... where am I ?
I am 'in transition' at the moment, a kind of limbo.
I know that I have left my old life, I felt the pain as I did so - the pull of a soul leaving its' home, so to speak.
And I greatly fear the place that I know I am bound for - that purgatory of confusion 'over there'.
... yet for now I feel calm and soothed. I feel as if I am somewhere that I am valued, and cared for. I feel at home here. If only I could somehow avoid reaching the other side, and stay here forever.
True, the voices still trouble me, but it doesn't seem so bad when I'm here.
... nothing is as bad when I'm here.
27 October, 2005
20 October, 2005
... it's happening
... it's happening. We're finally crossing over.
The drained looks on everyone's faces, the sense of finality in the air; damn it, the sense of hopelessness. They all spell the end.
I've spent the last fee days trying to find religion, some certainty in where I'm likely to end-up once this dread plague is ended - but to no avail. Those touting snippets of hope are more often than not simply vampires who drain you of what energies you have left in your tired and aching form. I think that I met a kindly priest today... but maybe that's just another trick that he's pulled no me? Maybe... I don't know myself anymore.
The others still communicate with us regularly - unless I just think I hear them now.
Maybe that'll end when we leave this place for good?
We can only hope that our passing is a painless affair.
... but we fear what will be there to greet us on the 'other side'.
The drained looks on everyone's faces, the sense of finality in the air; damn it, the sense of hopelessness. They all spell the end.
I've spent the last fee days trying to find religion, some certainty in where I'm likely to end-up once this dread plague is ended - but to no avail. Those touting snippets of hope are more often than not simply vampires who drain you of what energies you have left in your tired and aching form. I think that I met a kindly priest today... but maybe that's just another trick that he's pulled no me? Maybe... I don't know myself anymore.
The others still communicate with us regularly - unless I just think I hear them now.
Maybe that'll end when we leave this place for good?
We can only hope that our passing is a painless affair.
... but we fear what will be there to greet us on the 'other side'.
14 October, 2005
... they're taking us apart
... they're taking us apart, piece by piece. They're doing their utmost to remove any trace that we were ever really here. It seems that soon we'll be little more than a slightly uncomfortable memory for some, or an ice-breaking story for others ("..of course, in my last company we were laid waste by a pestilence from the very bowels of..."); but never as a place of warm camaraderie and gentle humour.
I shall always endeavour to think of it as such.
As the cabinets rumble and crash about me I can sense that a real end to this place is coming. A finality of sorts is in the air, carried in the words of the destroyers that surround me, and on the faces of my weary colleagues, my co-conspirators; my fellow survivors.
I am certain, and it is with a certainty that grips at my very soul with fingers as cold and lifeless as the grave, that we don't have long here.
We'll be passing over to the 'other place' very soon.
I shall always endeavour to think of it as such.
As the cabinets rumble and crash about me I can sense that a real end to this place is coming. A finality of sorts is in the air, carried in the words of the destroyers that surround me, and on the faces of my weary colleagues, my co-conspirators; my fellow survivors.
I am certain, and it is with a certainty that grips at my very soul with fingers as cold and lifeless as the grave, that we don't have long here.
We'll be passing over to the 'other place' very soon.
12 October, 2005
... they continue to taunt us
... they continue to taunt us; even though they have left this place their presence is still an unpleasantness that we seem unable to shake.
Their voices can be heard incessantly throughout the day, as I sit at my desk: and they are always demanding voices, or challenging voices - never kind.
And this is making it harder for those who remain to start to come to terms with what we've been through recently, and to start thinking about moving on.
I still feel drained much of the time; and torn between endeavours that had been taken from me, and those which remain. As though the other me, this doppleganger, isn't pulling their weight somehow. I'm caught in some kind of half-life; split between my ordinary existence here, and some sick mockery of my previous self 'down there' like some form of continual suffering.
... and I'm not sure that I can see an end to this.
One of the initial survivors of last week has disappeared ! He was seen fleeing the premises on Monday night, burdened with great boxes of supplies & archaic machinery. I fear that he may have some half-baked notion to enter the belly of the beast, and confront the cause of our suffering.
our thoughts go with him, and we pray for his safe return.
Their voices can be heard incessantly throughout the day, as I sit at my desk: and they are always demanding voices, or challenging voices - never kind.
And this is making it harder for those who remain to start to come to terms with what we've been through recently, and to start thinking about moving on.
I still feel drained much of the time; and torn between endeavours that had been taken from me, and those which remain. As though the other me, this doppleganger, isn't pulling their weight somehow. I'm caught in some kind of half-life; split between my ordinary existence here, and some sick mockery of my previous self 'down there' like some form of continual suffering.
