10/06: Silence

Those two people had to be fakers, right? I didn’t kill my poochies, I didn’t do something where now Ery and Az and some demon are all fused into one body, and I didn’t cause another disaster. It just can’t be true, okay? I mean, I’ve made oopsies--but this oopsie seems like one that’d really ... like I don’t think I’d even do it if I was drunk. There’s something that needs to be clear here, I care about Ery, a lot. I made promises to him I told him I was going to keep and I’ve kept them since then; sacrificing him to a demon was definitely something I would have promised to not do. At all.

Now that I’m not in fighting for my life mode, and have a moment to just chill, nothing is making sense to me. I still don’t appreciate that that girl--I’m not calling her Portie because she just can’t be her--woke me up like that and that guy made that itching inside me worse, too.

Right, I should update. Well, I didn’t stay at the port shop; I was going to find my own shelter but every time I tried to explore beyond Nevivon something kept giving me the heebie-jeebies. Like, if I were to actually not go to the place those fakers told me about, somehow I’d end up worse than I was. So, now I’m at the run-down place that looks like the old home Portie and Jules spoke of way back.

You know, the more I keep saying their names the more I wonder if I’m referring to the real ones or the fake ones? Well, no, the fake ones are fake, right? I mean, they’re just messing with me. Just, forget that I even brought it up again. Also, everywhere I go is nothing but a heebie-jeebie fest. I mean, I just naturally draw attention but the things I’ve seen lurking around this town aren’t things I want getting near me--ugh, they’re also all bugs too.

Okay, well, they’re all like they look like bugs--I think the only things that haven’t looked like bugs were the faker people and the faker poochies. So clearly it’s something messing with me, even if’s making me all itchy and my skin’s not looking great because of it. Or maybe it’s because fake Jules made it worse--bah, what difference does it even make at this point.

I miss Ery, the real Ery I mean. I miss him being here by my side to help me out, or to even talk to me. He’d always know what to do in a situation like this, and I just think better with him around. I’ve gone solo before, and it’s not like I can’t, but ... it just hurts now. He’d probably be very calm about this and find a way to help us survive with all the magic stuff he knows that I don’t.

The more I sit here just trying to write the more scattered everything gets; every time I just think about something, it just gets hard to do it. I feel alone, and I feel like I’m talking to no one. I almost didn’t write today, because I didn’t really think I should--what if writing meant those fakers had gotten inside my head? Maybe they already are...

The one time I shouldn’t focus on something, I keep feeling tempted to focus on it. But it can’t mean anything because none of it is true--they said so, they said I’m not the Lucio they were looking for so that means it’s not true ... right?

You know, also, I just realized everyone else is needing food and all that but me? I think that’s one neat thing about magical places is that sometimes you don’t need things like food, water, or a shower--especially if you’re a ghost. Well, I do enjoy being able to shower with Ery now, but still it’s pretty nice especially if you’re in a place with starving ... nevermind.

Talking to “someone” who doesn’t reply back is really hard. I mean, I never really liked silence much because all it reminded me of was bad things--well not all bad, but mostly bad. Whether it was Mama letting me go or Ery, uh, having to get onto me for something. Should I even be writing, really?

No one’s going to read it, and no one’s going to answer me back, so why write? I could just drop off and nothing would happen ... no one would care. Maybe I’m even talking too much in here, but then again the silence of not writing just seems worse for me.

Problem is, I don’t really have much to say about anything because the fakers are being fakers and messing with me and well this whole place makes what I saw when The Devil came back for me look like a pony ride at a fair. That, and the itchiness gets really, really bad at night. Well, it’s not even “itchy” anymore, it really has just become like something eating me away from the inside somehow and crawling. Ugh, the crawling is the worst...

I mean, I guess there’s the creatures? It’s nice that at least I can slay them and not have to worry about them looking like people I know or are close to my heart. They still don’t seem natural though, still acting all stilted like they’re trying to act like a bird, rat, whatever even though they’re not. They also ... don’t die, like Por--the faker girl--said; I tried stabbing one of them and it just kept reforming like some kind of magic clay except gross and smelly.

Reminds me, maybe I have some trinkets from Ery in my pocket? Maybe those came with me before I ended up in this place; it’d be nice to have a fragment of him with me -- he’s always made these sage-branch thingies that smell nice and apparently are meant as some magical charm. He’d always be giving it to people--especially me though, because he loves me and I sometimes do things I shouldn’t. Okay fine, a lot of times I do things I shouldn’t. I’ll go check later tonight if there’s anything in my pockets he gave me to just hold onto when the night passes over.

...Did I take everything for granted? I mean, what did I even do before all of this? It’s honestly hard to have a conversation like this, and I haven’t done this since I was like in my teen years back in the Scourgelands. But, really, did I take Ery for granted? I know yesterday I’d forgotten to tell Ery I loved him before he went off to do readings at the shop, and I maybe forgot to hang the clothes for him ... is that what this was all about? Was it just a lesson for me to not brush aside the moments I have with him?

I don’t always forget to though, I always tell him things like that every other day, and, for once, Az didn’t give me the stink-eye when I did that time. So that means I haven’t been doing that to him, but then that thing--this is why I hate silences. I hate it because it makes it harder for me to just ignore everyone. I just want to stop thinking about this and have a moment of just ... not facing this. I don’t want to think about any of this but I can’t because I’m all alone and I don’t have anyone to ... I’m going to call it a night.

The crawling’s started and it’s going down to my ... you know. No promises, notebook, can’t say if I’ll write tomorrow or not--maybe I just need a moment. I don’t know, what I do know is that I’m tired.

...Okay, well, maybe I can’t just end it there. Ery, if you ever see this, I ... I’ll be alright, okay? I’ll be alright. I haven’t given up and I’m gonna find a way--just like I always have. It’s just been hard, it’s been rough, and things are really confusing for me. Just wait for me, okay? I’ll make up for the lost time, and I imagined you nodding your head and saying, “Xæ,” like you always would. Just wait a bit, tiger ... I’ll be there.