. 05.02.14 drug doll .

I can no longer remember what I look like. Some days, I am pale with skin the color of pasty wallpaper and eyes as blue as a dingy bar’s neon lights.  Other days, I am flushed with red cheeks and glowing eyes of amber and beer bottles, and a ballerina’s step. One thing is for sure though, I am a walking drugstore. That is what I remember the most. That, and his smile.

Let me start over.

I am a walking drugstore. My bodily fluids have become chemicals people are starting to get addicted to. From my blood, to my sweat and tears, they sample me in the most undignified ways. They keep me around like a pet or livestock to be milked. I am a living doll, built with no other purpose but to be tied to a heater in the pharmacy’s back room and fill vials and needles when people come in for their fix.

I am a living doll, and I was slowly breaking.

At first it was no big deal. I’m not human, at least not entirely. I felt no pain when they first started taking samples. It started with simple blood transfusions. Patients and clients alike would inject my blood into their arms and streams, or shoot them up like cocaine. But the addiction progressively became worse, and people started to want more and more.

They would shoot up the chemicals in a variety of places. Beneath their toenails, their sclera, the veins on the underside of their tongue. One night a customer came in and needed a needle through his eyeball, though no one needed to tell him that both his eyes were as bloodshot as beets. They, my handlers, decided that they would use the same fluids from my eyeballs for this valued customer. And for the first time in my inanimated life, I felt afraid.

I suffered the surgery.

When it was done, I was kept in a secluded room to ‘heal’ or replenish what I’d lost in the darkness. This dark room was a tiny thing at the farther most back of the hellish clinic, right next to the back door. My room, of course, was locked. There was however a tiny window in my door where my handlers would slide open to check on me.

One night, while I was still recuperating in the darkness, I heard the little window slide. It was however not my handler, but a face I’d never seen before. He was not a regular either. In fact, he looked rather lost. He needed only seconds to process that I was in fact a prisoner he had found by coincidence and made it his mission to free me. I stared absent-mindedly as he tried the lock but bolted out of there the moment he opened the heavy door, and I took my hand in his the whole time I ran.

We were out in the wild streets, running and running till our legs felt like they could give out. Running till we felt like no more shadows were looming over our heads, or breathing down our necks. And then, in that part of unchartered city, it began to pour. Having found some shelter, the man –my rescuer– seemed upset at the rate things were turning out. He apologized about the fact that we were caught up in this wet mess and now that we were lost without a plan. He looked pained, as if he had failed before we had even begun anything.

I said nothing as I hugged him, pulling his drenched body close to mine. I hug him with my pasty wallpaper arms, as my cracked lips kiss him then and there. In a voice that didn’t even sound like my own, I said unto him that I would rather be here in this mess with him than back at that merciless sty.

I pull away and look up at him, burning the image of his smile into my memory. And it was that very night I found that I had fallen for his taste.

Oh my God it has been forever since my last update on this blog and I am so so sorry. Things have been busy ever since I graduated this February. Things have been topsy turvy, and I’ve just been all over the place trying to reorganize my life and be a productive member of society. That said, I haven’t been keeping note of my Dreams as of late and that kinda makes me sad. Even though I’m using this new app on my phone called Dreamboard, which makes it easier for me to document them the moment I wake up. The fact of it is, I just haven’t been remembering them as of late. And the ones I do remember aren’t eventful enough for me to write about. Anyways! Here’s a new Dream to add to the journal! If you’ve stuck around since the beginning of this blog, I’d just like to say thank you so much for your patience and I hope you still enjoy my content~

. 08.08.12 Slender child .

  I was a young girl with long black hair and a petite red dress, and a cute red hair-band. I lived in a great, big, wooden cottage in the middle of a grey forest. Very rarely did I see people in the forest, let alone children. But when I did see children, I was very happy. I’d go out and play with them. The children never stayed for long though. They were either frightened of me or stayed away, or they just disappeared eventually. But there were two boys that did not mind the fact I lived in a forbidden forest and that I had slightly morbid tendencies. I liked them a lot. They were my first friends.

  The older boy had chestnut hair and eyes, and wore a plain white shirt with denim overalls, with one strap hanging loose from his shoulder. His younger brother had darker hair, almost black like mine, and wore a red shirt and knee-length, brown pants. They lived in a village near to my forest and stumbled upon me by chance one day. Though they were told time and time again not to go near the forest by their parents, they would visit me every day just to play with me. I was their little secret as they were mine.

  But one day they visited me while I was still inside my home. I was in my bedroom upstairs and they saw me through the window. Though I was afraid we would get caught, I opened my window and hurried them to come inside before ‘daddy’ would see. So they were let into my home and we played for a while. But once I heard ‘daddy’ come back home, I had to rush them out the window and had them carefully climb down. ‘Daddy’ doesn’t like it when strangers are in the house. He doesn’t like strangers at all.

  The moment the boys disappeared from plain sight, running back to their village, there was a knock on my door. ‘Daddy’ entered, looming and tall, so much so he reached the ceiling and he had to hunch. His tentacles were twisting and twirling behind him, restless, as if he was disturbed. He took a look outside my window then turned to me and I smiled as innocently as I could. Once his tendrils calmed down, his faceless mask softened as well and a large tentacle patted me on the head. I loved ‘daddy’ but it can get rather lonely sometimes when everyone’s afraid of Slenderman.

Yes I was Slenderman’s child and I really enjoyed the Dream. The way Slendy was so affectionate with me, and protective of me. It made me wonder if I was really his biological, monstrous child or just some child he kidnapped and liked having around. Or perhaps I was demonically possessed and he adopted me for that interest in me. Or perhaps I was a normal child who was already dead, but resurrected due to Slendy’s supernatural powers; cus he was awfully lonely himself and needed someone to play with. Asides from all this, what is up with the iconic girl with black hair and red dress? Is it really symbolism for something pure evil?