I need to figure out how to work the settings on my stupid camera. I can't get it to take a decent night photo.
Not like I've seen that creepy tall thing tonight anyways, but if it comes by I want to at least be able to get a picture of it! Maybe I can show you guys what's out there.
I wonder why it just stands there watching.... God it's so creepy.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
A New Thing?
I wanted to post last night, but Denny's kicked my ass...
Pulling up into my driveway scares me now, especially when I'm coming home at night. I swear there's something that likes to lurk behind my neighbor's shed. Last night I thought I might have seen something, but I bolted into my house as fast as possible and hid in my room on the other side of the house. It didn't follow me, or at least I didn't notice it try to come after me.
Whatever it was, it was tall. I mean, like, tall.
Pulling up into my driveway scares me now, especially when I'm coming home at night. I swear there's something that likes to lurk behind my neighbor's shed. Last night I thought I might have seen something, but I bolted into my house as fast as possible and hid in my room on the other side of the house. It didn't follow me, or at least I didn't notice it try to come after me.
Whatever it was, it was tall. I mean, like, tall.
Monday, September 24, 2012
The Truth
Okay, so this is happening.
I'm making this blog so that I can get my ACTUAL feelings and thoughts out into the world. You see, my parents suggested that I start up a blog to help me vent in place of a personal journal because I already told them that those never worked well for me. Only With Sugar is the name of that blog, which I'm wondering if my parents will even get that I'm trying to tell them that I can't stand this stupid medication I'm on.
I've had depression issues for a while, and I've already gone through this process once of being put on medication for it. However, I kind of ignored the doctor's advice and just sort of stopped taking it after about a month. It wasn't helping, it was just making me tired and it was harder to think. I wasn't even really interested in starting up on any medication then(though I suppose I can see why my parents freaked out).
The thing that pushed them to take action(finally) was when I came in from the backyard one night freaking out, crying, and clutching onto my arm which was covered in deep scratches. They thought it was me. It most certainly was not me. I wouldn't have done something like that to myself. Sure, I was depressed, and I'd thought about self-harming and suicide... but I was always too afraid of the pain that would follow cutting myself and I'm scared of death. Well, I'm not really sure if it's so much that I'm scared of death as I am of what might be on the other side, if anything. And if there isn't anything... well... I just can't help but be terrified of that unaware emptiness....
But no.
Those scratches weren't from me.
But it's not like I could tell them the truth.
I don't honestly expect you to believe anything that I'm about to tell you, but I have to get this off of my chest and out of my head. I have to write about that pale, sickly, humanoid beast that charged at me with its horrifying growl. Its claws digging into my arms were the most painful things... Ugh, those knife-like claws...
I'm not even really sure how I got away, I just remember the feeling of not running nearly fast enough, crashing in through the door on wobbly legs and the wet feeling of tears on my cheeks and blood dribbling from my arm and onto my hand and legs.
That was about a year ago. And now I think it's back.
I'm making this blog so that I can get my ACTUAL feelings and thoughts out into the world. You see, my parents suggested that I start up a blog to help me vent in place of a personal journal because I already told them that those never worked well for me. Only With Sugar is the name of that blog, which I'm wondering if my parents will even get that I'm trying to tell them that I can't stand this stupid medication I'm on.
I've had depression issues for a while, and I've already gone through this process once of being put on medication for it. However, I kind of ignored the doctor's advice and just sort of stopped taking it after about a month. It wasn't helping, it was just making me tired and it was harder to think. I wasn't even really interested in starting up on any medication then(though I suppose I can see why my parents freaked out).
The thing that pushed them to take action(finally) was when I came in from the backyard one night freaking out, crying, and clutching onto my arm which was covered in deep scratches. They thought it was me. It most certainly was not me. I wouldn't have done something like that to myself. Sure, I was depressed, and I'd thought about self-harming and suicide... but I was always too afraid of the pain that would follow cutting myself and I'm scared of death. Well, I'm not really sure if it's so much that I'm scared of death as I am of what might be on the other side, if anything. And if there isn't anything... well... I just can't help but be terrified of that unaware emptiness....
But no.
Those scratches weren't from me.
But it's not like I could tell them the truth.
I don't honestly expect you to believe anything that I'm about to tell you, but I have to get this off of my chest and out of my head. I have to write about that pale, sickly, humanoid beast that charged at me with its horrifying growl. Its claws digging into my arms were the most painful things... Ugh, those knife-like claws...
I'm not even really sure how I got away, I just remember the feeling of not running nearly fast enough, crashing in through the door on wobbly legs and the wet feeling of tears on my cheeks and blood dribbling from my arm and onto my hand and legs.
That was about a year ago. And now I think it's back.
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