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Phew! That was the last of the things that I've piled up.

As you may guess it, I have moved out of the house.

I gotten the hell outta dodge and I will never turn back.

I've gotten all the things that I needed, left a not-so-farewell note behind for Momma, picked up Bushy to bring along with me and just left in the middle of the night.

Well, I gotta have some form of company now, don't I? Bushy pretty much fits the bill.

It wasn't easy to pack the printer, laptop and my clothes in one suitcase, but somehow I managed. Surprisingly.

Guess where I am now?

Bet you can't.

Give up?

I'm at Jan's place.

Yes, that's right, I got the hell outta dodge and moved in to Jan's place.

Or to be more specific, his attic.

Only Jan and I know about this place. Not even his clueless rents know about this attic because it just so happen to be above Jan's room through a trapdoor on his ceiling directly above his bed, and he wasn't about to share this secret place with his rents or anything. I'm the only person he had ever told about this place.

We even had sex in here.

Those were good times.

Definitely the perfect place to not rouse any suspicion.

The electricity and water may be a bit of a problem (though it's still running for the moment), as well as food or whatever, but I'll get my way around it.

Come on, what better way to investigate this phenomena and research on my Slendy-shit than from the source, right?

OK, I admit, it gives me the creeps a little being here, seeing that both Jan and his rents totally hit rock bottom six feet under here, but it was the best place to hide out from Momma and beat the rental and traveling expenses.

It's not like I have anywhere else to go, or wanna go anywhere outta town anyhow.

I'm sure Jan wouldn't mind, and would've wanted me to crash in his place if I ever get outta my own home.

Besides, there may be clues in this house here that might give me a hint as to what all this Slendy-shit is about. Especially Jan's room, where it all began.

Which reminds me, I better grab whatever stuff that is around in Jan's room before they decide to clean up the place. Those crime scene cleaners can really do a number on a dead house and I don't want to lose any precious evidence or clues as to why Jan died.

From what I heard from word of mouth, the boys in blue have already finished processing the place, taking whatever they needed to investigate on Jan and his rents before deciding the verdict of Jan being a psycho and having a meltdown and did a murder-suicide fiasco.

Jan is not a psycho, though he did have a meltdown, and that murder-suicide fiasco had everything to do with whatever he was obsessively researching about.

I'm gonna find out and put an end to it.

I'm printing out all my research from scratch again.

Thank God for internet bookmarks.

I had an argument with Momma today.

Why, you ask? What did she do this time, you ask?

She totaled my research that's why!

2, 3 weeks of research down the toilet because she decided to go bonkers and tore up all my folders and whatever I had in them and threw them into the fireplace.

I fucking told her not to ever, EVER, enter my room without my permission! I even forced her to sign an agreement on this! And what does she do? I turn my back for one moment to go out and buy myself some take-out for lunch and come back to see her ransacking my room, walking back and forth from my room to the fireplace and tearing up my folders and my research and pictures while sobbing like a fucking scorned 3-year-old. Fucking breach of contract, that's what!

She was absolutely hysterical, screaming and crying like I just gave her a whoop in the ass or something (not that I'm not tempted to) and told me I shouldn't dabble into things that I have no understanding of. I tried to stop her from tearing up anymore of my hard work and she frickin' freaked out and pushed me away like I was some kind of disease.

I told her whatever I research is my own business and none of hers, and I just wanted to find the meaning behind Jan's death, but she wouldn't listen. She screamed back at me to tell me to leave it alone and that Jan's death was just an unfortunate incident of a depressed child. I asked her how would she know whether Jan's depressed or not and she just clammed up and threw the last of my stuff into the fire.

Fucking bitch! What the hell, man?? What the FUCK is her problem??

Fuck, that's it! That's IT!

I'm getting the hell outta dodge.

Sorry for not logging in on updates or anything. Been researching things like crazy, and something happened that made me gone into withdrawal for a while.

Janphen's funeral was on the way last week. I was expected to attend, but I didn't. I couldn't face the fact that it could've been my fault that he was dead. That I didn't see the signs and allowed it to happen. I just stayed outside the church where the funeral services was done, hearing the preacher droning on and on about blessings and life after death and whatnot (I'm not a sucker for religion, really), and people delivering eulogies for him.

