I am fine

But regardless of that fact, we are about to go to the hospital.  Erika assures me we will be fine, and that we need to go.  Any trauma to me can hurt the baby.  Also, this finger will probably need re-attached.

I woke up missing my finger.  It was resting on the night stand, next to a sprig of lemon balm.

The wound's been dressed, but now I'm being rushed out of my seat.

I do not like missing my left ring finger, but I would like being arrested even less.  I

This is Extra.  I have taken  the computer from her.  We are leaving now, no matter how much she flails at me.

Something odd

I don't believe Erika is being entirely straight with me.

I am fairly certain she is being followed by something as well.

Every once in a while it becomes...cold.  Freezing, even.  Colder than even winter should be.

Even more rarely, I catch sight of a little boy covered in a layer of frost.

And I, typically, when this occurs, I hear a nursery rhyme.

Of course, Erika tells me it is nothing, as she tells me everything is "nothing".  It is surprising the walls of reality themselves don't fall down around Erika or Extra or whatever her name is, given the amount of times everything about her is "nothing".

Thanksgiving

I was thankful out of spite this year.  I am doing many things out of spite this year.

I was thankful for my baby, even though she's starting to be something of a hassle.  I am starting to wonder what sort of dementia I have been suffering wanting a second chance at pregnancy.  I was thankful for Erika, even if she is just about the worst person to have on hand while you're pregnant.  I was even thankful for this lovely bouquet I received.  I am not going to cower ever time I get some flowers.  You're stalking the wrong girl to get that reaction, you monster.

I am sort of worried about the end of my term, though.  What happens when I have to stay put?  It's going to happen sooner rather than later.  My second trimester will be over in roughly a month's time.  I won't be able to run, soon.

No, I'm not going to dwell on that.  Erika's been looking for a safe place.  In her own way, I suppose.  I need to focus on moving forward.  Protecting the baby.  For Tam and for myself.  I will see this through.

One more thing

Clayre.  Mary.

I've gotten your emails.  I'm sorry I can't tell you where I am.

I hope you realize it's for the best.  Don't try to find me.

I don't want you to get more wrapped up in this mess than you already have.

I love you both.  Even you, Mary--you're like the sister I never really wanted, until I had her.  Whereas Clayre actually is the sister I never really wanted.

...but I'm making too light of it.  Please.  Take care of yourselves.

And don't follow me.

My baby

You are, perhaps wondering why I'm putting myself at such risk for this child.  I know Erika is.

The answer is simple.  There are two parts to it.

The first is the obvious one.  Maternal love.  It needs no real explanation.

The second, and stronger reason, however?  Spite.

I am going to have this baby.  I am not going to let anything stop me from having this baby.

I can tell Erika really, really wishes to argue with me, but for some reason, she cannot argue my reasoning.  Perhaps spite is a powerful driving force for her as well.

I had better get back to bed, if for no other reason than the stop Erika's constant moaning that I should go back to bed.  I imagine it's more fun for my little parasite if the sudden urge to pee wakes me up than if I'm up already.

...I wish Erika had better sleeping bags.  Yes yes, I know, poor pampered pregnant city girl.

Flowers

Today I woke up and resting on my chest was another bouquet of forget-me-nots.

Erika says this means we have to keep moving.  This is simple for her to say, as she is not rapidly gaining weight, nor does she have to urinate every ten seconds because a tiny freeloader is growing inside of her.

She tells me it would be in my best interest to have an abortion.  She tells me this at least once a day.  She even offers to perform it herself.

I will not.

I will carry this baby to term.

Whether I will keep her, or whether she will go up for adoption is another thing, but she will be born into this world.  I will have her.  Nothing that monster can do will stop me.

I suppose I should sleep.  I'll need all I can get, so I can wake to a bright, sunny morning of vomiting my guts out once again.

Erika

I have  a little time.  Not much, but a little.  Erika--she has lost the war on preventing me from calling her that--wants us to get as far away from where we were as possible.  She doesn't want to police finding us.  I tend to agree--I doubt I would be very interesting quarry--if that is indeed what is keeping me alive--from protective custody.

She won't tell me much about herself.  She says she was watching me because I remind her of someone she lost.  She also says she was once a victim of these...creatures, herself, in the past.

