Monday, May 23, 2011

Written Sunday, May 22nd, 7:30 am.

My mother completely shut me down when she told me my favorite cafe isn't open on Sundays. My modem has been dead since last night. I'm writing this in advance in the hopes that when the wifi returns I can post it.

It happened again. After all this time trying to forget and think of something else, after a week of calm, a week of rain. After I'd finally started to feel just a little bit better about myself and what was going on around me.

The bastard apparently doesn't like being ignored by His victims. To the point that He'll go out of his way to make sure we know He's here.

Or perhaps I never stopped thinking about Him at all and this is the end result.

Anyway, cut to the chase.

He was in my room last night.

Not outside my window. In my room.

The internet died some time last night, before He showed up, so I hadn't been doing much of anything. I might have been considering texting a friend so I wouldn't feel so alone, because I wasn't able to sleep.

He was just sort-of.....there. In the corner, right beside my bookcase.

Thinking back on it now, I suppose it was something akin to a schoolyard bully making His presence known to a new kid. Just sort-of...looming, without taking action,. An ultimatum, maybe.

It's amazing how, with some things, you're only frightened of them until they're actually right in front of you. I think I was frightened: I couldn't move or hide or run and I wouldn't dare take my eyes of Him lest I look away and He actually does something. But I think that's just what happens when He's THAT close. It's what He does. Your heart doesn't pound, your mind doesn't race, but you're still paralyzed, not so much with fear as with sick fascination. This is probably why children follow Him so easily. This wasn't by any means a good thing, though. I was still in the danger zone.

I blinked.

He was gone.

The shuddering and nausea and the heart-and-mind assault returned,

I very nearly went into the bathroom and swallowed the half a bottle of Advil that was left on the counter. No matter how much stress I've been through, never, ever have I had any sort of suicidal tendencies.

This is serious.

I've spent the last few hours pacing in the kitchen. I can't stand sitting in my own room right now. I'll think too much about it. Probably going to sleep on the couch tonight.

Something's dawned on me. I've realized that, if I have any desire to live, I need to stop doing things the way I have been. No more denial. Real or not, after an experience like that, it's better to be safe that sorry.

The only problem is what.

What can I do?

I want to fight this. I want to live. But I can't run. I'm not capable of being a runner. I wouldn't know how to take care of myself were I to leave my home and family.

There are some of you who haven't run, and have managed to survive. Meaning I have a chance still.

Do you ever feel like you were chosen to be one of them? That there's a reason why all this has happened to you? Why He is in your life?

In my eyes, every one of you is special. There's something about you that makes you unique. You have expertise. Physical prowess. The wistom of ages. Immunity, however temporary. Music. Music is a very powerful tool and should not be underestimated: it can drive the most grounded to insanity, and soothe the most savage of beasts.

You all have skills.

What have I? An unhealthy obsession with existentialism? Books? Brains? It is undoubtable that knowledge is our strongest asset, but what use does it have when we do not know how to use it?

There is something else I admire you all for.

You have accepted. You have allowed yourself to become soldiers and runners because you know that the threat is real, very real.

How long did you doubt yourself? Do you doubt it still? Is there any way to fully overcome it? As calm as I may seem now, I'm doubting every second. If I'm speaking to real people, to liars, to non-entities created by my own mind. If I'm even writing (or typing) at this very moment. If what I'm seeing, hearing, feeling, smelling, tasting on the air is real or just a lucid dream or not even a dream, a false reality, one somehow created by Him to blind me further from the truth.

Do you have direction? Do you have answers?

Please, don't ignore me any longer. A comforting word alone will keep me on my way.


No comments:

Post a Comment