Some of them were bullshit though, just a farce, because I've known Jan long enough to know that some of the things they said are totally not what I know about Jan.

Or maybe it really is something I didn't know about Jan, the other side of him. He did, after all, became my friend not entirely by choice.


I remember his words that day I visited him.

Maybe...Maybe I am...I dunno...Maybe I'm just sick of all this...

What was he sick of? Life in general? Me?

Do you KNOW where your dad is? Do you know WHO your dad is? Do you even KNOW WHAT he is? Do you??? DO YOU???!!!

Those were his last words.

His last final words of desperation.

Desperate for me to hear, to understand.

And what did I do? I ditched him, and left him for dead.

I didn't even have the courage to go up to the funeral procession where they carried his and his rents' body to the cemetery to be buried. I just stood somewhere far away and hid behind a couple of trees, watching from my spot as they lowered him six feet under.

When the funeral ended and Jan's relatives who handled the funeral caught sight of me, I got the hell outta dodge.

I'm not gonna stand there and wait for them to scream at my face and rubbing it in that it was all my fault.

I've had enough wallowing in self-pity and beating myself up the past few weeks to know it.

Anywho, I've decided to make print-outs of everything that I have studied about this Slender-freak (including the pictures) and keep them in folders for references later. Heh, the last time I did this was for an assignment at school. Didn't think I'd actually be that hardworking for this shit.

I dunno, maybe making print-outs and studying them helps me cope with the loss, that by studying them, I will know what hit Jan so hard to drive him to this madness, and subsequently be close to him.

I actually showed Momma some of the freaky drawings of the Slender-shit and she totally freaked out, telling me to burn that garbage and ran to her room crying hysterically.

Wonder what was that about?

Sorry for the late entry here, but I've been going through some really weird shit trying to investigate this odd Slenderman guy, and boy, do I have a freaky result up in hand.

OK, so after I searched through the web about Slenderman, this is pretty much what I got:
The Slender Man is a mythical creature completely created on the Internet which has grown beyond its Internet Urban Legend status to become the target of pictures, fictional stories and videos about "him".

He's often depicted as a tall and thin silhouette, wearing black pants, a black suit with a white shirt, and a black necktie underneath. What is startling and creepy about this creature is that he is usually depicted with absolutely no visible face. Furthermore, he can stretch out or shortens his arms as well as he hides some kind of tentacles on his back.

So basically some dude named Victor Surge got bored, decided to start up some fucking shit, goes to this forum website called Something Awful and joined a "Create Paranormal Images" contest or something, made up this stupid Slenderman and posted it in the contest, and now shit just comes up and everyone starts thinking he's real??

How dense can they be?

Come on, they even did an interview to that sucker and he admitted to all those fake photos. But I see some weird shit comments about people saying that it's real and that this sucker had first account of the monster, which he tries to bring it to the public's attention of its existence.

People. They can be really dense sometimes.

I mean, look at these pics.

Fake shit.

Come on, copy-paste and blurring much?

OK, this is obvious fake. I mean, Doc Oc much?

The kicker on this last photo is that it includes a so-called "news report" of the kid gone missing a few days after this picture was taken, which is, of course, total fake. And that Victor bugger admits it too.

How could Jan fall for these? What exactly is behind these photos that he thinks it's so goddamn real? Even a retard can tell it's fake.

Though I gotta admit, even though it's kinda creeps me out a little...


I decided to type Slenderman in the image search engine to see how he looks like in other people's eyes, and boy, do I get a LOT of weird shit.

To know about this motherfucker is something, but to actually draw and illustrate him into this sort of sucker?

This is fucked up


More weird-ass picture art of Slenderman.

Attempts to anthromorphize this motherfucker is really just so whacked.

What is it that people see in this guy that they have this morbid fascination for even though they know he's fake?

What does Jan see in this monster?

And what does it have to do with what he's talking about Pops?

