Hello Everyone.

Sorry if anyone was offended by my comments that I put in my last post. I guess I just let someone get to me who I should have just ignored them. Sometimes I wish I could be more mature, or more patient than I am, but it felt good to finally get some things out of my system.

Recovery is going, well...I'm trying to get my head straight. It's hard. Harder than anything else I've ever done. I'm going to see my therapist tomorrow, and I'm looking forward to it. At first, I thought going to a therapist would be kind of like giving up, you know? Saying "My problems are so bad that I can't handle them alone, and therefore, I am a weak person". And maybe that's true, but I think I'm learning that there's nothing wrong with being weak sometimes. Wow, that sounds so cheesey, like a hallmark card or something.

What else? Let's see, I'm reading a book, called "Prozac Nation". It's about a girl (I think it's a true story) who suffers from extreme depression, and it's pretty good so far. I'm not to far into it, but I thought reading something like this might help me feel better about what I'm going through. You know, sort of like I'm not alone in all this, or somthing. I know, it sounds kind of silly. But being as sick as I am can be a very lonely thing.

I haven't started looking for a job. My mom has been kind enough to say I should take some time off from working, to relax and destress, and she said she'd take care of my bills, and rent and stuff. That's really nice of her. I think she's afraid that I'm going to end up like Dad. Not likely though. Especially since I'm getting help now. But you can't blame her for being afraid.

Anyway, enough feeling sorry for myself for one day. I hope you're all doing well, and it's good to hear from you guys again. I missed blogging while I was away. :)

Home Again!

Hello Everyone, I am now happy to anounce that this message is being typed to you from my old "ghost inhabited" apartment. They let me go a day late, but that's fine with me. it feels good to be back here, and living without fear. It feels almost like the last two months or so never happened at all. There are no voices in my apartment today, and I'm not afraid. That's a big step in the right direction for me.

I have a few things to say. First of all, thank you to everyone who has helped me with advice, with words, with jokes, and with prayers. You all really helped me get through a tough time. I told my therapist about my blog, and she said it was a wonderful idea, and that I should keep it up. In fact, she asked my permission to go back and read all of my entries, so she could better understand what it was like for me to go through all this stuff. It's a place where I can tell people about my thoughts, my fears, my hopes, my dreams, and never have to worry about being hurt. The worst that could happen is someone leaves a sarcastic ior rude comment on here, and I just ignore it. Hellman Jackson already did that, so I'm already adept at ignoring the jerks. :)

But I did want to say something kind of rude. This blog, this place, is sacred to me now. Its my place, my tiny little haven where I can come to be myself. I wish people could keep their comments positive, but I guess that's not the case. I have a lot of bad things going on in my life, and I guess what I'm saying is, if you guys have a disagreement, or want to argue and fight about something, then feel free to do it somewhere else. I don't want to come here and find fifteen comments posted which is an arguement between too people, each calling the other a liar. Remember that this is my blog, my place, my world, and if you're going to come into it, then please have some respect, both for me, and for the other people who come here. Poeple should be free to comment or say what they like without worrying about reprieve, or anger. Brandon, Justme, and Aimee, I understand that you all have differences of opinion, and you get mad at eachother, but don't use my blog as an excuse to go after one another. When I read your fighting, I didn't know if I should laugh outloud, or burst into tears. The part I found funniest, was that two people who both claim they are christian and follow christ, where so caught up in yelling at each other, trying to prove each other wrong, and accusing each other of being a witch or a liar, that they lost sight of Christ's greatest teaching, love. I'm not a biblical scholar by any stretch of anyone's imagination, but didn't christ teach "Love yourself, Love god, Love your neighbor, and Love your enemy"? So maybe before you come to my blog talking about who is or isn't this or that, and getting nasty and mean, you should think about how rediculous you sometimes sound. So please, feel free to jkeep reading. I value your insights, your words of encouragement, and your help, but your attacking eachother, and occasionally me, does no one any good. Keep that in mind next time.

