That was a horrible fucking stretch of time. All those fucking commercials, "SPEND YOUR WORTHLESS FUCKING LINEN ON SHINIES IN HOPES YOU GET SEX FROM IT," ha, fuckit. The last time I ever used my dick for more than pissing was with storms that one time. Found out what she's been up to, glad she's with a better crowd than me. Don't get all offended either, saying it's because I spent the day alone. I didn't. I spent the day on a date with someone here, I've been hanging out in an industrial shell of a town, for the previous amount of time. She invited me in that night. I declined, gave her a kiss. She was found dead two days later.
I miss everyone. I miss storms, that smile she'd get, I miss Ian, before I had to actually kill him, I miss not worrying. He took this from me. My entire life, all stolen by some eldritch fucking horror that OUR MINDS MADE UP. Jesus fucking christ. Fuck you, Mister Surge. Fuck you. Even now, I want to embrace that girl. If I tried now, I'd be hugging an entrail soaked body. I don't want to cry, I've done too much of that by now.
I'm gonna stick here though. Running does nothing. He always finds you. Next time I meet someone, I'm not gonna let her die. Not again. I've lost everything now, except my own dignity, and if there comes something he can steal, I'm gonna invest in top of the line security to protect it. Slender security. I'll check back with you guys, when I can.