I have done a bit of looking up on this weird symbol that I found. I've spent all day and all night searching through the net to see if there is anything that would explain what that symbol is, since I dunno the name and I could only type the word "weird symbol" on the Search engine and sieve through a gajillion pictures to find the one I was looking for.

Thank God I've got the patience to the point of inhuman when it comes to doing things that I really set my mind to it.

Apparently, this symbol is called The Operator Symbol. Something that has to do with some sort of internet cult known as the "Slenderman Phenomena". Says in this website that The Operator Symbol can either be considered a sign for protection against this motherfucker or some sort of compulsion the victims of Slenderman tend to have after their encounter with that mo-fo.

Is that it? Jan got involved in some Slender-watchamacallit shit and ended up becoming something out of the Twilight Zone? How dense can he get? I thought he's all about NOT getting into this sort of shit! I thought he didn't believe in all this kind of crap.

What the hell...?

I'm gonna research on this some more. Maybe try to make sense of all of this shit.


Momma is knocking at my door again.

I tell her to go away and leave me alone.

Fuck, can't I even mourn for my best friend in peace?

I heard that some of Jan's relatives from another town are going to come down to proceed with the funeral services, that is, after the boys in blue are done autopsying him and his rents and reporting it to whoever was in charge of handling Jan's case.

The boys in blue came yesterday to question me again, and I just told them what I knew, what I saw and what Jan and I have been through for the past few days before he started acting like shit to me.

They asked me if I knew he had any troubles or was depressed or was on medication. I told them I knew none of the sort. I told them he was perfectly fine, and we even had sex after we went to watch some R-rated movies. Momma didn't look surprised that I told them I lost my virginity to Jan. She had expected we were a couple.

It's not like that. It's just casual sex. We're friends. Best friends who have sex with each other.

That's it.

The blue boys looked at me like my relationship was the most complicated ever when I said that.

What the fuck is so complicated about us being just friends and still have sex?


Anyway they did ask me about whether I know what the symbols that he drew around his room meant, and again, I told them I knew nothing. Not sure whether they believed me or not but they didn't seem to ask me anymore.

If I'm not mistaken, once the blue boys were done with Jan, the funeral would commence sometime 2 weeks later

Damn, after what I saw, I don't think I would want to attend the funeral.

They might just pin the blame on me, since I was the closest to him, like as if I SHOULD have seen this coming and prevented it.

In a way, it would've been right.

I was his best friend. He was my only friend. We were together thick and thin since, like, ever. I should have seen this coming.

But I didn't.

Because I couldn't.

And whatever that symbol is and whatever he said about Pops, gotta have to be something to do with his death.

I'm gonna fucking find out about this.

And kill that bastard.

God, I can't believe...I can't believe this is happening.

Jan...Jan is dead...

I guess I should start from the top.

God, my hands are shaking just typing this damn post.

The day before I made that last post, I decided to put my foot down and investigate once and for all what the hell was going on with Janphen and his little recluse phase. I decided to go forth after giving Bushy his nightly feedings.

As I walked down to his home, so many questions were spinning in my mind.

What happened to us? What happened to him? Why is he behaving this way? What could possibly have caused such a drastic change in him? What did he mean by me knowing where, who or WHAT Pops is? Does he know something about Pops that I don't?

And where the hell are his parents? They should at least be around worrying about their son being like a fuckin' hermit crab at home and call in the shrink or the exorcist or whatever, not going MIA all of a sudden!

So there I was, in front of Jan's house and rang the doorbell and banged at the door for the umpteenth time. Thank goodness for neighbours who minded their own business, or I would've been seen creating scene at the time.

Though after what happened...I had wished they were a little nosy...

When I tried the door, it was surprisingly open this time, unlike the last few times when I find it locked. I entered and called out for Jan's parents.

No dice.

I called Jan's name.

No go either.

There was this really awful smell going about in the house. Like something just died and rot in a corner or whatever. I reached for the lights to turn it on so that I can see better.

I wish I wasn't right about what I thought it was, and I wish that I had not turned on the lights.

