irmit1a

[irmit1a]

If you are reading this, then the queue-function through the website finally kicked the post through. I gave myself some time to delay this message, just in case. Who knows? Maybe they would have let me come home without further incident. Since you are reading this, that is obviously not the case.

We all know that I do not have many friends here in Jersey. The one person who was outwardly friendly towards me ended up missing and I feel absolutely terrible. But I honestly do not believe that I did anything to warrant responsibility for Jessalyn’s disappearance. If anything, I have been trying and trying to help. But justice did not prevail. Maybe it’s better this way, behind bars, more or less. I no longer have to worry about choosing whether or not to take my medicine; they said they’ll make me take it there. I thought I was doing a lot better without it honestly. But I’m not the doctor.

My only friend here is gone and my entire family has long since passed. However lonely I am, I am extremely thankful for all of you, whether or not we spoke on sentimental and emotional terms, or you harassed me with pleas of twenty dollars.

Jeff, I am not spiteful. If there was any realized error on your part, I forgive you. However, I do not condemn you for your actions. You and Jessalyn shared a special love. You were completely in the right to do what you thought was best to help her. Obviously, I wasn’t clever enough myself to assist, only to harm. Everyone else, don’t take it out on him. I love Jessalyn, too. I know what he was trying to do. There was no way for him to know if I was being honest or not. Especially considering the gravity of the lie that was born when I told you all the story of my family and my journey up here.

The location was true. My education was true. The fact that my family wound up killed was true. But I wasn’t entirely descriptive and I will never feel reconciled with this feeling of dishonesty. That day, when I said that I arrived home from school to a half-acre of ash… wasn’t entirely accurate. I came home from my classes and everything was normal. My family’s house was older and relatively sizable. Made of fine, decaying lumber. Easily combustible. Upon setting foot within the threshold, I immediately felt something in the air. Something was terribly off. The house was silent. No sound from my siblings, no familiar clicking of my mother tending in the kitchen, no sound of shuffling from desk-to-shelf in my father’s study. And then I saw the bags.

Through the large sliding glass door, I saw them all, each strung from the old ash tree in the center of the backyard. I… I opened each one. I just had to be sure; you would understand. I was covered in a bit more and more of my family with each inquiry. I took the opened bags and went upstairs into my parent’s master bedroom and laid down on the gigantic bed. I placed each of the bags around me, resting one last time with my family. The bags that still held their contents bulged towards me in a comforting embrace.

I saw myself in the mirror. Perhaps my body was still in shock because I wasn’t crying, not yet. I was drenched in the blood of my siblings and parents and I couldn’t feel anything. I knew He did this to me. The one I had been seeing in my dreams since I was a baby. He wanted me out of the house. I don’t know why, but He willed me elsewhere. I burned my house. I set the fire. I don’t care who knows anymore because by this time, I’m sure they would have coerced this confession from me. By this time, I will have been (accurately) proven guiltyGUILTYGUILTYGUILTY.

I was alone and He told me to go north. There wasn’t any time for mourning. Hell, another plus of being institutionalized: I have all the time I want to cry now. And He can’t touch me.

I’m sorry, Jeff. I’m sorry, Vincent. I’m sorry Evan. Most of all, I’m sorry, Jessalyn. I’m sorry, “HYBRIDs” (still can’t get past the nickname). I’ve brought this upon myself. Maybe we’ll speak again someday. Probably not. Don’t follow my footsteps.

 Be not like me. I am alone.  

[irmit1a]

This is supposed to be a drink we made.. Ends up looking like vomit and taste like shit with watermelon.

[irmit1a]

Just a picture of.. Someone