Sorry to get of on a tangent there. Sometimes my train of thought wanders, and it's hard to focus on any one thing. My therapist said the drug I'm taking could possibly do that to me as a side effect. Oh well. I guess I'll learn to live with it until I'm well enough to do with out the drugs. Hope your all doing well.

Things May Get Better From Here

Hello Everyone. Sorry for my absence lately. A lot has happened.

My Mother came to visit on friday. I had completely forgotten about it. Well, she called and called, and I didn't answer, and she said she was banging on the door, but I don't remember any of that happening, so she got ahold of my building manager, and he let her in. I guess she found me in the closet, with the door shut. I don't really remember anything of what had happened, this is all according to what she told me. I was sitting naked on the floor of my closet, hugging my knees against my chest, rocking and mumbling something to myself. I had cuts all over my body, and they looked like they were beginning to become infected. My face was bruised, and I had vomited all over myself. She said I had lost at least thirty pounds since the last time she'd seen me, and my face was sullen and pale, and I had huge dark rings under my eyes. The whole apartment stank, as nothing had been cleaned in ages, and there was rotting food and waste everywhere. She didn't know what to do, so she decided to take me to the hospital. As soon as she touched me to help me get up, I evidently (like I said, I don't remember any of this) started screaming and thrashing around, and then I blacked out. She called an ambulence, and they took me to the hospital where I was restrained. I was examined and interviewed over the next couple of days by many different doctors, and they finally agreed on a diagnosis:

Schizoaffective Disorder

I guess its a mixture between schizophrenia and severe depression. I'm sure there's some sort of website that you can go to to look up more about it, so I won't go into great detail here as to what exactly is wrong with me, but the doctors say that since the loss of my father, I have had a depression problem which I haven't been dealing with, hence all my dreams about death and loss and fear. They said that once I got close to someone (Carrie) who then left me, it pushed me over the edge, and I started to hallucinate. I told them about the ghosts, and voices, and all those other weird things that were happening to me, and they were very interested to meet Barry and to get his take on things. Well, they called my work place, and there is no one named Barry currently on their payrole. I know. It's hard for me to believe and deal with, but I guess Barry isn't real either. Their biggest fear was that I'd hurt myself, but after the interviews and meetings, they decided that some drug treatment, coupled with therapy twice a week would allow me to function normally, and that if my illness was treated, I was no real threat to myself or anyone else. So they have me taking some Zyprexa every day (I think it's about ten miligrams or so). It makes me a little bit dizzy sometimes, and my hands tend to shake a little bit, but otherwise, I feel a bit better. For the rest fo the week I'm going to be staying with my mother, and visiting the doctors every day, and then after that, if I'm doing well, I may be able to move back home, and try living on my own.

The voices have stopped, so that's a good thing, and it gives me hope that maybe everything will turn out OK for me in the end. I just kind of have to take it one day at a time for now. I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has been so kind to me while I've been going through all this crap. I've been just as confused and scared as all of you have been, and it's been hard for me these last couple of days, coming to grips with the fact that I do have some mental problems, that I need to learn to deal with. I'm sorry if I scared anyone. I didn't mean to. And I didn't mean to make anyone upset either. I'm just trying to do the best I can right now, so please bear with me. You are all the best, and I hope you're all doing well right now. I know I'm doing better.

Misery Loves Misery

hHe flies are back. Or at least it feels like they are. My skin feels itchy and tickly, like there's something crawling on it. I know there's a ghost, or some presence here at my house. I can feel it. People have been commenting lately that maybe I need help. I do need help. I want help. But what they don't understand is how powerful fear is. Yes I'm scared to stay inside, but I'm even more scared to leave. Threatening letters. People watchng me. Bad dreams. Premonitions. I feel like my brain is on fire, and all I can do is sit here in my room with the door locked. The voices come and go, sometimes faint whispering, simetimes angry shouting, sometimes laughter. It makes me laugh now to. What else can I do but laugh? Look at where I am. Look at my life. Its a joke. Everything is a god damned joke to me right now.