His folks were sitting at the dining table as if having a family supper, just without Janphen there. They seemed to be arranged like they were leaning back against their seat, their eyes rolled up to the back of their heads and their mouths agape into a frozen scream of horror.

They were gutted like fucking fish and the guts were arranged onto the dinner plates placed before them, part of it still linked into the cavity of where their innards were supposed to be. Blood was everywhere on the dining table and on their clothes. And I don't need to be a genius to see that the content in the wine glasses served on the table was not red wine.

I fought the urge to scream and run, or to puke my guts out because the thought of Janphen was on my mind. The first place I thought would be his room, so I made a run for it upstairs and banged at his door.

The door gave way, creaking open as if it hadn't been closed properly.

How I wish I had obeyed the urge to run.

I saw him, hanging on the ceiling by a power cord around his neck. He looked like he hadn't eaten or slept in days judging by the malnourished look on his face, and he was pale as hell. He wore the same clothes he was wearing when I came to visit him, and his room was littered with pieces of paper with just this symbol of a crossed-out circle.

It was all over the place, littered on the walls, on the floors, on the bed and drawn with some sort of white paint on his computer screen. He even had some of those blasted symbols stuck onto his body.

But that wasn't the freaky part.

He. Was. Smiling.

He was hanging by his neck on the ceiling and his eyes were rolled up his head like his rents were and he was fucking smiling!

Like he was fucking happy that he was dead!

I heard some sort of rustling sounds outside his window and that fucking broke me out of my trance. I quickly made a run for it out of the house and finally puked and hurled onto the grass outdoors. After puking out the last of the bile, I took out my cellphone and called the police.

It was a long process of questioning and writing report and whatnot, but it was finally over. I went home with Momma and she offered to make me something to drink to calm my nerves, but for once, I didn't shout at her to fuck off and mind her own business, but said "No, thanks" and went to my room. I wasn't in the mood and I had no appetite anyways.

Janphen...My best friend...

My ONLY friend...

Is dead...



Tell me this is all a dream...


Holy crap...


Jan is dead.

Jan is fucking dead.

I'm not kidding!


Jan is DEAD!!

Jan hasn't answered my calls.


He hasn't answered my texts either.


He's not even online.


He's not even answering his doorbell and his parents are just frickin' not there all the time.


What the fuck is wrong with you, bro?! You were fine all the way ever since I met you in junior high! Now all of a sudden you're like behaving like some sort of weirdo from the frickin' Twilight Zone or something!!

Why don't you answer my calls?? Reply my text?? Go online?? Get the fuck up and answer the door??


I did it.

I went to school and told the principal that I'm quitting.

I know, I said I was going to call them, but I think it would be better that I told him in person.

It's gonna make the experience so much better.

When I went to the principal's office, though it kinda reminds me of the last time I went in there for something I have done (particularly the one where Jan wasn't around), he was enjoying his lousy decaf coffee and eating Dunkin' Donuts like all fatass principal who enjoys to just laze around inside rather than getting involved outside where the student welfare actually mattered.

Principal: Ah, Ms. Anderson. I was about to call your home to ask of your whereabouts, since you have been absent from school more than the grace period time of absence

Me: Flowery words, Mr. P, but I'm here to tell you, I quit school

Principal: Oh? On what grounds?

Me: On the grounds that I don't like it and I don't really give a shit about schooling

Principal: Well, that is some strong opinion there, Ms Anderson, but I'm afraid I cannot allow you to do that

Me: On what grounds? (I was being sarcastic here)

Principal: On the grounds that you are underage and you are in no position to refuse education

Me: Fuck that! You just want my money. Is that it? You want to keep me here so that I can keep paying you bloody school fees and money you do not deserve?

Principal: Now, let's not jump off that far. I never said that

Me: But you implied it

Principal: I merely state that it is my responsibility to keep you educated, to prepare in the real world...

Me: No, you don't. None of what we learn will ever truly apply in the real world, and you fucking know that well

Principal: I will not have language in my office

Me: Well, I'll keep going until you'll let me off, you fucking hypocritical prick

Principal: I don't see any reason I should let you go

Me: And I don't see any reason you SHOULDN'T let me go

Our argument continued for a while, but I could tell that impotent bastard was losing his patience. I nagged him about first amendments and my freedom of speech and my free will to want to accept education or not, but he didn't seem to want to budge, and he sounded intent to keep me in school no matter what bloody fucking reason I give him or no matter how I argue my point

So you know what I did?