I want to trust her, but...I don't know what to think, anymore.  I long for a time when I could blame the death of my fiance on the evils of man.  But now?  The world is so much darker than I knew it to be.  Can I afford to trust someone like her when literal creatures of darkness are out to get me and my unborn as well?

I should sleep.  I have a long day of being homeless and on the run tomorrow.

Whirlwind

Have you ever had a day you were certain was a dream?

That has been today.

When I looked into the main room, I saw a man there.  I didn't recognize him.  He didn't see me, at first,  but I heard him call out.

"I gave you the warnings!  I left the codes!  You should have listened!  It's too late, now...it's too late for both of us!"

I waited until he was looking the other direction and slowly closed my door.  I turned towards my window and prepared to open it.

Then....I saw

I'm not sure what it is.  What it was.

It was shaped like a man.  It had wild, messy red hair, the sort of red no person's hair actually is.  It wore an oversized, blood-soaked shirt that covered its hands with over-long sleeves.  It must have had eyes, but I never remember seeing them.

I just remember its smile.

It was so wide, so impossibly wide.  Full of teeth, an impossible number of teeth, more than should have fit in an already impossibly wide smile.

And then it was in the room with me.

I scrambled to the door and flung it open, and tried to run, but the man in the room grabbed me, held me down no matter how hard I struggled against his grip.

"See, see what you're making me do!  It's your fault.  You should've run!"  The man cried and that...that thing walked slowly towards me.  The grin never left its face.  It only grew larger.

It knelt next to me.  Blood dripped off its shirt, onto the ground.  It held out a sleeve covered hand towards me, and I felt a cut slowly open across my  cheek, seemingly with no source.  I saw...I tried to look at its eyes, but I couldn't.  I could only see that horrible mouth, that horrible grin get wider and wider.

I realized it was going to torture me.  It was going to cut at me and bleed me and make me suffer.  And then it was going to take my heart.  It was going to kill me, and my baby, like it had killed Tam.

There was nothing I could do to stop it.

And that's when the man in white saved my life.

He burst in the room and stabbed the man holding me down in the chest with a butterfly knife.  The creature looked casually up at him, and the man in white wrenched the blade out of the man's body and slammed it into the monster's chest, right where the heart would have been on any human.

He then grabbed me and pulled me up, kicking away the now gasping for air man in the process, and pulled me as fast as he could us out of the building.

We had bolted out the front door and were starting to rush down the street when I realized that the "man" in white wasn't a man at all.

It was Erika.

Police cars pulled to a stop in front of us, and police  rushed out, pulling their weapons and ordering us to freeze.  Erika did so, as did I, mostly out of reflex.  I had no idea what was going on....I had no idea how I'd been saved, or what I'd been saved from.

I almost began to ask when the police in front of me were suddenly torn into ribbons by some invisible force.  From behind their cars stepped the creature, knife still protruding from its chest.  It walked slowly towards us.  Erika shoved me behind her and stepped forward, as if to meet it head on.

The thing cocked its head slightly, and reached both of its hands to the blade.   It pressed them to the weapon and slowly pulled it out without gripping it.  It then slowly held the knife out, as if offering it back.  Erika did not accept it, and the beast just let it topple to the ground.

It leaned to the side, and looked right at me.  Its grin somehow got even wider, now substantially wider than the face it belonged to, and then it vanished.

In its place was a bouquet of Forget-me-nots.

"Erika.  Erika, what was..."

"My name is not Erika."  She said.  "And we need to get you away from here, quickly.  You will live only as long as you provide decent sport for that--thing."

"But what's going on?!"  I asked.  "What was that?!  Who are you?!"

Erika--or whatever her name was--flipped her knife closed and placed it in her trenchcoat.  "I picked the name Erika because it is...similar to what I have been calling myself.  You should call me Extra.  The Extra Piece.  As for what that thing was...some call it the Smiling Man.  I try not to call these entities by their actual name.  I have thought of it, in the past, as the Where the Wild Roses Grow."

She has told me...substantially more, since we've been fleeing.  This is the only moment of respite I've known since the hellish whirlwind the day started as.

That..thing will follow me.  It will torment me until I stop being interesting to it, and then it will kill me.  All I can do to survive is...make it an interesting chase.

It is one of many, many creatures of its kind.  She won't tell me how she knows any of this, or why it didn't just kill her, too, when it had the chance.