But I do know this much. I will survive this. I'm not like my father. I'm not weak, and I'm not going to give in. A teacher in school once told me that being brave isn't not having fear, it's being afraid, but doing what is right anyway. That's how I feel I'll get through this. I think I've hit rock bottom, and when your at the bottomw, there's nno where to go but up. No matter how hard it is no matter how much your body cries out in anguish, in hate, in disgust. God it hurts so much right now.

Something has been knocking on my door all afternoon again. I'm not going to let whatever it is in. That's why I don't leave. Can't you see that there's something trying to keep me here? And if I try to leave, it will destroy me. I don't know how I know this, I just do. Barry understands what's happening though. He's been here, he's seen and experienced it first hand. I don't know if he feels the same way I do, but this thing, it doesn't appear to be targeting hi the same way it is me. His tires where never slashed, and he never found any dead animals on his car.

I don't know what to do. God save me.

Dreams and Daydreams

It's getting hard for me to tell the difference between when I'm dreaming and when I'm not. Things are so surreal for me right now. I think it might be because I'm sleep deprived, or something, but it's a very weird feeling. I had some more weird dreasm last night/this afternoon. Here's a quick synopsis of them:

1 - I giant black hand was reaching for me out of the sky, and no matter where I ran, or where I hid, the hand kept apporaching me, grasping for me, and I knew if it ever caught me, I would be destroyed.

2 - Carrie is laughing at me, as I'm tied to a table, and she's slowly drawing razors across my chest and stomach, leaving little lines of blood.

3 - I'm holding my dad's body, his head has a hole in the back where brains and gore are leaking out, and I'm crying, trying to hold his head together, as if I could keep him alive, or even bring him back from his self inflicted gun wound.

That's just a taste, but sleep has been sporatic at best. I have a tremendous headache, and even though I've popped five advil in the last hour, it doesn't seem to be helping. The footsteps and doors finally stopped, or at least slowed down to a tolerable pace. Barry's at work, and as I sit here, typing on my computer, something even worse has started. The whispering. They're whipsering my name, and it's driving me nuts. I'd like to run out of here, to escape and go somewhere else, but where could I go? I'm being watched, and threatened, and I'm too scared to leave my locked up apartment, and I'm too scared to stay. So what do I do? THe easy thing. The cowardly thing. I try to hide. I try to find a place in myself where everything is going to be ok, no matter how bad they are. I keep trying to be optimistic about everything, but the world is so relentless right now. I wonder if this is the kind of stuff that put my Dad over the edge? I wonder if he started being visited by a ghost, or some people started harrassing him, and he only saw one way out. I used to think I could never understand that sort of desperation, but now, I'm not so sure. My head is pounding, throbbing, like it's going to explode. I can feel my pulse in it. But I guess that at least means I'm alive. And that counts for something.

Oh, and I got called by work. I got fired. I guess they like you to actually show up for work, or at least call, and I've been so freaked otu lately I must have forgotten. Just what I needed right now. I'll just have to find something new next week. God I hope Barry gets back soon. Maybe then my hands will stop shaking.

Footsteps and Doors

My head feels like it's going to explode. It's three in the morning, and I haven't been able to sleep a wink. Barry is out lieka light on the couch, but I can't handle it. The footsteps started at about four o'clock this afternoon. It's like a group of people are marching around my apartment. When Barry got back from work he could hear it to. Then the door to the bathroom and my bedroom started opening and closing occassionally, like whatever it is was walking around from room to room. At first it was scary, Barry and I were both freaked out, but now, it's driving me up the wall. it makes my head hurt, and I feel liek I haven't slept in months. It's one of those piercing headaches, the kinds that seem to come from the center of your brain, rather than your sinuses or ears, like something is buried in the middle of your head, and is trying to scratch its way out.

