There’s something special about fog so thick you can’t see what’s beyond it. There’s a feeling of isolation.
I’m currently sitting on a big bus that’s completely empty. All I can see are these large, empty fields. No trees, no houses. The fog has swallowed it all. I wonder if I’m truly even in the real world anymore.
How do you deal with somwone you don’t remember? Having a feeling of a specific memory, but not the memory itself. How do you trust that feeling?
Am I imagining things? Or can I trust that feeling? I cannot know.
I feel as if there’s something locked behind a door. A large, dark, intimidating door. I need to open it, but I don’t know how. Where is the key?
Life has improved. It may be temporary, but I’ll take it. This week has been good. I’ve been happy. I even achieved a major life goal! I hope it stays this way.
My dolls are placed on top of my bookshelf, watching over my room. They are so still, yet they feel full of life. As a child, I was afraid of dolls, but now they feel comforting. Quiet little friends. I like to think they protect me from whatever monsters might crawl out of the shadows as I sleep.
As I look at them, they seem to be moving ever so slightly. Perhaps I should go to sleep.
At around 1 am, reality starts to shift. Your eyes become drawn to the empty corners in your home, as if a presence is calling out to your subconscious. Everything feels too quiet, too calm.
Maybe reality is always like this, but we only notice it when it is still enough.
It’s New Years Eve and I’m sad. I got stressed and angry and burned myself. I’ve been alone in my room all day and no one cares. I don’t want to live yet here I am. Alive. Alive and alone. Some days I just wish to set myself on fire.
He used to sing, when he thought no one was near. Or maybe he knew I could hear him, and he just didn’t care.
I wonder if he’d still be proud of me.
The smell of the ocean. The low horns of fishing ships. People working on the docks. Stealing food and getting into fights. Gangs. Blood. Deirdre.
A red coat. Steady hands. He smelled of death and cigars.
I lost a lot. I don’t live that life anymore. I wish I did. It was scary and dangerous. But it made me feel alive. I don’t feel alive anymore. Just empty. Nothing but memories of another time. Another life. It burns inside me.
My cats never leave me. They never ignore me. They’re the reason I’m still here. I’m never alone as long as I have them.
My brothers and my niece is here. Tomorrow my aunt and grandma comds over.I hate it. I hate it when the family is together. I’m always forgotten. They all talk to each other and have fun and I just barely exist. My mother always tells me to come join everyone but what’s the point? I just sit and listen to their conversations, no one talks to me. It’s better I just sit alone in my room. That way I’ll feel less ignored. If they really wanted me there they’d talk to me.
Nothing makes me more depressed than the holidays.
Nine of Swords 