We're at a diner.  Erika's--I cannot think of her otherwise--telling me we need to get moving, to find a place to sleep.  Before something comes and finds us.

I will post when I can.

Right now...I feel as though I need to sob myself to sleep.

Mary....Clayre...don't worry about me.  I think...I think I'll be fine, for now.  I think we'll be fine.

I came out of the bathroom and the police are gone.

I can't see them outside, either.  Just their car.

If you don't hear from me again...

...I'm sorry.

I'll try to fight but, if I die...maybe I get to see Tam again.

Someone's in the main room.

The police have been keeping secrets from me.

They haven't released me because I've been getting bouquets.  None of the other girls did.  Just me.

They've been throwing them away, but I got one today.  It was in my closet.  Just waiting for me.

I didn't recognize most of the flowers, but I did a couple.  Bulrush.  Red chrysanthemums.

There was a card with the flowers.  There was just one word on it.

"Soon."

The police almost have a full squad here now.  Erika and Mary want to be here but they're being kept away. Probably for the best.  For their own good.

It won't be long now.

I will hurt him for you, Tam.

Wish me luck.

Grief, rage, and boredom

Those are my three most pronounced emotions these days.  These police seem to believe I am the most likely target, even though nothing has happened in weeks.  I am watched even closer than the others--Erika's no longer escorted outside the home, Mary is allowed unsupervised outings during the day, and Clayre has even been allowed to head back home!

But I'm stuck, watched all day, every day.  I scarcely get time alone in the bathroom.  It's not that I wish something would happen...I just wish I could be free from this.  Tam's death has been...it should have been a moment, a terrible moment, but one that, like all moments, passed with time.

Instead, it's been my all.  It's been everything in my life.  I've not been allowed to even try to move on.  That is all I want...the chance to grow past this.  To heal.

But I fear I will never get it.

It is official

I am just a wimp.

Working out is hard

I have expressed my desire to get in better shape, both for my baby, and for me, in case the killer returns.

Surprisingly, Erika knows a lot about defense.  She has taught me a lot already, and I'm learning more every day.

It is also exhausting.  Perhaps the baby is finally starting to take its toll on me.  Or maybe I'm just a wimp.  I am inclined to believe I am fantastic at any given juncture, so I'm blaming the interloper in my stomach.

Erika isn't just good at self-defense, though.  I've heard her have many an argument with some of the officers around here.  Apparently, she likes to give them the slip when she's out on her morning jog.  I'm not sure where she goes, but when she is finally picked up again it's usually with some coffee for all of us so I can't complain too hard.

I just worry about here.  About everyone. We've been stuck here for over two weeks now.  When does it end?  When does it stop being likely that this killer will come after us?  How long do we have to wait?  I know I spouted some rather inspiring rhetoric about being read for the killer, but am I?  Do I have to be ready my whole life?  How long must we wait for the other shoe to smack us upside out collective heads?

He's back

Twice, this week, I've seen the man in white.  Always when I'm alone in the house--save for the police.  He always disappears before I can call them over.  I wonder...is he the Chrysanthemum Slasher?  Could I have stopped this before it happened?  Is Tam's blood on my hands?

I can't stop thinking about it.  I've talked with the others about it, and the police.  I haven't seem him since and the police are setting up more patrols to look for him.

I should be scared.  But I'm not.  The void inside me is finally fading, after weeks of suffering, of numbness, I've finally found my true response.  The emptiness is gone.

In its place is now rage.

I have been sulking around like a wounded animal.  Like a dog that can't get over its master's death and has decided to waste away rather than live without him.  That will not be how Ashleigh Torn is remembered.

It's time to get mad.

I won't cower.  I won't simply walk into death.  I am not letting my baby die.

If this bastard comes for me, I will be kicking and screaming.  I give my word on that.

Greetings from protective custody

There is nothing quite like being woken the day after your fiance has been found dead in your very own place of residence by the police.

To answer any questions, I am fine, for the moment.  Though, perhaps, a better way to say that is I am numb, for the moment.  I feel cold, cold and empty.  It will probably pass in time, but for now, I feel nothing. Clayre, Erika, and Mary all worry for me, but they shouldn't.  This has wounded me, it has cut me  very deeply, but I will survive, and I will scar over, and I will be a better person for this.

I have almost repeated that enough that I believe it.