I don't understand what these things want from me. Why me? What makes me special? Why should I have ghost problems, and people slashing my tires and putting dead birds on my car. What did I ever do? As if having my heart stomped on by a girl wasn't enough punushment. How much of this am I supposed to put up with? I feel like I'm drowning, and I don't know how much more I can take. Maybe if I could just get a good nights sleep I would feel better, but now I can't even get that. My face hurts, my back hurts, my shoulders are sore, I still have a nasty lump on the back of my head, my arms and legs itch where I was scratched, and I've got nasty welts from where the flies bit me. God I'm so pathetic. Now I'm sitting at my computer, crying like a little kid. I feel so picked on right now. I just want this to stop. I want my life to be the way it was. I want to be normal. I just want to be normal.

WHEN IS THIS GOING TO END?!?!?!

LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!!!!!

Cops Are Useless!!!

I'm pissed off, so sorry if this post is less than cordial. I've not had a good morning. But at least I'm skipping work again. Allow me to explain.

This morning, I got up to get ready for work. I was running a bit late again, and Barry had already left. I was really tired again. I've been having trouble sleeping lately, what with all the creepy goings on. So I got ready, grabbed a Mountain Dew out of the fridge to try and wake myself up a bit, and went to my car. But when I got to my car, I noticed a pile of something on the hood. As I got close, I could see that there were three dead birds. Normally, a dead bird wouldn't suprise me, but there were three of them sitting there, three big black dead birds, and they were arranged in the shape of a triangle, head to tail. Well, that struck me as odd, and coupled with the weird note I got, I figured that this wasn't a "natural" occurance, that probably someone had put them there. So, I did what I thought was right, and what Optimus Skiver has recommended I do. I called the cops.

COPS ARE USELESS!!!!

I'm sorry if you know a cop and are offended by that statement. But it's true. So I called the police, and told them I'd received a threatening letter and there was a dead animal on my car, and they told me they'd send a patrol car over as soon as they could. So I waited around, and about two hours later this cop shows up. He looked to be about my age. THis is roughly how the conversation went.

Cop - Hello, are you JD?

Me - Yes. Thanks for coming out. Here's the dead animals I found on my car this morning. (I gestured towards the hood of my car).

Cop - (Smirking) Yea, so some kids were playing with some dead birds. Is that all.

Me - (pausing) Um....so you think some kids took some dead birds and arranged them in a triangle on the hood of my car?

Cop - Well, who do you think did it? Besides, it's not like they broke a law or anything.

Me - Well, what about this (I pulled the letter I found yesterday out of my pocket and handed it to the cop)?

Cop - (Reading letter) And this was foudn with the birds?

Me - No. I found it yesterday. Someone had slipped it under my door.

Cop - (Smirking) Huh, so how does this have anything to do with the birds?

Me - (Pausing in disbelief) What do you mean? It's a threat!

Cop - (holding the letter out in front of me) Where did they threaten you exactly?

Me - With the whole "watching me in my sleep" line. Isn't that against the law. They're basically saying they're going to stalk me. Isn't that illegal?

Cop - Well, I guess so, but only if you can identify who it is. Do you know who might have wanted to send something like this to you?

Me - I have no idea.

Cop - Hmm....I don't see why your conecting this to a couple of dead birds on your car. It sounds unrelated to me. Probably just some kids pranking you or something.

Me - So what should I do? I don't want to keep getting harrasing letters, and I don't like finding dead animals on my car.

Cop - (sighing heavily) Look, keep the letter (handing the letter back to me). If you get another one, or you find some more animals or something, then give us a call and we'll file a report. But for now, this looks like a coincidence to me. Anyone could have sent this letter to you. You could have sent it to yourself.

Me - (getting angry) I didn't...

Cop - Look, I'm not saying you did, but until we have something more concrete than a vaguely threatening letter and some dead birds to go on, no one is going to take this seriously. (He started walking back to his car) Listen, if something else happens, then give us a call, and we'll look into it. For now, just try to relax, and if you can think of any reason why anyone would want to send this to you, make a note of it in case this continues. I've got to get going. (Get's in car)

Me - (Standing there watching the cop drive away) Thanks for nothing...


