I have got to be the stupidest person alive.

My last post, I was pretty worked up.  I never really talked to Ryan much, being a little wary due to his being a Proxy and my being a Runner, but he was still someone I'd probably consider a friend, if only because of his bond to Lucia, who I have been talking to quite often.  So to hear that he'd been killed?  Rage fuel.

Granted, my 'rage' is pretty damn pathetic, but it is apparently enough to make me take a run at the fucking Operator.

...maybe I should back up a bit.

Saturday morning, when I found out, I made this post.  I was pissed.  None of what happened was even remotely close to fair.  I figured I could go do something about that.

Thankfully, I had some sense slapped (commented?) into me by Ben and Whitecrow.  Going to Pittsburgh would really only put one more person in harm's way:  me.  And since I never got my degree from Necromancer University and my Tardis doesn't work anymore, I can't do anything to 'fix' what's happened.  I'm no fighter.  I'm no healer.  I'm no Chronomancer.  I'm really just low-level cannon fodder, to put it bluntly.  I didn't want anyone to feel responsible if anything happened to me because I was too stupid to realize my limits.

But even though I knew what I planned was foolish, I was still angry.  Some of that anger was just directed at myself, for being weak.  Too.  Damn.  Weak.  Worst of all, I know that the time I'm spending screwing around in Skyrim or Saint's Row III could be spent fixing that problem.  I could be learning some martial art, or at least working out.  Godforbid I lift a few weights once in a while.

So when he showed up on my way to church on Sunday, acting all Slendery?  Well, it wasn't pretty.  Imagine the sequence in EverymanHYBRID where Evan charges the Slender Man with a baseball bat.  Now take away the baseball bat and imagine a girlishly long-haired, thin, scrawny, pale kid instead of...well, Evan.  Imagine said long-haired, thin, scrawny, pale kid in a vest and tie crumpling to the ground no fewer than ten feet away from the Operator.  All because of the fucking headache.  Finally, imagine the nearly-horizontal long-haired, thin, scrawny, pale kid actually trying to crawl toward the Operator, not away.  For shits and giggles, add in a few ponies fighting Godzilla in the background.

Yes, it was a fail of epic proportions.  And for some reason, the Blank didn't decide I was too stupid to live and simply stared at me, head cocked until I passed out.  I woke up at about noon, on my own front lawn, still wearing my vest and tie, with a little trickle of blood running out the corner of my mouth.  Upon further inspection once I got inside, I found my ears had bled, too.

So now I've calmed down considerably, and I've unpacked.  I really can't afford to make another stupid mistake like that.  The fact that I couldn't even get close to the lanky bastard is doing nothing for my self-image.  Again, though, I'm simply glad I'm no longer getting nauseous when in close proximity to the Slender Man.  The headaches are a lot more manageable, in my opinion.