At any rate, you have probably gained additional questions due to my rather attention-gathering post title.  I had thought of perhaps doing something a bit less gaudy, but in the end, I went with shock value.  Gauche, I know.

I am being held by the police, for my own good.

Apparently, the death of Tam, coupled with the lead-up to his murder, follow the pattern of a serial killer known as "the Chrysanthemum Slasher".  Given the pattern of the Slasher, either I, someone Tam knows, or someone I know could be the next victims.  So, I have police watching my movements at all hours of the night.  Clayre and Mary and Erika have been staying with me at a house where we can all be watched carefully "for our own protection".

...and I honestly do not care if I am next.

I know that sounds terrible.  I just do not care anymore.  It's not that I don't want to live anymore.  I just don't care if I die.

Yes, I know this means the baby would die too, but...I feel like a horrible person, but I have a hard time caring about that either.  You didn't see what his body looked like.  The pain he must have gone through.  he must have been so scared, so alone.  The killer took his heart.  He took my Tam's heart.  Why would someone do that to someone else?  What sort of world am I bringing this child into, where someone will do that to another human being?

nononononononono

oh god please no

no no no

i don't know what

i didn't

no no no no no no no

This is Erika.  I have made Ashleigh take a sleeping pill and lie down.  Because she is still out of sorts, I will finish this for her.

The details are sketchy, but from what I can gather, when Ashleigh came home on Friday, she found the body of Tam, her fiance, on her bed in her apartment.  I will not go into the details on the cause of death or the extent of his injuries--suffice it to say, it is fairly impossible for his death to have been anything save foul play. None currently know how his body was taken here--there were no witnesses, and Mary was home the entire time and heard and saw nothing.

She may not post in this blog for a while.  She asked me to say that specifically.

Please, have patience with her.  This is a very trying time for her.

Siblings

Clayre has been here two days and I already sort of want to strangle her.  But I suppose that would be a success in her book.  It's hard for me to mourn and fret when I wish to flay my sibling alive and roll her still-conscious body in salt and lemon juice.

But it's good to have her here, vitriol aside.  She has helped more than I thought she would.  She's pushing my buttons.  Keeping me distracted.

It still hurts, but I'm healing.  I don't think I will be "better" by any stretch of the imagination for a long time, but I think...I think I might by okay for a while.  I hope I can be okay for a while.

She's taking me out for late night ice cream.  As much as I abhor to stick to the stereotypical feminine standby for feeling better, that sounds really, really fucking good right now.

Empty

I wish this was not always a broken record these days.

Tam's gone.  He's gone.

It hits me in waves.  Sometimes, I will be sitting, and it will have, for scant, precious moments, slipped my mind.

And then, it all comes crashing back.  The horrible truth of it strikes me like a viper, and I am left broken.  Empty.

I love him so much.  Is this my fault?  Did I chase him away?

Please, Tam.  Please, I need you.  I can't raise this baby alone.  I'm not even sure I can carry her to term on my own.

I feel so weak.  I learned to be strong because he believed in me.  Now I feel...useless.  Pining and worn and tired, so tired.  Mary and Erika have tried to slip me drugs, to make me sleep.  I can't sleep.  What if he calls?  What if he needs me but I can't hear the phone?  Or I don't get his email in time?

...I should sleep regardless.  My sister is coming up tomorrow, to just...help me.  I'm not sure what she can do...but...

Goodnight, Tam.  I miss you.  Come home.

Nothing

I've been tearing Tam's apartment apart for a week now.

Nothing.  No hints about where he went, no clues about what happened to him.  I go over every day and work for hours and hours.  Nothing.

Except for those fucking flowers.

His roommates are reporting that before he vanished, Tam was receiving flowers at a rate of approximately one bouquet a week.

No cards, no florist's mark, price tag, or barcode.  No sign they existed at all, really.

I don't understand.  Who was sending him these things?  Why?  Is he hurt?  Has someone taken him?

...in other news, I'm getting an automatic A for the semester, given the circumstances.  I did not even have to go to my last few history classes.

I wish I could be happy about that.

When I was fifteen, I got pregnant.  It doesn't really matter how.

I tried to hide it, at first, but I assume I was too jumpy, too nervous.  My parents found out.  My parents freaked out.  They told me I had to do something about it.  Hills Like White Elephants and all that.

Mary went with me, she called in sick to school just to come with me.  She held my hand when I went in.  She hugged me when I came out crying.

