It's Sunday.

Back in the day, I would have spent Sunday dressing up in stiff clothes and being dragged to church with my mom and my little sisters and brothers. But now that Mom and Daddy are divorced (all thanks to the Corpsicle Kid), I don't have to go because Dad doesn't really believe in religion. I think he believes in something, but we spend our Sundays out jogging and biking, even now.

I think Dad's the reason I'm alright--the reason I'm not at half-speed now. He's sort of kept my head above the water. I'm glad he got custody of little Jack, too. 

Anyway, maybe youv'e heard of the White Van Conspiracy, which is a name I've given it--some people think these white vans that have been showing up around dead kids' re-deaths are a part of some sort of organization aimed to get rid of us. 

Dad and I see them sometimes, and Jack (he's nine, by the way) mentioned seeing a couple parked outside the elementary school the other day. I hate to admit that whatever they are, they freak me out. Whenever we pass them on the road, I try to hide myself as much as possible.

Any thoughts on these vans? Tommy has some... again, go to mysocalledundeath.com.

I'll just keep throwing that link out there ;]