Wednesday, August 25, 2010

I'm so fucking sick of this. I'm sick of people dying. I'm sick of madness. I'm sick of all this stupid, insane shit. Fuck this. Fuck it. Fuck him. This ends. I don't care if I have to club him to death with that dumbass horse bone or whatever the hell it is. I can't take it anymore. Next time he shows up, I'm just... going to do something. I don't know what yet, but something...

I woke up today to my telephone ringing off the hook. The staff at the mental institution where my mother has been held for the past decade or so were trying to get in touch because my mother died this morning. From a heart attack that they believe was caused by the stress of her mental condition growing worse.

She'd spent the previous day screaming constantly about being menaced by a man in black with no face. Pretty fucking clear where he's been now.

I'm honestly not entirely sure how I feel about mother dying. Despite all she did, she was still mom. She still loved me. She still raised me and took care of me. And yet, I hate her. I hate what her and my father did. I hate what they brought into my life. I don't want to be so brash as to say it's a good thing she's dead, but I haven't cried a tear.

I ended up driving out to the institution to take care of things: fill out paperwork, see the body, collect her belongings. That's when I noticed something they hadn't. There were burn marks on random possessions. A book, Milton's Paradise Lost, had an entire corner burnt away. A quarter of the book, just gone in an impossibly controlled manner. The bottom of a pillowcase was... singed, I guess. No real signs of burning, just turned brown.

What disturbed me the most was what fell out when I picked it up. Apparently, my mother still had an old family photo. I almost instantly recognized it from what was left of it. I remember seeing a copy when I searched my personal belongings weeks ago. The original was of a small family get together: myself, my parents, my grandparents, and Uncle Eddie. My mother's copy, safely tucked in her nearly untouched pillow, had been all but reduced to ash. All that was left, was a small piece. It contained only myself, five years old, smiling. Blissfully unaware of what I'd be going through fourteen years later...

I really hope he shows up tonight. I really fucking do.

18 comments:

  1. Gaather your strenght.
    We all are with you, as much as we are able to.
    You can yet teach him fear.
    I believe in you.
    WE believe in you.

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  2. He knows us. All of us, he's watching us.
    End this bastard or we're all fucked.

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  3. I don't think you're ready to fight Mr. Happy yet. With your state of mind right now I simply don't think it's wise at all. You should do... something. Live it up. Enjoy yourself for one day. Show the fucker that you're better then it and that it can't... no, that you won't -let it- get under your skin.

    I doubt you'll listen to this though. Even though my biggest piece of advice is "Attack when Mr. Happy means nothing to you" chances are you can't/won't do that.

    So.

    When you fight him do not blink. Do not look away. Bash into him until there is nothing left. Even if you lose an arm or a leg. -Do not stop-. From what we know he never seems to teleport away when he's being watched. Take advantage of that.

    Also. Do this yourself. Don't let TheArsonist take over and handle your problems. We're all here for you, and your friends are depending -on you-. No one else.

    Rah Rah Fight The Powah!

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    Replies
    1. I'm sorry, I know this is over two years later, but... "... do not blink. Do not look away." What, is Slendy a Weeping Angel now?

      (Sorry, when I get spooked, I try to relieve the tension with humor. And at a few past midnight, I'm pretty spooked.)

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    2. Bit late reply here, just thought I should point out that while that skinny bastard isn't a weeping angel, but while you can blink, you really shouldn't look away. This is standard operating procedure from back in the days when M's Tutorial was the only way to work. He wasn't right about everything, but... When the Faceless Asshole is being observed, it doesn't seem to be able to teleport.

      Chances of you seeing this are slim and none, but whatever, though I'd clarify anyhow.

      PS: People who use Gurren Lagann as a blueprint for dealing with the Slender Man end up dead. It's happened before. Don't just Row Row Fight Tha Powah when the Powah is the Slender Man. You're gonna have a bad time.

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  4. Well, like everyone else is saying...go kick his ass, mate!

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  5. Well, it's the 26th where I am, if only by an hour. Let's assume no news is good news.

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  6. Like I said, Damien, rip out that fecker's skull and beat him to death with it. Make his first recorded words "This shouldn't be physically possible!"

    All right, Red vs Blue references aside, I'm thinking about you and, for what it's worth, I've got you in my prayers. Do what you need to do, Damien, and go in with as calm a mind as you can muster. At the same time, do not go gentle into that good night. Stay alive. Keep living. As long as you do, it's a sign that he can't win.
    ~The Quick

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  7. Damien? We all hope you're okay and still with us. Please be okay.

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  8. Pardon me for being brash, but on behalf of everyone involved? Fuck his shit up man.

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  9. Sorry bour my rush. But im just so happy that someone is going to fight. My suggestion..... Burn him, and keep your eyes on him. if you keep your eyes on him, he wont teleport. and if you burn him and he cant teleport, youll watch him turn to ashes.

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  10. Yeah, JABgamer, and if THIS fails, he should try wearing an armor set with more shadow resistence. Or spam Moonfire. Or try kiting him around the house.

    Ridiculous. I can't take it anymore.

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  11. Well what i mean by teleport.... I mesn how he reapears and disapears.

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  12. Actually, Anon, kiting could be a viable strategy if he puts up cheetah feet...

    All jesting aside, keeping your eyes locked on this thing seems like a sound strategy. However, is fighting really the best strategy at this point?

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  13. I read your Twitters, Damien. I hope that last one doesn't mean you got attacked. I guess TheArsonist taking over would be preferable to that, though I do wish he'd give more warning, if only for your sake. Stay safe, my friend, and keep a tight hold of that bone!
    ~The Quick

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