DEAD MAN WALKING.NET

I apologize for my absense and I really appreciate all of the e-mails I have been receiving, and I know many of you were concerned about my wellbeing. Quite a lot has happened recently, as I will now explain.

A few days after my last blog entry, I relocated. I feel I had become too familiar with the people in the apartment building, so I had to get out. I now live a few blocks away, and will be making sure I keep myself to myself 100%.

I have given it a little thought and have decided I will soon be be opening up Dead Man Walking to private advertising in a bid to boost revenue, having already received some very nice offers to do so. I will post more on this in the coming days along with information on how you can advertise your website here.

Also coming will be a range of special customized Dead Man Walking merchandise such as T-Shirts, Posters and Mugs which will be for sale in the merchandise section.

At the time of writing I have 56 days remaining, and will be trying with all my might to conjure up this money before my time runs out.

If God loves me, he can buy a T-Shirt.

Today I’m depressed. Yesterday I called my two daughters and talked to them, and wished my eldest a happy birthday. It was really hard hearing their voices and it’s tearing me apart to think that I may never see them again under normal circumstances.

I also went to my neighbors birthday party - coincidently, she shares the same birthday as my daughter - which, despite everything, was fun. I met more people from the apartment building, and being the new guy I was made to feel welcome. It almost seemed like it was my party, not that my neighbor cared; she seemed to be more interested in me than she was in her own birthday party.

Although I had to tell a lot of lies about myself and my personal life, I was still me, so I didn’t feel so dishonest. I made the decision not to stay for too long so I didn’t get in too deep, but what I did experience made me feel like a real person again for the first time since I went into hiding, which is another reason I’m depressed.

I simply can’t allow myself to become involved. No matter how much I want a regular life now, I know I can’t have one. There is still a very strong chance that I’m going to have to go into the federal Witness Protection Program very soon, so what’s the point in making friends and a life I can’t keep?

It’s just not fair. I’m doing everything I can but it’s just such a struggle and it’s still not enough. I’m holding down a job which I get paid cash for, I’m on elance.com taking on all the web design projects I can and I’m trying to make this blog earn more money… I just wonder how much longer I can keep this up before I face what looks to be the inevitable and call the FBI?

Today I did something very stupid and broke the first and most important rule a guy like me must follow: Avoid becoming involved with anyone.

The first thing you learn when you are on the run is to keep yourself to yourself. This is something I have done ever since I went into hiding and is the most important rule to follow. This comes at the expense of developing friendships and relationships, but it’s a sacrifice which must be made. Your guard must remain up and your secrets must remain secret.

Familiarity is a bad thing, but that is what comes of greater interaction. With familiarity comes the requests for your company to socialize and you potentially open yourself up to a whole lot of awkward questions or situations.

Well, I’ve just broken this golden rule. Tonight I ran into a woman who lives in an apartment down the hall from mine who I’m on speaking terms with. Really nothing more than ‘hello, good morning, how are you?’ that kind of thing. Well, I’ve just found myself accepting an invitation to her birthday party she’s having in a couple of days in her apartment with others from the building. This is exactly the kind of situation I’ve been trying to avoid but I was caught completely off guard. You know, one of them conversations where you basically tell the other person your available without realizing and before you know it - it’s too late and you have no excuse to say no… Jeez.

She’s a nice person and I would have felt like a nasty sonovabitch saying no but now I can’t back out because the last thing I need is to become known as the resident jerk-off and have negative attention on me. Maybe I’m worrying too much, but I have to be real careful. I had also better make sure I have some pre-conceived answers to the usual questions: Where I’m from, what do I do, that kind of thing.

I should’ve been sharper, but it’s too late this time. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Life on the run can really screw you up. These past few days have been tough for me, real tough. I still have a long way to go and time is running out for me as every day I spend in hiding on my own becomes more and more dangerous.

I’ve been so wrapped up in trying to get money that I almost forgot that my eldest daughters birthday is just around the corner, which made me feel like a terrible father. Thankfully I did remember in time and have sent her a present and I’ll be dropping a dime to tell her I love her and wish her happy birthday in a couple of days. I just wish I could have been there…

I’m on the ropes but I refuse to give in. I won’t let these bastards win. The Mafia is no match for a fathers love for his children.

