If my nightmares come true. If he gets hurt and doesn’t survive. I do not want to live any more. If he doesn’t survive, neither will I.
Some of you make think I’m joking. Some of you may think im insane. But I have a story to tell. And it’s completely the truth. My personal experience. Some of you may curse me to hell. And some of you may just understand my plight. But I’m telling you now that i am not trolling you.
As a little girl, like most children, I had an imaginary friend. I would stay up at night talking to her and we would play games. She was a lot older than me, but that didn’t seem to matter because I was the only one who could see her. Eventually, i stopped being able to see her. But i would still hear voices calling out to me. I didn’t know the events that had previously transpired in my house. I never thought of the possibility that she was the one who started it all. In fact, it didn’t even occur to me until recently that she could be the missing piece of the puzzle. You see, strange things had a tendency to happen at my house. And telling this story, even right now, is a huge risk. My heart is already beating faster than normal. Because this isn’t a story of angels and redemption.
If you have ever been attacked by a demon, or been around a ghost, you should know what I’m talking about. You should recognize the fear that is accompanied by their intense gaze. I should probably start with my stepsister. Like most if my family, my stepsister, is religious. However, the intense violence that has captured our family and those around them has gone on for quite sometime. She was probably the first to investigate this matter fully. A long time ago, in the house i stay in (this was my families home long before i was born) there was a couple that stayed here. Like most people who grew angry and discontent with eachother way back when, the wife poisoned her husband with rat poison. The reason they were so angry with eachother was due to the fact that the wife was pregnant and the husband knew that the baby was not his.
In fact, the baby’s skeleton had been found sealed off in my parents old bedroom. They did not involve the police. Why? Because it wasn’t a normal baby. This skeleton had wing appendages, on its skull were two small horns. The whole side of the house it was located on was completely sealed off, including the chimney. The windows had been borded up as well. In fact, the chimney is still sealed. We thought of breaking into it to see what was inside, but we had already woken what was attached to the room. The wife had given birth to her child at home, and realized she had commited a serious crime, an abomination. So, she killed the child. And she killed her husband. Soon after, she also died.
When my family moved in. They had to open up the sealed room so they would have more space. They found the childs bones, the poison, and they swore eachother to secrecy. The woman i played with, she was the mother. I did not find out about any of this until a year ago. They kept the secret that long. Almost 20 years of secrecy. Of course, they did not know about my part in it all until later when they told me. You see, they say there are reasons you don’t mess with things if you don’t know what you’re doing. Ouija is the stupidest thing that a person could do. I’ve always known that. And so is practicing with things you don’t know about, which is what i did.
At 16, i was your typical angst filled teenager. However, i had and still have a strong connection to the dead… actually, i would say that demons are more attracted to me than the dead. The only ghost I’ve really encountered would be the womans, but my encounter with her opened me up to my encounter with her baby’s father. Again, at the time, i didn’t know what i was doing.
When i stopped seeing the woman as a child, something else that i thought was a spirit began to bother me. At first it was just a shadowy figure waking me every night, then came the recurring nightmares. The main one consisted of four figures. All girls. All young. Each one with a different hair color. I never saw their face. Black, brown, red, blonde. The four major hair colors. Each positioned in a white dress walking in place, towards me. Each on the four corners of my yard. Nothing else happened. All they did was walk in place. However, i would wake crying and screaming every night. The shadow looming over me. I had the most difficult time getting proper sleep. Soon, i grew used to the figure. This process took a few years. It didn’t get really bad until i was 16 and more open to the spirits. Instead of just watching me, it began to play jokes on me. Jab me with its finger when i was alone only to laugh at me whem my heart jumped into my throat and i would heavily fall onto the furnature behind me clutching the center of my chest. Appear at ungodly hours shaking my bed and telling me to wake up. The more aggressive it was, the more scared i became.
Eventually, i took to the native American ritual known as smudging and locking everything out of my house with a sort of spell. Its hard to describe. Its like picturing a pure white light in your chest, the light expands from the center to fill your whole body, then explodes. Sticking to the walls like glue and forming bars. No, it doesn’t do that literally. You have to use your imagination and determination for it to work and you have to keep picturing the bars when you look around. So i did that and practiced smudging every once in awhile. The shadow left. The nightmares left.
