Monday, February 20, 2012


Alive, once more. The rage... It was a temporary fix. Haven't had any slips since the last post. Then again, they've been staying away as of late. Something about my current self has them on edge. I've been... different. Happier. More... Normal? Is that the word for it?
No, not normal. Normal people just act happy, as a facade against the world. I've been genuinely happy.
Just as a precaution, last month, I got myself a lighter, a cheap Zippo (oxymoron FTL. It was still $10) from a store. As with any useful trinket I carry regularly and don't mind damaging, I scratched an operator symbol into it. Something about fire just sets me at ease, and that alone says for them to leave me the fuck alone.
If they fuck with my happiness, it's on.

~Steve (Berserker)

Sunday, September 11, 2011

I Can't Believe This...

I actually killed one. I killed a proxy.
I don't know why I'm so shocked by this. I had always known it was an option, possibly even the best option. Yet, for some reason, I had never done it.
Now I see why. In that brief instant, the moment I gave into my rage, I was like them.
It wasn't emotionless killing, either. I let loose my rage, all the pent up frustration, onto that one proxy that had the balls to try to jump me. I was utterly gleeful.
I caught his hand mid-swing. He was holding a knife, so I pulled mine out, and placed it in his stomach, berserk smile plastered on my face. I used his knife to slit his throat, and removed mine from his gut.
Looking back on it, this is probably what He wanted. He wanted to show me how easy it was to slip, to succumb to weakness. Then again, if I had just taken it, I would have been in a far worse situation.

In related news, I decided to give myself a title. Everyone else seems to be doing it, so why not me? I can now be called (Berserker). Ironically, I picked this about a week ago, before my berserk snap, in an attempt at a joke. Up until now, the most violent thing I had done was an attempt to trap some proxies for information.

Monday, September 5, 2011


Feeling poetic.
Thought I'd write a few haiku.
They're awful, I know.

It's all just a joke.
None of this really matters.
Yet I must fight on.

Not just for myself.
This is for all He has done.
All the lives He's wrecked.

It's time to fight back.
This might be the last post here.
I'm Steve, signing off.

Thursday, August 18, 2011


Well, I said it was a bad idea, so I guess that's what I get.
Slenderman mask/suit combo does not work as a disguise, even against the hiveminds.
Those fuckers called reinforcements, I knocked three of the sorry sons of bitches out cold, they called their boss, and I had to run.
Mild headache. I'm getting used to them, honestly.
That fact alone would have worried me a year ago.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011


That last post was just me rambling. Tends to happen when my headaches get worse.
Caffeine addiction is a weakness I've been living with for years. Compared to the withdrawal symptoms I get after two days, the shit I put up with when Slenderman is around is nothing. However, when you combine the two, you get me rambling and spouting out every thought that goes through my head just to prove to myself that I'm still a functioning human being.
And yes, that's what happened. He showed up in my weakened state, and I was barely able to stay conscious. Headache persisted through the entire day, despite caffeine treatment. Nausea lasted for about 2 hours. Smell of blood (possible indication of nosebleed) continued for five hours.
He's fucking with me. He's just taunting me. This is how he plays with his victims.
Unfortunately for him, he's dividing his efforts right now. There has been a lull in proxy activity in the region, signifying a lack of (non-me) targets and a lower troop availability. So, I'll probably live for quite a while longer, while he continues to fuck me up.
Wish me luck, everyone. I'm about to try something stupid.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Thoughts as I think them...

I don't know why it is I can't focus...
I need more caffeine...
Words do not have power, they are power...
I can hardly think, this headache is too much...
Sometimes I wonder why I ever got in...
My throat's irritated, but not stinging. I think something's caught in it...
Why am I typing this?
Ooh, shiny...
Why would I ever need to put a pen there?
My old iPod is upside down...
I really need to get all the empty cans out of here soon...
My mouth tastes weird...
*Entirety of the song Zydrate Anatomy goes here*
I still need more caffeine. This headache is unbearable.
Holy shit, it's 2:32. I work tomorrow. I need to sleep.
Fuck, headache!
No sleep for me, I guess...
I smell a fire...

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

On Symbols

I feel now is the perfect time to give a lesson on what is known as symbolism.
Symbolism is allowing one thing to stand for another, e.g. a crucifix for the Christian faith, a handshake for an agreement, language for thoughts, et al.
The reason for this mild lecture is a comment from the (now certifiably batshit insane) Danielle, saying that the (X) is a dead symbol.
Let me tell you all the various ways that is wrong.
1. No matter how hard anyone tries, they cannot kill a symbol. So long as it has significance to one person, the symbol is still alive.
2. The (X) is a variable symbol. For some, it is a protective ward. For others, its mere presence brings problems. Even though it was likely originally luck that determined what it meant to each of them, it now is associated with those things for the respective people. They know it to be a symbol. It's a symbol for thousands of different things, Danielle. And those are the hardest symbols to vanquish.
3. The (X) is dead to Him. So what? He's not human. He has no concept of symbolism. The only thing human about Him is curiosity. And that's why He's keeping you around, Danielle. That's what His agents are to Him. They are proof of His curiosity. He wonders why you fools would willingly follow something that just wants to take everything apart, all of you included. He's testing to see how far He can push a human before we break. And guess what, Danielle? You broke. He has no need for you anymore.

I'm going to stop writing now. Headache. Until next time, this is Steve, logging off.