So now I'm at home, paranoid to leave my apartment, and paranoid to stay in it. I could probably handle one thing at a time, but weird ghost crap mixed with weird stalker crap is a bit to much right now. I just need to calm down.

Mystery Note

OK, so I went out and got some food to cook tonight (Totino's Pizza) and stopped by Office Max to get some printer paper, since I'm running low. When I came home (around 3:30-ish) I opened the door, and lying on the floor was a folded piece of paper. I put my bag of groceries down (which included pizzas, potato chips, Dr Chill; the crappy cub foods Dr. Pepper knock off, Bacon, and some motzerella cheese), and picked up the letter. This is what it said:


JDP-

Believe what you want, your mind will not change reality, reality will change your mind. Each individual must choose and disvocer for themselves the truth. Have you found your truth? Answers will come with time, but know this: you cannot stop us. As you sleep, we will watch, as you eat, we will watch, as you work, we will watch. Learn from us. As others have trod, so shall you tread. Here and now is your time.


That's all. What the heck does this mean? Now I'm more freaked out than ever. Barry should be here soon. I bet he'll want to see this. After reading it I locked and chained the door, and shut all the windows and closed the shades. I wonder if it's just some random weird coincidence, or if something bad is happening to me. "Just Me" is right. My life is starting to sound like a crappy B-Movie plot line. If it's that Nazi's, then at least it's an Indiana Jones movie. ;)

Terrible Morning!

I woke up late this morning. Barry got up well before I did, and headed out to work. I got up a half hour after I was already supposed to be at work. I must have been more tired than I thought. It didn't feel like I slept very well, but then, if I didnt end up beating myself up, then I guess you could call it a good night's sleep. So I frantically got up, took a two second shower, threw on my clothes, and ran out to my car. But I had not one, not two, but three flat tires! I wish I was kidding, but I'm not. I had one of those crappy little tires in the trunk, the ones that say (only use for ten miles) or something, but I didn't have three. So I called into work and told them I wouldn't be able to come in. I wasn't feeling to hot anyway and didn't really want to go in, so I leveraged this as an excuse. I called a towing company to get my car and take it to a tire place. The tow only cost $150! What a rip off! Plus three new tires, which was just under $100. The mechanic asked who I'd pissed off, because he said my tires had been slashed. Which was why they couldn't just patch up the holes or whatever, because they were cuts about four inches long. I don't know why they didn't slash all four of my tires, but whatever, whoever it is are a bunch of jerks!

So now I'm at home, alone, still feeling like someone is watching me. I definitely feel another presence in the apartment, and while it isn't necessarily a feeling of fear, I certainly feel uncomfortable. Like someone is constantly watching me. it makes it unco9mfortable to change clothes and shower, because no one wants to do that in front of other people. Least of all someone like me, who is scrawny, geeky, and unattractive. :)

So in about an hour I get to go run some errands, to get some food and to pick up some new books. I've read most of the books I have, and I'm bored and want to read something. To at least distract myself until Barry gets home. I think I'm going to pick up the rest of the Ender books by Orson Scott Card, which, if you haven't read them, are some amazing books. Start with Ender's Game, and you'll be absolutely hooked. I heard they're making it into a movie. I hope it's good, although it would be easy for them to screw up.

I hope you're all well. Sorry about the length of yesterday's post. There was just a lot to tell.

