to it, I really don't have much of a choice, except doing everything I can to cope and pass the time.

Well, I didn't end up writing or editing anything last night. Jasper woke me up at two in the morning to help him clean up cat shit. His cat, Oreo, decided to have a fit and peed and shit all over the placce. Even with half a can of Glade, the smell is still overwhelming. Feeling both sick and depressed, I slept the entire day away. Even now, I feel too shitty to write, but I've slept too long to continue sleeping, and there is nothing else to do. I'm struggling to cope. The physical symptoms are weighing me down with lethargy, dizziness, fatigue, muscle aches, joint aches, nausea, and a slight headache. As far as emotions go, I'm just suffering from the typical bout of clynical depression. Oh, and I can also add eye irritation, scratchy throat, and congestion to the physical symptoms. All in all, I just feel like shit. I promised Anya, before she left, that I wouldn't do anything stupid, but if this keeps up, there's no telling what will make me snap. I don't know what I'm going to do. I was correct yesterday, when I said that it's like being in the hospital again. In fact, it's a whole lot worse. With no internet, neither Anya nor I can fill out job applications. I have no transportation for a job and no way for one to call me to set up an interview. I have no choice other than considering an alternative living situation. I have three possible options: Baylee, Anthony, or my father. Tomorrow, I'll have to convince Jasper to let me use his computer to consider these and search for others. On top of everything else, it's raining and it's a full moon.

Well, once again, Anya is gone. She stayed for ten days again. We mostly just watched Netflix and YouTube. The wifi is out, so I'm left to my thoughts with no source of entertainment or communication with the outside world. It's like being in the hospital again, except I'm permanently confined to my room without breaks. I have only pen and paper. This would be a good thing if I wasn't stricken with writer's block. There is so much I have to start, edit, or finish, but with no inspiration to speak of, I'm still bount to blank worthless pages. Anya did leave me with six packs of cigarettes, so I can at the very least, cope with cabin fever to some extent. THis is why all the great artists were drunks and drug users: to be able to cope with solitude and frustration, while simultaneously tapping into the various worlds conceived by their imaginations. All of my best work came from silence, solitude, and psychiactric sedation. At the moment, I only have two of those, which is more than I've had in a while, but my mind is much too unsettled. Art comes not from emotion, but rather the reflection of emotion, such as information might be the reflection of logic. No, this is incorrect. Experience fuels both emotion and logic, while both art and decisive action are reflected respectively It is where the reflections change suitors that mistakes and madness are born. For instance, right now, I am logically hungry, but the decisive action where hunger is concerned is the reflection of emotion rather than logic, and so I'm making the mistake of not eating, which will hinder me both mentally and physically, resulting in madness, illness, and even death, should I continue this pattern. Alas, even my silence is not complete. Every now and then, an exclamation or obnoxious laugh from Jasper as he plays on his computer interupts my oblivion. I would kill for some ear plugs right now. I wish I could write. I think I may just edit some things to get back in shape.