( colligo ¬ get collected ) → network.

This place gets more fucked up by the hour.

You all know you're losing it, right?

I just want to get some sleep.

God my head hurts.

I swear to God, if I see one more person walking down the street whimpering like a little girl or whining on this stupid network about how they're so afraid, I'm going to fucking hurl. Grow a pair and get the hell over it.

She's gone. One minute she was here and now she's just gone. And even if I make it back, I won't see her again. Won't be able to hold her, won't be able to do more than say goo

Screw it. I'm going to the b

What the fuck? One moment I am arrested in a cop car and the next i'm stuck here. A wonderful place where it seems everyone is going crazy. No offense but anyone know where the hell I am, or what's going on?

PLEASE HELP IMMEDIATELY:

My name is Mary Jane Watson-Parker. My last location was at the Budget Motel at the intersection of Avenue M and Harding in Flatlands, Brooklyn. My purse is GONE. I have six bucks, a lipstick, a frequent-shopper card from Starbucks, and my cell from my pockets. I don't know where I am and I was given this palm pilot thing.

I am trying to locate my husband: his name is Peter Benjamin Parker. Recently came out as Spider-Man to the general public on national television. His face is probably familiar. About 5'10", age thirty-one, brown hair, hazel eyes, skinny but muscular build, was last seen in Spider-Man costume without mask. He may or may not have the mask but is most likely in street clothes. Tends to wear jeans and t-shirts, sometimes with oxford shirts worn unbuttoned, sweatshirts, etc. Sneakers. May or may not have glasses. He also may or may not have his aunt, May Parker, with him. She may or may not be alive. She's elderly, gray hair, green eyes, was last wearing a hospital gown and sporting a gunshot wound in the chest. There is also a possibility that she is just fine and said Peter Parker has a) no idea who I am, b) no recollection of the last seven to ten years, c) knowledge of who I am but no knowledge we were ever married. If you find a Peter Parker in this condition, I still need to locate him.

Please, if anyone reads this, whoever you are, message me back through this network. My cell is (212) 555-6408 but I've got no signal. E-mails: fivetocurtain212@gmail.com or maryjane-watson@halliwell-agencies.com but I can't access either site. Even if you have no information of my husband or his aunt, please provide me with any knowledge or information about the area.

Well, this is fantastic. Logan's gone now too. I keep seeing the goddamn freak show who sent me to an early death everywhere I go and I'm out of vodka.

Anyone know anything about these hallucinations because I'm getting a little sick of Aaron Echolls calling me a whore and trying to bash my head in... again.

I don't know what happened but -

It wasn't him, he's not even here

I think I did it.