I know it was the right thing to do.  I know that, objectively.  I couldn't have taken care of the baby.  I was probably still too small to give birth to it.  But....at the time, I was so convinced that I was failing her.  So utterly sure that I was just giving up on her before she even had a chance.  I wanted to at least give her up for adoption, but my parents....they wouldn't hear any of it.  I had to do something about it, they told me.

And now Tam is missing, and I'm pregnant again.

If he were here, we could have figured something out.  Maybe I could have stayed at home after graduating--it's not as though I was not thinking of taking time off from school anyway.

But now he's gone.  He's still gone.  There's still no sign of him.  The police are looking, but I don't believe they actually think they will find him.

...tomorrow, I think I will check his apartment.  I am a bit hesitant though.

Just after he went missing, when I called his roommate, he said something that made me think he was cheating on me.  He said, "He's not here, but he did get all those flowers you sent him."

I have never sent Tam any flowers.  I never would, except perhaps ironically.

At first, I thought they were from another woman (or possibly a man).  However, now I am wondering if they did not have something to do with his disappearance.  They make me...nervous, somehow.  Afraid, if you can believe that.  Me, afraid of some flowers.  Terrifying posies and horrible forget-me-nots.  If my fiance was not missing it would almost be hilarious.

Regardless, I will see what I can find tomorrow.  I hope...I hope I can find something.  I need to find something.

fuck not again.  not again.  not now.

if this was any other time this would't be so bad but not now, i can't handle this now.

fuck fuck fuck fuck

useless fucking university issued condoms

fuck

not while tam's missing

i would be fine with this if tam were here we would've figured something out

fuck fuck fuck

i don't know what to do now.

i'm not sure if i could stand getting another abortion.  i think it might kill me inside.

where are you tam?

tam please come back.

tam i need you right now.

please.  please, i can't do this alone.

Still no word

He's not here.

No one has  seen him.  He hasn't called or sent an email or anything.

I'm really worried.  It's been three days now.

An ugly part of me keeps telling me he's run away.  That he's eloped with someone new.  That he doesn't need poor, broken Ashleigh anymore.

I remember meeting him, in Anthro.  I was taking notes on my laptop, and he was sitting next to me, and glanced at my background and wrote me a note, "Rose is my favorite, too."  At first I just quietly nodded and blushed, but we talked after class, and he was so charming and funny and we went for coffee, and then I started opening up to him and he put up with all my bullshit, like ordering him to be my cherry plate.  I remember letting him fall asleep with his head in my lap, after he came home from his Grandma's funeral.  I remember going out to that big forest preserve and just running through the trees with him, and then we'd fall over, get up, and run and laugh some more.  I've never been happier than I have been with him.  Sometimes I wonder if I was even ever happy before I met him.

And now...now I can't sleep.  I can barely eat.  Even breathing seems difficult at times.

I'm going to try calling the police again tomorrow.

Tam....if you can read this.  Please, come home.  I love you.  If you've...done something, something that makes you have to leave, I forgive you.  I just want to know you're safe.

...and if someone's taken him, and they read this...

..bring him home.  Please.  I'd do anything to have him home.  I'd give anything for him to be safe.

Skipped classes again

The Ren Faire was fun, despite my best efforts to not enjoy myself.

When I cam home from it, though, I tried to call my fiance.  He didn't respond.  I waited a day and didn't get a call back.  He never so much as checked his email.

I know this because I am pathetic and stayed on Google all day. I know, it sounds clingy...but I was worried  something had happened to him.

I tried calling his housemate.  He said that my fiance had been out.  And then he said something...it's not important.  The point is, it made me think he'd been cheating on me, so that's when I posted that emo post.

But...he's still not home yet.

He hasn't been home.  He didn't pack anything.  All of his things are still at his house.  His professors haven't seen him--not any of the ones he talks to regularly.  His parents don't know.

I'm starting to get worried.

I know, it hasn't been that long.  I know I must sound needy and clingy and like some fragile little housewife, unable to live without her man.

But I love him.

And it's not like him to just vanish like this.

It was all going so well

Don't you hate it when a single sentence ruins your entire week?

