I'm Alive, Guys.

First of all, I’m really sorry that I haven’t been around lately. I’ve just been trying to figure this stuff out. I’ve been kind of throwing myself into both my jobs in order to keep my mind off it, but…I can’t help being confused.

Yesterday, when I was heading to work, there was a huge, thick fog from my place at least all the way down into town. It sounds inconsequential—I mean, it’s just early-morning mist—but I’ve never seen anything as bad as this fog. Was it just odd Maryland weather, or was it him?

And that mysterious post on this very blog. Did Rose manage to sneak away when I managed to get a wink of sleep that night? I recognize the actual phrasing itself; it’s a T.S. Eliot quote. Specifically, it’s from “Grizabella,” a poem that he deemed too sad to go into Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats, but that made it into Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical based on the book, Cats. I’m a theatre geek, and Rose loves music; Cats was one of our favorite movies to watch together. Is this significant? Is Rose trying to tell me something? Or was it Rose at all?

Is it possible that the bastard was able to get to my blog and post that? Can he even use a computer? And if he did, how did he manage to know something so personal to Rose and me?

Questions like these have been plaguing me since that night. Oh, and here’s another: I haven’t seen him since Rose’s bedroom. Why? They say he only shows up to people he wants. Why hasn’t he started following me yet?

Does it have something to do with Rose’s journal? I don’t know. I haven’t so much as opened the thing yet. Every time I get close to it, some voice in my head screams at me not to do it, not to be another Logan Renault. I’ve read Logan Renault’s blog—that happened only last year.

Maybe there are answers in the notebook. Does that mean I want to dive right in? Hell no.

I’m calling Vi today to talk to her; we’ve only really texted since Monday. I hope she’s doing better with this than I am.