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I know I've been lax in journal entries, and I do feel terrible about it. Let's just say things have been a whirlwhind of emotion that I'm no longer sure I knwo how to deal with. It's been nearly two weeks since Rupert has been in his right mind. That's right... Mitchell has taken over his body. This is the longest it's ever been in my prescense, and I wonder if it's happened for good. Nothing I do, fight, talk, submit to Mitchell seems to bring the man I love back into that face I know.

I've been seeking comfort elsewhere. At the fest with friends. With Vito, my newest friend. I won't explain, I probably don't need too. Nobody knows the whole truth, yet, anyway, not even Vito. Or Hasami. They both are too smart too know how dangerous Mitchell is, and I'm not quite ready to give up on him yet, I cling to a hope that Rupert will come back, no matter how many times Mitchell hurts me. On the outside, I'm normal. It's becoming an easy game to play, being normal, lying that everything's alright. Vito's made me break down once already, Hasami can do the same, so I'm avoiding them while despertly seeking their comfort, their human contact, at the same time. A destructive tendency, I know. I feel like for Rupert's sake, I can't tell anyone the whole truth, but I'm dying here. All this time without human contact, a friendly touch or glance. Mitchell's words only hurt, his touch stings when he hits. Sooner or later Mitch will lose it and try to kill me, or I'll lose it and break down and finally let someone know how deep I'm truly in. But for now, I just pretend that all's well, play comforter to those in pain like me, maybe more pain. I worry about Chai especially, my newest, dearest friend. It's easier to worry about others than yourself, I think. And I believe Chai plays the same game.

On the plus side, the weather has been turning colder fast. Fall is here, and I don't remember it's arrival, and already it's moving fast into winter. I've been treating myself to soup lately at the on-campus sandwhich shop a lot lately. Beef stew, Broccolli cheese soup, french-onion, tomato. My nanny used to make me soup all the time, and it reminds me of home, thoughts I haven't let myself think of in too long. Sometimes it's the little things in life. When I'm sitting there inside, watching the cold wind blow outside, eating my soup with my french-bread for dipping, just me and a good book or my script, I feel like the rest of the world drops away.

I've gotto run. Amazingly, I've managed to keep my promise and have stayed in school. I've kept my part in the play until now, and I'll be damned if I lose it now because of Mitchell after I've tried so hard. Funny, the game of pretend comes so easy now, so very easy... I think sometimes I've convinced myself nothing is wrong after all.