No, I didn't kill him, though I wish to. But I'm not that stupid.

No, I just got myself expelled.

Violence is not tolerated here in my school, so I did the 3-strikes-you're-out kinda thing. I've already have been caught twice for fighting, the 2nd one being the one where I tried to come alone to school without Jan.

So I stormed out of the office, grabbed the first guy I see, slammed his head against the wall just enough to crack his skull a little but not kill him, then gave him a good whacking enough to send him hospitalize.

I've always had a talent in fighting somehow. I dunno where I got my strengths from. I never went for physical training or anything, but my fists tend to have a mean punch somehow and I've got the stamina of something entirely out there.

That's why I told you it's not pretty and you don't wanna know what happened the last time.


So third time is the charm. Mr. P had no choice but to expel me. Armed with the letter of termination, I came home, feeling rather good at myself. I slapped the letter on the dining table at Momma and made my way upstairs, turning the music out loud and totally ignoring her shouts and banging at the door while typing this.

If it weren't for the fact that Jan is still going freakily MIA on me, I'd say I did the best thing I've ever done in my life.

Nothing special today happened.

Other than the fact that Jan ignored my calls and text and had not gotten online when I tried to contact him through MSN.

And when I came to his home, his folks didn't seem to be home to answer the door and he didn't seem to want to answer either.

I know he's at home. He's got his own car and it's parked in the partially opened garage.

But he didn't answer the door and didn't seem to have left his room either.

I wanted to climb up and peek in but that would make me look like a fucking criminal trying to break and enter.

I did see lights from his computer flicker for a while, but that's it. He showed no signs of movement whatsoever.

I didn't go to school either. In fact, while typing this, I'm trying to construct what to write in my letter of school resignation.

Ah, fuck it. I'll just call the school and tell them I don't wanna have anything shit to do with them and I'm quitting.

Momma is not gonna like it but who cares?

It's my life and I'm gonna lead it however I want.

Today something else freaky happened.

I was staying home as usual, contemplating whether I should just give going to school alone another shot when there was loud banging at the front door.

I didn't bother answering it, coz I know Momma would do it, since she's usually the early bird for work, but when there was suddenly yelling involved, I knew something was up.

No one yells at Momma but me. That was the rule in this house.

My rule anyway, but still.

Anywho I went down to investigate, and I saw that it was Mrs. Crumps, the next door neighbour who "owns" the White Witch. The moment she saw me showing up, her voice seemed to have gotten an octave higher as she pointed that stupid nail-polished finger at me.

Mrs. Crumps: You! I know it's you! You did it, didn't you?! ADMIT IT!!!

Me: I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about, bitch! And get that fucking finger of yours off my face before I hack it off with a chainsaw!

Momma: Language, George!

Me: She started it!

Mrs. Crumps: (I'll just call her 'Bitch' for now) If you're not going to admit your handiwork, you better go check it out yourself!

Oh, I checked alright. I was not about to admit to something I KNOW I didn't do. Momma followed behind me to see what the hell the Bitch was talking about. She led me to her backyard where so-called prized apple trees (which looked more leafy than fruits, if you ask me) and pointed at one of them.

It was really some freaky shit.

The White Witch was fucking hanging by the neck on that tree.

Dead as a doornail.

With his guts sticking out.

Yes, you heard me. Guts sticking out.

Like it was fucking Saw VI or some shit. Like someone has gotten medieval on that bloody cat.

As much as I liked the White Witch to become roadkill, this was really fucked-up.

Bitch: See?? You see that?! Look what you did to poor Persia!!

Me: Me?! ME?! How the fuck did you come to that "brilliant" deduction, asswipe?!

Momma: George, langu...

Me: No, Momma! I will NOT watch my tongue! You fucking call this MY handiwork?! You think I'm THAT sick?! I never even touch that fucking cat!