Weekend Insanity

Sorry I couldn't update sooner. Work has been absolutely swamped lately, and I had a crazy busy weekend. Some smaller ghost occurances, and a lot of research. I'll explain:

On Friday, Barry and I (yes, he's still crashng at my place in the hopes of seeing more ghostly activity) went and got some hamburger fixin's (it was really, really nice this weekend here in normally arctic Minnesota, so we thought we'd take advantage of it with my tiny little mini-grill. We made my "ultimate burger recipe" which is:

Take the hamburger, add the following to the raw meat before you make it into patties and grill them:
Worshchestershire Sauce
Soy Sauce
Garlic Powder
Lowry's Seasoned Salt
Chili Powder

Then you grill the meat, and assemble your burger with the following:
Lettuce
Pickle
Tomato
Onion
Ham (thin sliced sandwich stuff)
Swiss Cheese
American Cheese
Provalone Cheese
Ketchup
Mustard
Mayonaise

So, by the end you have a huge burger. Here comes the best part: Wrap the burger in tin foil, and put it back on the grill. Then place a brick or rock on top of the burger, and grill it for a couple more minutes. WHen you're done you will have a gooey crispy on the outside, delicious in the middle burger that is the best burger you'll ever have. Warning: This Burger recipe is so good, you may go into Burger Dimentia. It's that good.

So we made and ate our burgers, and then were having a nice evening of playing Halo 2 in storyline mode, when there was a loud scraping noise, and then a loud crash in my bedroom, followed by another scraping noise. We both kind of looked at each other, and then got up to investigate. We slowly opened the door to my room, and the bookshelf I have had somehow been tipped over, and then dragged clear across the floor and was lying face down against the opposite wall. There were scratch marks in the hardwood floors of my bedroom where it had been drug. We moved over to pick it up, and that's when we noticed something really weird. There were no books scattered across the floor like you would expect there to be. We picked up the bookshelf together, and the books fell out, as if somehow they had been stacked in the bookshelf while it was lying face down onthe floor.

Really weird, right? Well, it gets stranger.

So for the rest of the night, Barry and I were talking about the whole ghost thing, and I was recounting the experiences 've had to him (and some of the stuff you guys have told me), and he started asking a ton of questions about the book I'd found. I told him about it, the bits and pieces I could remember, and he said he thought the name "Behalah" was familiar, but he wasn't sure. So the next day "saturday" we decided to try and research it. For about six hours (way longer than we should have) we scoured the internet, trying to find any tidbit of information we could. The only thing we could come up with was that, according to several websites, it was an old Hebrew word for "Fear" from the bible. Barry thought the book, at least the way I was describing it, sounded like some sort of culty thing, you know, like Heaven's Gate, or Jones Town. He also thought it sounded similar to the Necronomicon, (thanks K!) and thought maybe we should check that out a bit to. So Barry told me that the next day, Sunday, we'd go with one of his friends to the University of Minnesota Library (I think it was the Wilson Library) and see what we could find. His friend was in Law School or something, so he said between the three of us, we should be able to figure something out.

So then that night, I had another bad dream. It really sucked. I was sitting in a library, and even though I know I'd never been there, for some reason I knew I was in London. Barry was there, and we were trying to find out about the Cult of Behalah. I know, my dreams seem so easily influenced by what happens to me during the day! So were were frantically trying to find out some information, I don't know what, but I remember the urgency of trying to find it, but we couldn't. Just as Barry found this old fat dusty book which we had been looking for, we heard some loud yelling behind us. There were these four muscular men, three dressed in black, one in white, who were walking all over the building yelling and pushing people out of their way. We knew they were coming for us, so we took off running. We got out of the building, but no matter how quickly Barry and I ran, they were catching up to us. I hate those dreams! So the men finally were getting close to us, and we turned to duck into an alley, hoping to lose them, but the alley was a dead end. The four men walked up to us, as Barry and I frantically looked around for some sort of escape. The men walked up to us, and stood there, silently. Barry walked up to the man in white and handed him the book. He then turned and smiled at me. The man in white nodded, and the three men in black walked over to me, and started punching and kicking me. I tried to fight back at first, but they were way bigger, so I dropped to the ground in the fetal position, covering my head and stomach as best I could. As I lay there on the wet dirty pavement, their blows landing all over my body and face, I could see Barry and the man in white walking off together, and I could hear Barry saying my name over and over again. That's when I woke up. I was lying on the floor, and I was being attacked.

