Going forward.

I've been woolgathering.  Thinking about old friends, friends who may or may not exist, family that shouldn't. I spent three months in a psychiatric institution to find out when I got out that it had only been about a month. Time itself has started to lose any meaning, and that's more frightening than it should be. I've survived thus far, but I don't know how much I have left. I never do. I grow weary of running constantly. So very, very weary.

I'm going to try to talk about my family, my friends, but that'll be some time away. I need to take a little bit and try to recover. Going to find a place to hole up again for a week or so.

Wish me luck.

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A Belated Introduction (One of Three)

There are a lot of things I don't understand about this place. About the universe as a whole, and my place in it. The fact that I'm even thinking about this, thinking about it now, or really, ever, should put a few other things into perspective. I'm homeless, pushed to the brink of existence, and I don't even really want to fucking be here. But it's not like I have a choice in the matter at all anyway. Looking back on things, I haven't had a choice in what I do, or where I go, in at least a year and a half. I should have seen that when Nick went missing. But I was blinded by other things, and now I've really fucked things up.

But you know what? I'm done running from the past, from the things that my family has brought down upon me. I'm done lurking in the shadows while the Traitor openly flaunts his abilities. He should be dead, and goddamn it, I'll fix that hole in reality when I have him in my hands. For now, however, an introduction, so you can finally get to know me, the me who has been writing in this blog for over a year now, the me who has been hunting and hunted for almost a year.

Hello. My name is Jackson Toth.

Now, this is where it's going to start sounding strange. My name, the one on my birth certificate, is Jackson Peter Toth. But I've been living as John Morgan for almost six months now. I've felt like I had to. It's kept me one or two steps ahead of those who would chase me, and it's kept me alive. But I can feel it. I can feel the protection running out. So here, I cast away the glamour and stop hiding.

I have two sets of memories. There's really no way to break that easily. I've been here long enough that I can remember, vividly, two different childhoods. When terrorists attacked New York City ten years ago, I remember being in two different places, two different schools. Never in my life (or lives) have I only had one set of memories. And yet, even considering that, it still gets stranger. I have a brother, Nicholas Toth. Or, had a brother. I'm not sure. He may have been dead for a little over a year now, despite his posting on this very blog. (Which I'm not sure should exist, to be honest.) Even still, that brother only appears in one set of my memories. In the other, which, remember, is just as clear and "true" as the other set, he never existed, and I was an only child.

I'm not sure how this works. I just don't fucking get it. And I don't really want to.

...this cannot be happening.

After all this time? I lost the fucking thing?

Goddamnit. This casts a whole layer of doubt on everything I've had to deal with over the past year. Six months. Two years. Whatever it's been. I can't trust anything I see anymore.

Fine. I've waited this long to try to tell my story, and I've got nothing at all. So there will be answers, and they'll be coming soon. I've only waited this long to mention it because I'm doing the best I can to stay away from that tall bastard. I'm just not ready to deal with him just yet.

Until the next time,

Jackson Toth

As a Form of Answer

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