Bitch: I know it's you! I KNOW IT'S YOU!! ADMIT IT, YOU LITTLE PIECE OF...

Momma: Hey, hey, if my daughter said she didn't do it, she didn't do it? How can you be sure it's her and not someone else?

Bitch: I KNOW it's your...whatever your fucking runt's gender's ITS fault! I KNOW it is!! You and IT had never liked my Persia, always complaining and accusing that he raids your trash and make a mess, when Persia would never...

Me: I thought you said you don't own him, now you're saying you are?

Bitch: Th...Tha...That's... That's not the point of discussion here...

Momma: Actually it IS the point. Why would you care so much that this cat was killed if it wasn't yours in the first place? And "Persia"? Sounds like you are admitted what you've been denying all along.

Bitch: THAT'S NOT THE POINT!! IT'S NOT!!! The POINT is YOU KILLED MY CAT!! I'm not going to argue with you right now! I'm calling the cops on you! And don't you fucking leave town!

Leave town? Who does she think she is? The sheriff?

Anyway, she did call the cops and animal control on us, and the blues came to investigate, checking for any foul play after clearing the White Witch's body, and despite the Bitch's loud protests and insistence to the point of jumping up and down and banging and kicking and screaming like a fucking 5-year-old throwing a tantrum, they found nothing to say that we did anything to the White Witch.

Of course we didn't. How sick do they think we are? If you ask me, THEY'RE the sick ones to think that WE did it.

Momma had asked me if I really didn't do it and I snapped "You're sick" at her.

I just got back from feeding Bushy, and even then, I saw that Bitch peeking out of the window, to see if she could "catch us in the act". She's been staring out the window at us ever since the blues gave us the clean bill, giving me the stink-eye every time she caught me seeing her.

I bet she's doing it right now.

Fuck her.


Sorry for the missed day. Technically it should be considered Day 5, but since I was at Janphen's and this really freaky shit happened, I had to collect myself to get my head together before I could write this down.

Besides, who's counting, right?

Anywho, that night after my blog entry, I made my way to Janphen's place to check him out and see if he's OK. Didn't go with the best of my clothes, but then again, Jan's folks, despite their grimaces, never really comment much about it.

They better not be. If they know what's good for them.

I asked for Jan, and they said he had been down with something they couldn't really explain, and had been cooped in his room since he came home from Home Ecs. That's when I remember I did notice something a little off when I was his partner in that class, but he kept saying it's just a stomach flu or something.

I went to his room and let myself in, and there he was lying in bed, his back facing me. I sat down and shook him gently to get his attention.

Me: Yo, bro. U alright?

He didn't reply me.

Me: Yo, bro. C'mon, it's me, George. Ur gal pal. Wakey-wakey.

Jan: Such is the life of a monotonous man, don't you think?

Me: Whut? What the hell are ya talking about?

Jan: When was the last time we went to the beach?

Me: What does that gotta do with it? You're high on meds or something? Your rents say you got some downtime health going on. You're not having cancer or anything, right?

Jan: (he still didn't bother to face me) Do you remember the last time someone in school asked you about your dad?

Me: Well...yeah, I remember. Totally would've showed him a thing if you hadn't told me to leave it be

Jan: Sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing

Me: What?

Jan: Telling you to leave it be. Maybe I should just let you loose, just like the last time I was sick and you had to go to school alone and you totally busted that...

Me: Hey, what are you implying there? Are you saying you didn't want to come pick me to walk me for school on purpose?

Jan: Maybe...Maybe I am...I dunno...Maybe I'm just sick of all this...

Me: Oh, just fucking say it, Jan. You don't wanna be my friend anymore, do you?

Jan: I never said that

Me: But you're implying it

Jan: Maybe...

Me: Maybe what?? The fuck are you...

Jan: (this is where he sat up abruptly and looked at me with his cold dead fish-like eyes, black rings under them like he hadn't been asleep for quite a while) Do you know where your dad is?

