You know, it's the funniest fucking thing when your daughter who isn't really your daughter has more balls to try and do something than you. And her pet copper decides to take her side of the argument one night so you have to drag the stupid shit outta the room by his ear and argue with him like you're a married couple.

Hell, maybe this is why those moms around the neighborhood have been giving us odd looks, hehe.

But whatever, that's beside the point. The point is that I still can't fucking remember what happened during that time Cathy and I were missing. I have no idea why she's a minion for it now. I don't know how we got out of the goddamn forest. And I sure as hell don't know why I was lying in a warehouse with it suddenly looming in the corner acting like it was gonna kill me this time for sure.

Fuck I don't even know how the hell I got away. It could have killed me and I'm not stupid enough to think it was my own amazing agility that got me away. It fucking let me go like it's been letting me go for eleven years. Eleven. Goddamn. Years.

So what, I'm just some fucking hilarious toy that just never stops being fun to mess with? I guess that's it cause' there's no other way to explain how I survived this thing haunting me during my teenage years and then stalking me and using me during my thirties. I mean, fuck, I turn forty this week. I haven't even thought about my birthday for years and out of the blue Cynthia mentions that Simon's is in December and I remember that my birthday is November 5th. I didn't have time to think about birthdays when I was on the run. Honestly I fucking thought every year would be the year that my "luck" finally ran out and I'd kick the bucket.

Now look at me: one of the oldest goddamn runners that I know, alone and miserable, living with some traffic-cop-fbi-wannabe and my unrelated daughter who doesn't even seem to really like me at all, and wondering when that thing will just come and put me out of my misery.

I've been through hell and fuck sometimes I wish it would end. I'm old. Got gray hairs coming in fast and joints creaking. I have too many scars- thanks to that Elijah fucker and other minions like him- to let me walk through town without people looking at me suspiciously. I lost a fucking eye and got some nice marks all over my face that make me look like I'm sneering all the time. I've broken so many bones that one of my hands is twisted in some crippled position. On bad days I can only limp around cause my right leg fucking kills me. Back pains, bone pain, fucking my whole body hurts pain.

I guess this is just a game to that thing. See how long Tony can withstand this torture, how long his body can take the hurt. I can't keep going like this. One day I'm not gonna be strong enough to survive the next minion attack or I'll just fucking let that thing rip me to shreds.

It'd be so fuckin' easy, y'know? But then I got my little daughter-who-looks-like-a-son telling me she's gonna play hero and run off to find her mommy and she's fucking eleven years old and I just have to keep going. I gotta find a way to make sure she's safe from everything that could hurt her before I call it quits. Goddamn I just wanna delete this stupid blog. Everything got worse cause' I made it. If I just hadn't stolen that one teenagers itouch-pod-thing then maybe all of this wouldn't happen. Or maybe Cathy and Cynthia would be dead- I don't even fucking know anymore.

Time has gotten real jumbled for me. My memories are fading or mixing cause' of all the mind fucking I've experienced over the last...entirety of my life. Sometimes I wake up thinking it's a different year, that I'm somewhere else and I gotta kill someone. I mean hell, I'm even forgetting basic functions sometimes. There's only so much a mind can be messed with before it breaks too. The other day I forgot how to work the toaster. Laugh it up because yeah, it's a goddamn toaster. But for the life of me my brain stopped working and I just stood there holding a piece of bread in one hand and staring in frustration at the stupid thing cause' my body wouldn't move and my mind wouldn't work it out and tell it how to move. Simon did it for me.

I'm falling apart. I don't have much time left. I need to find out how to get Cynthia safe soon cause' I don't know how much more I can take. Shit, it sounds depressing and yeah I just ranted to some idiot kids on the fucking internet but I don't even care at this point. I just wanna make everything better for my daughter. That's all I want.