I grew too comfortable. So imagine my shock when my bed was violently shaking at 5 a.m. six
months later and i was being yelled at. Hesitantly, i peaked out from under my blankets only to see the malevolent black figure hanging over me. Freaking out, i did the only thing i knew how to at that point. And don’t laugh because it is sortof funny but i was scared out of my mind. I took ome look at it. Said “NOPE” and fllipped back over. Of course, my “nope” reaction only lasted two seconds before i curled up into a ball repeatedly telling myself: “It’s not real, it’s not real” and then crying myself to sleep.
The next day, i didn’t take the normal precautions because i knew they wouldn’t work. It was watching me. So instead, i negotiated with it. I think the only reason it listened was because it decided to humor me. So basically, i sat in my room, glaring at my closet and was like: “So… look… im sorry thst i kinda did all that stuff to shut you out, but can you really blame me? I mean seriously, scaring the shit out of someone at 5 in the morning everyday isn’t the best way to get someone to talk to you. So now you know. Uhm… if you want me to talk to you just say so, you don’t have to scare me to get me to talk to you. I’m the only one that can see you so i get why you would bother me but still… just… don’t do that anymore. And if you do, I’ll just have to make my barriers stronger as punishment.” So a few years went by and things were peaceful. It didn’t bother me any more. That was… until last year.
You see, things like that have an impact on the weak willed and susceptible. Aka, my brothers. Why they were so susceptible? They were on pills. The fighting. The violence. The almost killing eachother in the yard… the lame excuses given to the hospitals. Me faking my emotions. At that point, i couldn’t feel anything. I watched my dying father and my dying brother with a stoic face. Of course, they didn’t die. They were taken to the hospital with the lame excuse of “my heart started hurting and i fell in a bush” and “i dont know what happened, i went inside to get a blanket to keep him warm and i just… i dont know”. And of course all of the women involved were crying and screaming. I was the only one who felt nothing, of course, i quickly realized that if i didn’t want to get put into a mental hospital that i needed to pretend. So that’s what i did. I forced myself to cry. I forced myself to act dramatic and hit things. Sorry to jump around, this happened a few years ago, but its one of the many reasons i call my brothers weak willed. So back to last year.
Doing what had become routine to me, i cast a protective elemental circle and connected with a friend of mine via circle to provide strength and protection. Of course, at the time he was also dealing with demons and when we thought we were finished i closed my circle as i normally would and texted him. This was the first time a demon physically atracked me and wasn’t just messing around by moving my furniture or poking me for a laugh. The pain was so intense i fell to my knees. Crawled to my bed. And begged for it to end. I was gasping for air. I almost passed out. I immediately grasped for my phone but the pain was so intense i could barley message my friend. “Syle, help!” And then i dropped the phone.
I layed there for a few minutes. No longer able to move, my phone buzzing over and over as he tried to get me to respond. He gave up after a few minutes and cast another circle. Of course i didn’t know he had until after i was no longer paralyzed from intense pain. Then the pain dissipated. I could move again. And of course i was furious with myself for not staying in my circle a bit longer and casting protection onto my room and myself.
After that i went to my sisters. I learned the names of the demons who had been haunting me. I learned of the woman, her child, and her husband. I was shown what was left of the skeleton and the poison. I was shown the pictures. We scoured over books and websites to solve our problem. We salted the yard. We placed pure iron nails from an old railroad track into the dirt. And we went about our lives, i won’t tell you the demon’s name. Because to speak its name is to summon it. I haven’t said that name since we put it all behind us. But it’s not over. It’s waiting. And i don’t know when it will attack next.
Your skin, it’s so soft.
Your muscles, firm.
The smile on your face when you look down on me,
Running my fingers over your features.
Feeling yours against mine.
Being with you all night.
Your shoulder the perfect pillow.
Clutching the tags you always wear.
It’s so odd, how the color of your eyes change.
I thought I would never see them again.
I have those memories, yet if I lost you…
My reason for living,
It would also perish.