Me: What the...How the hell would I know... (I was taken aback at this, it really getting fucking creepy, but he grabbed me by the arms)

Jan: Do you KNOW where your dad is? Do you know WHO your dad is? Do you even KNOW WHAT he is? Do you??? DO YOU???!!!

Me: Get the fuck away from me, man!!

I immediately shoved him against the wall and made my way out of the room. I didn't even bother to explain what happened to the rents. I just stormed out of the house and ran until I couldn't run anymore all the way back home, ran into my room and slammed the door like nobody's business.

Janphen is never like this. He's always been the calm, collected and level-headed person between us. This is the first time I've seen him freak out like this. He never freaks out. Ever.

What the fuck is wrong with him?

Janphen still hasn't showed up to pick me up to school today, so here goes another day without school.

Momma just yelled at me for not going to school again. I told her to fuck off.

I told her if she loved school so much, she should just go herself and take over my place.

She just said "Shit" and left me at that.

Good riddance. Why is she always on my case is beyond me. Well, actually she's always on my case, but these few days it was more than usual.

If it weren't for the fact that I'm still a minor and can't really hold my own until I actually get a job to survive, I would've moved out of my home and hit the road already.

Dammit, she may be my Momma and all, but dammit, I hate her.

And God knows she hates me too. I just know it in my gut instincts ever since the first time I heard her blaming me for being who I am and blaming me for Pops' disappearance.

I think maybe tonight I'll go visit Janphen to see why didn't he show up today and yesterday for school. Not that I want to go back to school or anything, but I have to if I wanna get Momma off my case.

I know what you're thinking. Why can't I just go by my own? Why must I be with Janphen?

Well, it's because only with Janphen around will I be able to function properly in school. He is the only person who will keep me sane in school. Without him, I'd be a wreck. I'd probably be suspended before I even set foot into the building.

Trust me, I tried.

I tried going to school alone without Janphen for a change when he was down with the flu.

It didn't end well.

Even Momma was terrified of me for a while and didn't want to show her face in public for a whole month after what I did, which made her lash out at me more on how it was my fault Pops left when she went on her binge again.

You don't wanna know what I did in school when Janphen wasn't around.

Trust me. It's not pretty.

Janphen didn't come to pick me up to walk with me to school today, so I guess I'm not going to school either.

He's probably the only reason why I would put up going to school.

Seriously, what is exactly even the point of going to school? I mean, you only learn half of what's out there in the real world, and 90% of the time, the things you learn in school doesn't even apply shit in the real world. So why bother?

Momma said if I keep this up, I'll end up working for some good-for-nothing department store as a cashier or a waitress at some dragster cafe earning peanuts.

Well, EXCUSE ME for not having high expectations like you, Momma. What I wanna do with my life is none of your beeswax anyways. Didn't you hate me for being a girl in the first place? Why are you so damn concerned about my welfare anyway? Since when do you give a shit?

Though I should've said this to her face. I'd love to see her looking like I just told her I was pregnant or something.

The last time I lashed out at her, we didn't speak for a week. I was highly dependent on Janphen during that time, coz during the cold shoulder period, she cut off everything, even food and pocket money, from me. I swore I think I lost a pound or two during that week, coz Janphen isn't the richest guy in the world, and I don't fucking accept charity from his weird-like-hell (he agrees with me on that) parents.

Some Momma she is.

I bet she's wondering whether "Pops" would be out there at the window, looking through to try and get a glimpse of the family he left behind.

Though I'd rather he just rot and die somewhere. I don't give a shit.

Speaking of food, I better get all those leftover scraps out for Bushy and let him in the house to eat before the White Witch gets him.

I'll talk about Bushy and White Witch later when I'm done feeding him.

Be back in a few.
OK, I'm back. Now where was I?

Oh, right.

Bushy and the White Witch.

Well, Bushy is more of a stray pet of mine actually. He comes and goes as he pleases, but most of the time it'll be at night, where he would come to beg for leftover scraps. I would always keep a plastic bag nearby to dump in any food that I want to give him, maybe a few other things that I don't like to eat myself, during the day and have them ready by nighttime after our dinner, the last meal of the day.