Ever since I was attacked by the Mafia’s enforcers I have had a recurring nightmare which usually leaves me sitting bolt upright in my bed in a cold sweat. Last night I had this same dream again, however this one was even more terrifying as my mind has found even more ways to torment me.

Usually at the point my arm is smashed I wake up. This time, I woke up - but only in my dream, because at the point I usually sit upright, a Mafia hitman burst through my door with a gun and before I could shout for help, he shot me in my head. As you may well imagine, this dream was even more terrifying as it seemed so real to me. I guess it’s going to be a long time before I’m no longer haunted by whats happening, and I certainly don’t expect to begin recovering while I’m still in hiding.

On the plus side, I guess the old saying that if you die in your dreams you die for real ain’t true, at least not for me.

Anyway, bad dreams aside I’ve been working on a couple of things I’m going to be adding in the near future, so watch this space.

It’s been a long, long day and after hours I’ve finally managed to (somewhat) install my new blogging software which I’m hoping is going to make my life a little easier. It’s altered my old timestamps but that’s a small price to pay in the long run. At least it’s on, and besides the odd tweak here and there I’m expecting everything to be running smoothly now. My apologies to people who’ve been trying to access the blog today, everything should be working as it should now.

Time to try and get some sleep ready for tomorrow.

I’ve never been a great sleeper, but this is insomnia on a whole new level. Lying there hour after hour feeling exhausted but you just can’t sleep is one of the worst feelings in the world and I’d give anything to be able to sleep properly again, I really would. I just don’t think until I’m home free that I’ll be able to, and I just dread to think what my health will be like another three months from now - providing I make it that long.

Prelude:

As I sit here in my darkened apartment at around 2:00AM, my eyes are tired and strained, and my fingers are beginning to struggle to find the correct keys under the dim light of the computer screen. It has been the longest and most terrifying few months of my life, and tonight I have added the finishing touches to a project which I know is going to be my only real chance of ending this nightmare.

I’ve sat here many an hour, usually when I can’t sleep and peer out of my grimy, streaky apartment window onto the New York City streets and I find it difficult to come to terms with what is happening in my life right now. It’s almost like the same streets which birthed and nurtured me have turned into a dark and mysterious monster set on reclaiming me before my time - or at least, before I’m ready.

Divorced for around 5 years, my ex-wife and my two children now live across the country, and I have lived alone in New York City ever since. After the break up, I felt so alone that when I eventually got used to it, I thought the whole experience had rendered me impervious to feelings of loneliness forevermore. Little did I know of the even greater depths of isolation and loneliness which were destined to greet me 5 years on. I have never felt so alone and so scared in my entire life as I do now, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.

On my first ‘unofficial’ day on the run (I am not in the federal Witness Protection Program, I am on my own therefore nothing is really ‘official’), for a brief moment when I woke, before my brain engaged and my eyes adjusted to the then-unfamiliar apartment, I’d forgotten what had happened to me, where I was, and who I was running from. I can honestly say, that was the only moment of true peace of mind I have had in the past couple of months since I ‘disappeared’. Of course, this lasted only seconds before the searing pain of my shattered arm returned, accompanied by an almost overwhelming fear and panic: ‘OH GOD, WHAT THE HELL AM I GONNA DO?’

It’s amazing how you can come to miss the smallest, simplest of things in life so much. Things you’ve taken for granted and never truly been grateful for until they are eroded or taken completely. What I miss most is the freedom to walk down the street without looking over my shoulder and without the constant accompanying fear and knowledge that somewhere - perhaps just around each corner - there are people out there with orders to bring my life to a violent and abrupt end. Even the freedom, or birthright, to be able to hold out my hand to another human being and say: ‘Hi, my name is…’ without having to give a false name and feel insincere because I’ve lied to them about who I really am. I find it quite hard to explain this feeling, but I think a persons name has so much to do with who they are, that upon trying to become another person - even in name - it’s almost like losing a part of who you are… and I hate it.

For the past few months, I have been forced to use pseudonyms to protect my real identity, and the people who ‘know’ me in the flesh, know me by a different name to the one I am giving you, for obvious reasons. Although, unlike you, they know absolutely nothing of who I really am, my problems with the Mafia and my ‘real-life’, so when it comes down to it, you know me more than any person who sees me in the flesh, who chats to me in the apartment building, on the street, at the store, and so on. Continue reading »