My room was pitch black, but I could feel something grabbing my wrists and trying to pin me to the ground. I struggled back hard, kicking out with my foot, and I hit Barry right in the crotch. He instantly let go and fell to the floor groaning loudly. I must have it him really hard. So I stood up, and flipped on the light. That was when I felt the pain in my face, sides, and legs. I felt my face, and one of my eyes and my bottom lip was swollen, and my nose was wet with blood. Barry finally got his breath and explained what had happened.

HE had heard some struggling/thrashing sounds coming from my room, and me grunting and groaning. When he opened my door, he saw that I was lying on the ground and it looked like I was having a sezure. He ran over to make sure I was OK, and he tried to hold me still, but I kept hitting myself in the face and body really hard, so he grabbed my wrists and started shouting my name to try and wake me up. And that's when I kicked him in the crotch.

I went to the bathroom, and cleaned my face up as best I could (I was pretty messy), and after explained the dream to Barry. I apologized profusely for the kick, and he suggested either he sleep on the floor of my room, or I go sleep out on the floor in the living room, so if something like that happens again (like it did with the flies) he could be there to help me stop hurting myself. He's convinced it has something to do with the ghost(s) in my house, and like you guys, that it might be related to the Behalah book, since it figured so prominantly into my dream.

THe next day, Barry came back from the library (I was too tired and sore to go with him), and said they hadn't found anything. The reason he foudn this so fascinating is that i had found an entire book devoted to the subject, but there was no mention of this on either the Internet or in a huge university library. He said that didn't make sense, since he assumed one of the two would at least mention somethng about a book being printed, or anything about the book. But they came up empty handed. Barry also said he had the distinct feeling that he was being watched while he was at the library. He never saw anyone, at least, nothing he could outwardly prove, although he said there was one guy that seemed to be conveniently in the same isle as he and his buddy Dan were the whole time. I've had that creepy "being watched" feeling more frequently lately as well. I hope my dream about four evil stalkers isn't coming true! :)

So the book remains a mystery for now. Hopefully my dreams will get a little less intense. I thought about going to see a doctor or something for it, since my face is pretty ugly (or shoudl I say "uglier") than it normally is. I know some of you mentioned I should maybe think about seeing a therapist or something, especially if I'm unconciously hurting myself, but I don't know if I can bring myself to do it. It's seems like such a last resort. I think if I can get to the bottom of the ghost thing, or just move out (only a couple more months on my lease), I'll be fine. I guess we'll see. Hope you're all doing better than I am. :)

Blog Disclaimer

Hello Everyone. Sorry I haven't posted for awhile.

First of all, to "Just Me", I don't know if you meant your movie comment to make it sound like I was a good writer, or like I'm making all this crap up, but be careful. You don't need to come to my blog, no ones asking you to, and you certianly shouldn't come here to pick fights with people like Aimee, who are only trying to help me, and who understand what I'm going through. Frankly, I don't really care wether or not you or anybody else believes me, and I'm sure Aimee feels the same. But please be civil and nice to my friends, and don't accuse them of lying about who they are and what they've been through. Aimee has e-mailed me a lot about her past, and I for one, believe everything she's said to me, niot only because I have no reason to doubt her, but also because a lot of the things she's told me about her past are almost identical to what is happening to me, and they are small details that I haven't written about on the Blog. So believe what you like (after all, sceptecism is healthy), but there's no need to be nasty.

I'll update ya'll with my weekend events a little bit later. I'm swamped at work!

Proof Positive

OK Ladies and Gentelmen, I believe we now have some actual proof that someone besides me is experiencing the whole ghost thing. Allow me to explain what happened.

Last night, as is typical, I had a bad dream. I was walking through a field that had bright golden wheat everywhere, and as I was walking, I was holding my hands out, letting the top of the wheat tickle my hands as the wind blew it. It was a very calmed, relaxing feeling as the sun beat down on my head. As I was sitting there, breathing in the sweet smells of the outside in the summer, the sky suddenly turned black. The wind picked up, and thunder and lighting was crashing around my head. As the wind picked up stronger and stronger, the wheat began to whip my skin, and bits and pieces of it were flying into my face. It started to sting all over my body as the wheat bit into my flesh, and that's when I woke up. But I woke up, not because I was afraid or anything, but because the pain I was feeling was actually happening to my real body.