Today I lost a friend.
Not even a few hours ago.
I saw him the other day, smiling.
Today, he shot himself.
Today people cried.
But I didn’t.
My thoughts were, maybe now he can smile, maybe now he isn’t in any more pain.
All I know for a fact is… that today, I lost a friend.
I have found that a way to help you figure out things is to analyze your dreams. I know some of them are seemingly meaningless, but it seems to help me. Also sharing them with others help as well. Here are a few of my own:
*warning, this first one is a bit gross*
- I mashed a bump and instead of puss coming out, I pulled a neuron out of my skin.
- My local college was located in a swamp. A former friend and I wore old time dresses (Gothic era) with petticoats. I found a book of nautical poetry and began to read it. The buildings were made of wood and looked similar to old captains cabins.
- I ordered a cake that was a few inches long, but the one brought to me was made in feet. The man who brought them was changed into a bunch of chickens as punishment and placed in a nearby chicken pen. There was a plane crash. A message popped in the air (similar to that of a text message bubble) saying that we should move the victims to a movie theater. The plane had hit the top of a large hill and squashed my sisters truck. The victims had to be lured down through song. There were also many ghosts who could only be seen by a few people.
- Drinking tap water caused people to go insane. I drank some by accident and began to attack people.
- People sized spiders ate clothing as a food source. Spiders 5x that size control the people sized spiders. I stayed in a house that was packed full of food. There wasn’t enough room to sit so I sat on a recliner with two other people and one was a guy. He was acting weird so I slapped him and moved. My former best friend wanted to make a cake for her little brother’s birthday. The old man there wouldn’t let us use his cake mix so we left to buy some but the spiders stopped us. My friend threw up on me.
- I kept drinking, but no matter how much I consumed, I couldn’t get drunk. (The scene was similar to that of when naruto first meets lady tsunade in the bar and she is drinking)
So, that is all I have written in my dream diary so far. Share your dreams or help others figure out the meanings of theirs.
I am surrounded by darkness,
And no one gives a damn.
Even though all I show is kindness,
My insignificance shows for who I am.
I feel so alone.
No one beside me.
So far away from what is supposed to feel like home.
Unable to even see.
It’s like a disease I’m confined to,
Casting off my every reach;
Disabling me to undo,
My pathetic way of speech.
If destruction is my punishment, so be it.
I cannot be absolved.
This hierarchy of pain is meant for human consumption.
Freedom is a false concept.
We are slaves to our emotions.
Slaves to our attatchments.
Outcasts among the masses.
If destruction is my punishment, pain is my savior.
I’ve never used a website like this before, i have been struggling with my emotions for as long as i remember. Tonight was the first time i have cut in four years. I currently do not want to leave my bed. But i probably will leave it and lay on thr floor. All of this i have done as a punishment to myself for hurting someone that I love. I deserve this emotional turmoil I feel. I deserve the tears in my skin and the empty feeling in my chest… I will not eat tomorrow. I don’t deserve to be comfortable. Why am I punishing myself for hurting someone? Because I was selfish. I jumped to conclusions. I told other people everything that I thought was happening. I said mean and harsh things. I jumped to conclusions, got drunk to avoid pain, and then lashed out at the one I love the most. I don’t deserve happiness. He won’t express his pain but I feel it radiating off of him. He would never hurt me. Yet I always hurt him. I don’t think I deserve to live either. But I’m too selfish to end it yet. If my life plans are destroyed, my reasons for living will be destroyed. I’m already close to losing my financial aid for college, life keeps happening and forcing me go with drawl from my classes, even though I’m making straight As. Emergency hospital visits, stalkers, financial problems. It doesn’t matter what I do. Being told I’m possessed by a demon by my Christian mother, who doesn’t know I’m an agnostic athiest because if I said anything close to my true views I would lose my place to stay. Me constantly taking my negativity out on the one person I never wanted to hurt. I don’t deserve this pointless life. It’s filled with pain. I don’t deserve the happy moments. I give up trying to live. It takes too much effort. It’s pointless. Oblivion is inevitable so why avoid the inevitable?