Sometimes we let him in during the rainy seasons, and he bunks in for the whole winter season, which we let him sleep in either the laundry room or the cellar, but other than that, he's a free spirit.

And then there's the White Witch.

He's the cat next door who has a habit of scavenging our trash at night, making a big fucking mess. We've complained it almost a gajillion times to the neighbours to get rid of it, but they deny ever owning the White Witch even though we caught them letting him in their house a few times.

They call him Persia, if I'm not mistaken, but I rather call him the White Witch.

Coz he's a bitch.

A bitch who's always bullying Bushy.

He sees Bushy as a threat to his territory and is always trying to bite or pick a fight with Bushy to scare him away. Fucking little prat thinks he owns the place when we never invited him in in the first place.

God, I wish he'd just keel over and die, that White Witch. Just get run over by a truck or something and put him out of his misery.

Anything to leave poor Bushy alone.

.......I have a soft spot for cats. Shut up.

Well, can't believe I'm back, and actually playing along with this.

What more can I say about myself? Hmm...

Well, from what I heard from conversations between Momma and her family friends, I was pretty much born in a good old fashioned home birth. Pops almost missed the birth, but then again in the old days, men weren't allowed to be in the same room with the women during birth anyways, which pretty much made it redundant to show up anyhow.

Must've been a pretty crappy birth coz from the looks of it, the midwife who delivered me wasn't too experienced. She made Momma punch me out (no literal pun intended) too hard that it somehow severed some of the arteries in her womb, thus the near-death experience with blood loss. Momma had to be rushed to the hospital in the dead of night to be saved, and I was pretty much the one that pulled through the most.

Pops left when I was one month old. Never really knew the reason why. He just left a note saying that he won't be home for dinner tonight, and also left behind the birth certificate that he had finally gotten down to register my name in.

And he never came home since.

George Midnight Anderson, that was the name he registered me in, and it stuck ever since.

Momma went on to say that during the first few years of his absence, she could've sworn she saw Pops standing out in the window, staring into my room and at me in the bed. She said he even had that tell-tale tilt of the head especially when he wanted to see something clearly, but every time she opened the window or ran outside the house to check and see if he was there, he wasn't. And when she asked around if he had ever showed up or seen him where he always peeked in, no one saw a thing.

And once I reached 5, the "visitations" just stopped altogether.

I don't bloody remember if I ever saw anyone standing outside my window peeking through like some sort of pedophile perv, but then again, I was prolly too young to remember.

Momma blames me sometimes when she is mad or drunk, saying that it's because I was born a girl that Pops left. That I was born a girl that I drove Pops away, and my namesake was for him to punish her for giving him a girl instead of a boy.

Well, geez, bitch, it's not like I WANT to be a girl. If you want a boy so much, why don't you just kick me out of the house and fucking adopt already? Fucking bitch.

I guess that's all I have to vent for now. I promised Janphen we'd go check out some R-rated movies.


Depression is a bitch.

And apparently my friend Janphen told me that writing on a blog like some sort of diary might help.

Not that I want to. But I'm doing this just to make him happy.

So...what am I supposed to write?

About myself? Maybe.

Alright, here's the facts:

1. I'm female, though people tend to think I'm male, but that's fine. Gender consciousness was never really my thing.

2. The name's George. Yes, that IS my actual name. Not short for Georgina or Georgiana or whatever. Just George. Father wanted a boy, came out a girl, Mother ended up almost died of blood loss after birth and had to remove her entire womanhood, and thus no more sibs for me. Guess that's why Pops left.

3. Not at a legal age to smoke or drink, but who gives a fuck, right? You only live once.

4. Go to a crappy middle-class school with a bunch of doodads for friends and only have one true friend, which is Janphen. He's all I need.

5. Aside from movies and arcades, I stay in my room most of the time, maybe have a casual sex or two with Janphen, but that's about it.

6. People think I'm emo or whatever coz of the way I dress, but honestly it's more of me being a recluse.

7. I used to love life, but life don't love me back, so I decided to hate it

There, that's about the gist of who I am. I guess venting out is not so bad after all. Gotta thank Janphen for this.

This may mean a trip to the drug store...

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