Tip #30: What we're looking for

I don't know what that is, of course. It just seemed to fit, considering... everything.

I finally stopped moving .

It felt right, not wrong, not like everywhere else I've been in the past few months. It finally felt like I could rest my feet.

And this is where this blog ends.

I never did this for anyone else but myself. nobody is looking at this stupid thing but me. And I'm tired of looking at it.

I was tired of looking at it four months ago.

Hey, who knows? Maybe some day, I'll go into more detail about me and my "luck" (and I use that term loosely) or whatever else.

But today is not that day.

Signing off,

Terry Brooks

29

two months

two fucking months of this shiiiiiiiiit

three months of Running

four months since things just went to hell

and five since I started this stupid thing

And all I can do is keep "moving on"?

Towards somewhere, someone, or something I don't even know exists?

Fuck this shit

Fuck everything

Fuck that Thing ruining my life out of nowhere

Fuck not having a home to go back to

Fuck all the lies

And happy fucking birthday to me.

#28

Nobody fucking wants to hear about me and my problems.
I'm alive.
Other people aren't.
Go away.

Tip #27

Everywhere I go, I just hand off my unluckiness to someone else.

I don't know if I'm just seeing things, if the calls I'm getting on my cell phone are real, if the messages that my parents are alive are just lies, if the body slamming onto the pavement next to me was just a fluke

They all make the same sound.

I'm not sure if I'm just the luckiest guy in the world, or if someone else has to suffer for me constantly avoiding something like "fate"...

but i'm starting to not be able to convince myself that it's just a coincidence

It's happening too often for me to lie to myself like that

So I just keep on moving towards wherever I'm supposed to go, trying to not think about what I'll do if it turns out to be nothing but a waste of time...

Tip #26: Lucky duck

I've kept on moving forward to wherever my brain seems to think that my destination is. Straight lines, twists in the road, back alleyways, busy streets, it doesn't seem to make a difference. For all I know, that Thing is what is driving me forward. I don't care. I just want to see the ending of whatever this is supposed to be. I want to see this through. 

Except.

It was an extremely average day for me at least, and nothing was really different, nothing changing for me. I was just moving along, dodging any shady looking folks, and I finally found a moment to take a rest. I slipped on my headphones, figuring if anyone was going to get the jump on me, they would've already.

I always hear stupid static these days, even sometimes when I'm not listening to anything. But today my headphones didn't seem to be working. I remember thinking that this had to be some kind of stupid joke, or a prank, what a stupid thought that was...

"Start moving."

The voice that rang out through my headphones was a voice I was already tired of hearing.

It was my voice.

What else could I do when faced with that? What would you do? I grabbed my pack and started to jog. Picking up the pace as the static got louder. 

"In about 30 seconds you'll be dead if you stop, just keep going

and you'll get what I mean, for better or for worse..."

Someone behind me gasped, but I just ran faster. People in the intersection panicked, and somebody screamed from some alleyway behind me, but I just kept moving. Through crowds of panicking people, bustling and pushing, running straight out of town, hearing my voice in my ear again and again but not really paying attention to what it was saying...

I never did turn back. I just kept running, until I was out of town, finally noticing that I was leaving faint, red footprints...

The fog moved in just as I continued forwards.

Was I actually talking to myself? Or was I hearing something else? someone else? The static lowered to a duller howl, and I didn't know what else to do, so I just cranked my music up as I kept walking...

Tip #25: Don't people usually take longer to have stupid crises like these?

Considering I'm not even sure if that happened. What I wrote about. I can't be sure. How could I ever be? But I can't complain too much. I've got it good for someone who runs. Nobody has robbed me, I still have some spare clothes and I never get too hungry. I haven't even had any run ins with... his people. The need to keep moving is getting less and less urgent. I feel like I'm... moving towards something. Maybe it's just me being crazy. The whole world seems crazy to me. Why should I be any different?

I keep on seeing that kid when I go to sleep. I see me shove him back, and I scream out, I shout, reaching out a hand to yank him back from the curb, but my see-through, static-y hand can't do anything, and I can only watch his broken body fly through the fucking air, leaving a trail of depressing red as it goes.

It's like a loop. Wake up, keep moving, go to sleep, angst about someone who probably had a death wish anyways. That's my state of the world right now; live on, while feeling guilty about things I probably couldn't help. That's been what I've done this whole time. I just sit here, having it better than anyone else, but not trying to help. I never do. I never have. It feels dumb to feel bad about it now. Like, what could I ever fucking change about the past? what's the point? But every night, the same dream waits for me, like I've been infected by some kind of virus. The fact that it's summer only makes it worse. Then it laughs at me, the haze of the heat in the dream(?), as if to say "This is the real thing!". I keep on hearing his scream as he got hit.

This is why I've always hated the summer...

Tip #24: Good luck is a Token of I don't know what

The towns seem to blur together these days. I'm heading for the big city. That's what everyone else seems to do. There'll be people there that know what they're doing. shelters. and Food. Oh my god, food. I could afford plenty, but I'm rationing what cash I have left. If this Thing suddenly vanishes from my life, good for me. But as long as I can feel it behind me, I'm gonna keep moving for as long as I can.

I've had tons of near-misses. Freaks in hoodies that seem to pass right by me, moving, writhing shadows in alleyways that stop when I walk pasT, a twenty-dollar bill on the sidewalk

someone else getting hit by a truck instead of me

They exploded when the bumper hit them. Flew a good 10 feet, I don't really remember how far, and I was just covered in this fine red mist, just like what was on the sketches in Tara's locker. There was only a half second of difference between me being off the curb and him walking, this asshole pushed me backwards as I stopped towards the curb, and I

pushed him back, of course

The worst part was hearing his bones break. Watching the white shards break through his skin, blood dripping down his twisted limbs, and the look on his face right before he was hit, and some nice bystander got me washed up at a coin laundry across the street

The cops didn't make me stick around
and nobody saw

So i'm trying to not think about how I'm kinda a murderer now.

How am I any better from the assholes in masks?

I don't even fucking know anymore.