Chicago is boring

So Erika, Mary, Justine (one of the few vaguely tolerable work friends Mary has), and I all went up to Taste of Chicago today. I decided to skip classes, though it turns out I just exchanged them for something about as extraordinarily dull. Just a bunch of food stands and some shitty bands playing occasionally. Apparently they cut funding for it or something and it was only half the size it has been. Oh well. At least I got an ice cream cone the size of my forearm out of the trip.

There was a bookstore nearby, so the day wasn't a complete waste of time and money. Erika and Mary are trying to drag me out to the ren faire up in Bristol this weekend. It's really not my thing. I tried to say I didn't have any garb, but Erika insists she can get something my size. So I may be going despite my protests.

It might be good to get out, though. I could use the sun, and the distraction. I haven't made up my mind yet. It's not like I'll have anything else to do this weekend, apparently.

I cannot fathom sleep

And so, I am here.  I have good news and bad news.

It's been half a week and my stalker in white is nowhere to be seen.  I'm assuming that my little wave scared him off.  I'm glad I didn't really have anything to worry about.  I hope I don't, at any rate.  Mary's told me that he could just be hiding better, or waiting for me to let my guard down again.  It's not the most pleasant thing to assume, but I don't think she's without merit in thinking it.  As much as I complain about her, she does have my best interests in mind.

The bad news is, I've still not seen much of my fiance this past week.  I want to strangle his professors.  Why does he have to do so much work over the summer?  It's summer!  This is one of the few remaining summers he has, but no, his professors insist that he must must must keep working on that damn thesis.  I know that he needs to do this to get his degree...but I miss him.

I must sound so pathetic.  I can hear my old gender studies professor using me as an example to the class as a poster child for antiquated views on gender roles in a relationship.  Look here at Ashleigh, she needs a man to feel content!  Her man leaves and she just wastes away in her apartment!

Well fuck that.  Tomorrow, after class, I am going to do something fun with Mary and possibly Erika as well.  I'll show that person who I haven't spoken to in two years what's what.

For now, however, sleep.

There was going to be a party

My very first comment.  I was so excited.  There was going to be cake and everything.  I hired a DJ, and we were going to have  pizza, and it was going to be absolutely wonderful.

I hope you feel happy for yourself, whoever you are that was, what, hitting refresh on my blog every ten minutes, waiting for me to post?  We had to throw the cake away, and the party clown went home crying.  How is he supposed to feed his wife and kids now?

From that other comment, it's some kind of code?  I don't know.  I don't know who would put something like that up, and I don't really care.

Probably one of Mary's idiotic friends.

Oh well, regardless, more about my day.

Erika did indeed come by while I was at work, and she stayed for my entire shift.  I'm not entirely dissuaded on the "she's attracted to me" front, though she did entertain herself when I was busy, so maybe she's just lonely, kind of like how I have been.  It's no secret that I'm not very personable.  When I say that Mary is my best friend, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that, beyond my fiance, she is my only friend.  It's good to have someone who's so instantly taken with me that they would sit around a coffee shop for four hours entertaining me.

I'm kind of excited for tomorrow.  I want to see if the man in white is back.  I sincerely hope I chased him off with my little wave.  If I haven't...maybe I'll go talk to him?  Of course, I won't do it alone.  I'll bring my fiance or Erika with me, and see if we can't find out what's going on.

Dear diary, today I made a friend

That is quite possibly one of the most pathetic things I have ever written.

I ended up going out to the bar with Mary and her friends.  They were all loud and obnoxious and I regretted being there almost instantly.  I don't drink, and the music hurt my ears, and every time Mary's work friends saw my engagement ring they cooed and said how lucky I was, and pulled my hand away from me to eye the stone jealously, and asked if we had a date set, and franky I just wanted to drown them all in their beer pitcher just to be free from their infernal questioning.

I was saved, however, when a young woman walked up to me, said I looked a bit out of sorts and possibly a little distressed, and saved me from the sudden intellectual drought I had found myself in.  At first, I think she was hitting on me, but eventually she saw that she was barking up two of the wrong trees, and she spoke to me as a friend.

We talked about music, and graphic novels, and Firefly, and Being Human, and Torchwood.  She was a bright step up from Mary, who whenever the subject of a show comes up, instantly switches the topic to the attractiveness of that show's male lead.  Yes, I agree with her choices, but it wears on a person.  Some of us graduated from middle school, and have more things to talk about than the opposite sex.

She's agreed to give me some company tomorrow as I slave away at the coffee shop.  It should be fun.