... and I'm not sure that I can see an end to this.
One of the initial survivors of last week has disappeared ! He was seen fleeing the premises on Monday night, burdened with great boxes of supplies & archaic machinery. I fear that he may have some half-baked notion to enter the belly of the beast, and confront the cause of our suffering.
our thoughts go with him, and we pray for his safe return.
V : 2 / F : 22 / MIA : 1
10 October, 2005
... the office is a wasteland
... the office is a wasteland this morning. The long walk down through the departments is a deeply disturbing journey, glimpsing the odd startled face peeping out from behind the wreckage of their desk, or a pile of boxes.
Every eye you meet mirrors exactly your own feelings, your own insecurities, your own guilt.
Every eye pleading with you for the answer to that one simply question... "why me?, why was I spared the blight ?"
But all of these faces turn away in fear as you make those last final steps into this department. Few seem to dare cross the threshold, to journey beyond the post trays: few can bare to face the sight of so many empty desks.
... so many lost people.
Every eye you meet mirrors exactly your own feelings, your own insecurities, your own guilt.
Every eye pleading with you for the answer to that one simply question... "why me?, why was I spared the blight ?"
But all of these faces turn away in fear as you make those last final steps into this department. Few seem to dare cross the threshold, to journey beyond the post trays: few can bare to face the sight of so many empty desks.
... so many lost people.
V : 2 / F : 22
07 October, 2005
... we lost people today
... we lost people today, from the office. We lost too many good people.
The day began oddly, with a strange atmosphere about the place. We all tried to carry on as if nothing was happening - but we knew what was going on. We knew what was coming.
At one point in the day some of us flocked around a recently gathered supply of food and wine, and started to gorge ourselves, as if this could ever be expected to stave off the inevitable: some of us just lost a little more of our dignity around that table, that's all. I'm not proud of the number of pastries I ate today; but I guess that's just something that I will have to learn to live with.
Once the final effects of the Sllennoc disease had begun to take hold the damned amongst us drifted aimlessly from the office, looking for some form of solace in the unwelcoming mid-afternoon haze of a busy city.
The busy city seemed only to offer up alcohol & garlic for comfort.
... and these poor souls accepted such meager offerings with glad hearts.
I wish them peace, as their encounter with the dread canker has finally ended.
... and I wonder what horrors will await me, on Monday morning, in the Office of the Dead.
The day began oddly, with a strange atmosphere about the place. We all tried to carry on as if nothing was happening - but we knew what was going on. We knew what was coming.
At one point in the day some of us flocked around a recently gathered supply of food and wine, and started to gorge ourselves, as if this could ever be expected to stave off the inevitable: some of us just lost a little more of our dignity around that table, that's all. I'm not proud of the number of pastries I ate today; but I guess that's just something that I will have to learn to live with.
Once the final effects of the Sllennoc disease had begun to take hold the damned amongst us drifted aimlessly from the office, looking for some form of solace in the unwelcoming mid-afternoon haze of a busy city.
The busy city seemed only to offer up alcohol & garlic for comfort.
... and these poor souls accepted such meager offerings with glad hearts.
I wish them peace, as their encounter with the dread canker has finally ended.
... and I wonder what horrors will await me, on Monday morning, in the Office of the Dead.
V : 2 / F : 22
06 October, 2005
... chairs are starting to move
...chairs are starting to move about the office, with strange markings appearing on some of the more comfortable ones; I suspect that the others are up to some mischief.
And the atmosphere about the place is one of finality. I'm certain that soon I shall have to say my final farewells to a dozen or more colleagues with whom I have shared my life over the last few years.
I believe that this time will come tomorrow.
And the most regrettable thing is probably not the sheer waste of humanity that I shall witness, nor the way in which this hideous plague has attacked us; but rather it is the sad fact that, with everyone here trying their utmost to ignore the awfulness of our day-to-day situation over the last couple of months and just get their work done regardless, we have not taken the time to truly appreciate each other - and the enjoyment that working together has so often given us.
...they have even taken that from us.
And now I fear that it is too late.
And the atmosphere about the place is one of finality. I'm certain that soon I shall have to say my final farewells to a dozen or more colleagues with whom I have shared my life over the last few years.
I believe that this time will come tomorrow.
And the most regrettable thing is probably not the sheer waste of humanity that I shall witness, nor the way in which this hideous plague has attacked us; but rather it is the sad fact that, with everyone here trying their utmost to ignore the awfulness of our day-to-day situation over the last couple of months and just get their work done regardless, we have not taken the time to truly appreciate each other - and the enjoyment that working together has so often given us.
...they have even taken that from us.
And now I fear that it is too late.
V : 2 / F : 2
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