Risk

I feel the need to try something out, despite how hazardous, disrespectful and utterly stupid it may seem.

There's going to be a big Halloween party going on in the neighbourhood I'm currently in and I'm pretty sure I could get in. I intend to go, you probably guessed it by now, as tall-pale-and-faceless.

The point is, see if he appears to me, and whether his behavioral pattern changes - I sincerely don't believe this will protect me in any way, but he MAY see it as a form of defiance or, inversely, a form of submission. You never know. And besides, it's a party, you know, fun, music, girls. If he doesn't appear it'll be swell. If he does, it might be an occasion to learn. Surprisingly it's win-win.

Also, I wanna say something more about risky behaviour when it comes to me and mister happy - whenever I act defiantly he seems taken aback (or it may just be that jerky way he moves, but I'd rather be optimistic), that is, whenever I decide to run past him instead of away from him, or whenever I try to stare him down. It never accomplishes anything practical and it certainly doesn't stop him, but I'll take whatever little mental victories I can get.

Also, the moral for today is:
Banana juice is the greatest!

Signing out,
Pete

Powerless

I had, just now, an epiphany about how powerless I really am against the faceless abomination that stalks me.

All I can do is run. Sure, I sometimes find refuge in defiance, running towards and past him, like I did not care, but that's just buying time.

I run, I extend the time of my life, I survive. But there is no meaning. I cannot fight back, hell, I can't help anyone.
I can't even give a useful piece of advice or think up the right thing to say in a tense situation.

I realized this, I realized hard, when seeing how things are going in-between Jack and Stephanie, and Sandra, Lya and Matt. A few simple words would have made a world of difference, but I did not send them.
Why?
Fear of responsibility, I guess. Or just plain fear. I don't know really, and I should seriously have done something.

I sometimes wish that there was something I could do except running.

Signing out,
Pete

Sleep notes

The notes were the beginning.

Over a month ago, you see, I started finding post-it notes stuck to my monitor. Notes with URLs to several blogs, most prominently M's "Tutorial".
Then I got the login details for "yousurvivehim@gmail.com", wich belongs to "K-OS Survival", who posted some rather outrageous claims on the "Tutorial" via such a note.
Also, a lot of messages like "Help them!" or "Run and survive". I thought they were bullshit and any sane man should disregard them as a prank on behalf of his friends, right?
One problem: the notes would always appear when I was sleeping, even napping, so either I had a stalker with perfect stealth skills, some kind of guardian angel, or I was writing the notes myself somehow. Neither of these possibilities sits well with me.
Then the creepy happennings started. No, I didn't start seeing a strange tall person in formal attire, that is, not by then. I did, howver, start finding dead birds on my doorstep. A sparrow, a pigeon, a crow. That, as I put it back then, was some fucked up shit.
Then I received the last note before encountering the faceless. It read: "You don't exist. Ask the landlady. Please forgive me. -K-OS". So I casually chatted up the landlady and, well, I found I never had a roommate. My parents were apparently covering the rent, but I couldn't then and I can't now, no matter how hard I try, remember their names.
Then, when I went to my school I found that it wasn't there. The note started sinking in. I turned to go back to the apartment. I saw Him, standing across the street, just staring.
I ran back home.
I took whatever money and potentially useful things I could take and I ran like fuck.

I still get the notes, usually as an early warning, and I grew to trust them. May be a mistake, but they've saved my skin a few times when the threat was, well, more natural. ("The owners of this house are coming back tomorrow morning, you might want to skeddadle" that sort)

Today I got a note saying: "It'smyfaultit'smyfaultit'smyfault" over and over in really big letters (for a post-it note, anyway) and "He couldn't digest. Help Sandra."

The only Sandra I know of is the one in H(a)unting and she seems to have disappeared according to Matt.

Great. I'd love to help, but I'm not a Hero, just a runner.

Signing out, Pete

Wow, a Blog, how I hate that word.

My name is Peter Biggs. Pete to anyone who cares.

For a couple of weeks I've been avoiding any unnecessary use of the internet, hoping it would help my "problem" and while it did keep it at bay for a while it is not a perfect deterrent, so I turn to those who might be able to help me. Or so I'm told they can.

Those people, as indicated by an unseen person who got me into this mess, are called: "M", and "The Three Sages" consisting of Robert, Jay and Shaun. Are you guys out there?

Also, despite the title, I don't think I'm going to make many references to Kingdom Hearts within this blog, as it's supposed to illustrate part of my problem.
All I remember of my life seems, by all outside accounts, fake.
My roommate? Apparently I never had any and my folks are covering all of the rent.
My school? No such building.
A couple more of such indicators coupled with the problem that I share with some of you, well, I started to run.

One thing I never noticed before: free internet is abundant.

Well, gotta fly, as it seems I might get another fit of my sickness in a short while.

Signing out.