Mary's still whining about me not getting to know her friends better.  Sigh.  I'd better do something to reassure her she's still my best friend.

I can't wait to move

But more on that in a moment.  I had a breakthrough of sorts today.

On my way to classes, I turned to the man in white and waved at him.  He moved away as quickly as he could.  I didn't see him when I left class two hours later.  I'm sure he was absolutely mystified at my ability to suss him out in such ingenious camouflage.  Hopefully, that takes care of that problem.

When, after work, I finally made my way to my apartment, however, a new one made itself known.  One of the people who lives on my floor decided to make his presence known.

His constant amorous attention was cute, if pathetic, at first...but he's seldom failed to try to drag me into whatever manner of boring smalltalk he has on hand.  It's quickly become somewhat creepy and sad.  And I know it is amorous attention, because he gives the dirtiest looks to my fiance when he sees us together, and he thinks we're not looking.

I got him to shut up today, though, when I showed him my brand new ring.  He mumbled something about congratulations and then made his excuses and left.  I'll admit, it was cruel of me, but not without a delightful measure of satisfaction.

Still, I doubt it will last for long.  Both Mary and I are regular targets of his fumbling overtures, and we're both rather tired of them.  I can't wait until the day I can move in with my fiance.  It should just be the end of the summer.  We've agreed that it would probably be best if we both waited until we were both graduated before we moved in together, for the sakes of our grades if nothing else.

Speaking of my paramour, it looks as though I'm going to be a thesis widow this weekend.  I may go to a bar or something with Mary and  some of her work friends.  She's been trying to get me to go out for weeks, and I may as well humor her.  Who knows, I might meet some new friends in the process.

Perhaps my vanity is besting me

My fiance has offered to escort me to classes.  I've declined so far.  Maybe I'm just being vain.  He could just be standing there, watching everyone go past.  I doubt I'm quite so special as to deserve my very own stalker.  As long as he does nothing but watch, what is there really to fret about?  It's kind of flattering, really.

It's a blow to my pride to remember that I am not, in fact, at the center of the universe, but I'll endure, somehow.

Something unsettling has been happening

I'll postpone any of my usual ranting and raving and get straight to the point in a way that feels both wrong and profane.  I'll admit, I am a bit nervous about this.  I imagine my fiance is going to want to take some sort of action after hearing this, bless his testosterone-driven heart.

Over the past few days, while on campus, I have noticed someone watching me.

It has always been at a distance, but it has happened too often to be coincidence.

From what I can see, the person is dressed all in white.  Long white coat, a white hood of some kind over their head.  Yes, even in summer.  Yes, this person was getting odd looks, though they stayed mostly to the shadows.  I think it was a man but I can't be certain.

Maybe I should go to the campus police tomorrow?  This might just be a misunderstanding.  I do have a fairly regular pattern when at my classes.

I could also just wait it out.  My classes last only last until early August.  After that, I will have little reason to frequent that portion of the quad.  My only requirement to be on campus will be to go to work as a coffee slave, and I may not even keep at that job come the end of summer.

Perhaps I should invest in some pepper spray.  Just to be safe.

I hope my fiance doesn't do anything stupid when he hears about this.

Also

"Barista" appears to be a unisex term.  This seems emasculating.  I like it.

The world continues to turn

I am now a "barista".  This is an ancient spanish word, meaning "coffee slave".  It is an ancient and noble tradition, mostly consisting of me taking orders from people, preparing coffee, and absorbing verbal abuse when they inevitably accuse me of preparing the wrong beverage.

I have been informed I am not allowed to abuse back.  I believe this to be a gross violation of my human rights, and I shall be contacting Amnesty International at my earliest convenience.

Fool me six times

Mary and I have made up.  For some reason, I apologized for what I said.  She told me she would try harder to be more considerate and, apparently, I believed her.

Maybe I'm being too hard on her.  She has, occasionally, been there when I have needed her, including several very vital times.

It just seems as though the older we get, the less she gives and the more she asks.  I get so tired of it some days.

Maybe I should just make more friends.  Better friends, perhaps.

Perhaps I will make my  first ever label, "Bitching about Mary".

It's oddly liberating.  I'm taking a moment to absorb the grand splendor of the situation.

Help me

Oh god.

Dates everywhere.

Tell my laptop I loved it.

Well, now that the fanfare has died

So, now that everyone in the world knows that I'm engaged, back to History!

...

Kill me now, please.  Do it quickly.  Or slowly, so long as it takes less time than History Class.

Suck it, sis

WHO'S THE FAVORITE NOW, BITCH?

Prognosis

Yes.

Yes he indeed will.

And also, he has provided me with a simple gold band, upon which is a very impressive diamond.

I said yes.

But really, the cherry thing is more impressive.

I have no head for this

My final elective.  History.

I have no head for dates.  This would be why I have put this off for so long.  Oh well.  My comfort is that it won't be for much longer.  But the summer classes are just so...intensive.  I am learning a semester's worth of information in a month and a half.

I would much rather be sitting in bed, reading War of the Worlds and eating cherries off my boyfriend's stomach than sit here listening to the nigh endless tirade of wars and battles and months and years.

Oh well.  At least I have some solace in this fine theme. 

I wonder if he truly would let me eat cherries off his stomach.

I suppose there's only one way to find out.

This

This forever.

What

What do you mean I need to take another semester of history?

The bitter taste of angst

My best friend and I had a fight today.  I may have said a few things she will regret.  When I was in high school, I longed for the day when I would be free of the cloak and dagger ever-present in interactions with my fellows.  Oh, college, I thought, stars in my eyes and whimsy in my voice, surely that will be a freedom from petty bullshit and shrill, backstabbing shrieks.

No, unfortunately, people continue to be people, even in college.  Imagine my shock.

I suppose I should abbreviate this rant and get back to my other one.  A pity.

Have you ever met someone who takes something from you, without asking, without checking to see if maybe you needed it, and then doesn't tell you, and you spend the  entire day looking for it, and she says, "Oh, sorry,  I didn't think you would need it."

She keeps doing things like this.  I really should just stop being her friend, because sometimes it feels less like a friendship and more like being someone's cleverly composed series of alibis.  She only cares if I'm useful to her.

And somehow, she's still my best friend.  I am honestly flabbergasted by how utterly taken in with her I am.  I guess it's her charisma.  Parasite or not, she's oozing with it.

Well, at any rate, she may not be my friend anymore.  I'm not sure if I'm happy or sad about this.

Oh right, this thing

I hardly remembered this existed at all.  Oh well, once again, sweet Blogger, you wrest me from the grasp of procrastination.

Perhaps I should say something about myself?  Some tiny sliver of information about me?

Well, I'm graduating soon.  I have but one more summer class to go.  I haven't really thought of, say, grad school yet.  I have contemplated going on a trip, seeing the sights, or perhaps getting some lowly job for a year or so while I balance my priorities.

I am very bad at that.  Failure to balance priorities is why I'm finding myself one elective short at the end of my senior year.  And also how I ended up with a nine month long vacation and a two foot coffin. 

I have a boyfriend.  He's well trained.  Hardly ever messes on the carpet anymore.  He would also like to add that I hardly ever need to hit him with the newspaper anymore.  Still, I keep a spray bottle, full of water, just in case.

He doesn't want me to put his name on here.  I may anyway, when he's not paying attention.  I've asked him to make a blog so I will have a follower, but he refuses.  He says I should get a tumblr and leave this thing behind.

Maybe if I was one of the unwashed masses, she says, while fiddling with her smartphone and checking Homestuck.

Sigh, I should probably get back to doing whatever it is I should be doing.  My work is never done.

So I guess this is a thing now

Hey, I'm Ashleigh Torn.  Forgive the self-indulgent, pseudo-angsty title that sounds like it should be the name of a pop-punk band.  It's a holdover from my teenage years and, as bad as it is, I can't really bring myself to be rid of it.  My last name really is Torn, though.  And as I say my real name on the internet, thousands flock to stalk me, chasing me through the dorms like a modern day nymph, daring to catch a glimpse of my magnificent beauty.

Yes, pretty much that entire paragraph was sarcastic.  You should probably just assume that's the case from now on.

I'm mostly deciding to write this blog because it is conspicuously not writing my paper.  It's due on Friday, it's supposed to be 10k words, and thus far I have a very lovely two hundred fifty word introduction to show for all my hard work.

I probably won't post much on here.  Don't be surprised if it ends up being barely coherent rambling rants that don't go anywhere.  I am told those are my specialty.