I sat up in bed and there were hundereds, maybe even thousands of flies in my room, buzzing everywhere, and several of them were crowded around my skin, eating away at the scratches I'd gotten earlier. Their must have been some horse flies in their two, because I could feel several of them biting me. I got up and started shouting for Barry, but it only came out a muffled cry, because as soon as I opened my mouth, a bunch of the flies went into it. I got up, flies buzzing in my ears, my nose, my eyes, and stumbled out the door. Barry was standing there, looking half asleep, but when he saw me, he bolted over and slammed the door shut. He then, thinking much quicker than I would have, grabbed a towel out of the bathroom and started swatting the flies off of my body. It was such a gross feeling, having all those little legs crawling all over my skin. it still makes me shiver.

So, after we'd gotten rid of all the flies on me, I got up, and grabbed another towel, which we wet down, and we opend the door and just started swingin. It must have taken us three hours, but we finally managed to kill all of the little guys. It was horrible! Once we were done, we both stood there, thousands of tiny fly bodies scattered on the floor, and started going:

EEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWW!

So At least we took care of them, and Barry definitely saw all the flies, so there's no way it was just in my mind. My arms and legs, and the back of my head sting still though. YUCK!!! Oh Man, every time I think about it it's just too gross to even think about. I called my building management, and they said they'd call the exterminators to come take a look at the whole building. So Barry and I swept up the bodies, and threw them into a trash can. By the time we were done, it was practically time for me to get up for work, so we just stayed up and chatted about the ghost/demon/poltergeist/whatever it is.

The Ouiji Board has not reappeared. I was kind of hoping it would, because that would confirm in my mind what Aimee's been saying. And the book I threw away is still gone as well, but that hasn't changed anything either. Which is disappointing. Because I really was enjoying reading that book. Thanks for nothing guys. :) I kid.

Alright, I'm going to get back to work, since it's the only thing keeping me awake right now. I hope you're all well, and (shudder) feeling cleaner than I am right now. I can't get it out of my mind. It was so disgusting. Oh man. I may never sleep again. The feeling of all those little feet. Blech!

Until later.

(shudder)

Yet Another Monday

Hello Everyone.

I feel I need to clarify a couple of my own comments. So please bear with me. I'm not going to quit blogging. My "Maybe I shouldn't be blogging" comment came at a moment of extreme self conciousness. I know people are rying to help me, and I don't think anyone has ever meant to be mean to me, or hurt my feelings on my blog (well, except for a certain individual who then apologized for it), but you just have to put yourself in my position. Weird stuff is happening to me, stuff I can't explain, and then people start basically debating over your sanity, well, it's a little unnerving. But you know, I'm over it. I know you're all triyng to help me, and I appreciate your concern. So I never would want someone to stpo posting, and Midnight Lamp, it's not like your opinion is less valid than anyone elses, it's just a bit harder for me to hear, what with me being the one going crazy and all. :)

But enough of that. Last night, while I was sleeping, in the middle of the night I was woken up by the sound of fottsteps in my room. It was really dark in my room, and I could barely see anything, but I heard footsteps walking over by my bookshelf. I sat there, my head slowly sinking under the covers as the familiar knot of fear presented itself in my stomach. For those of you who are psychologists, or psychiatrists, I'd like to know why it is that being under the covers makes you feel safe. Like when you're a kid, and you're convinced there's a monster in your room, why would covers feel so protective? It's not like if there really was a monster with giant claws in your room, about to eat you, it would walk up to your bed and say "Damn! I have these giant sharp claws, if only this tasty child wasn't protected by my one weakness. Cloth!!!" I dunno, seems silly to me.

But anyway, I could hear whatever it was walk around by my bookshelf, and then occaisionally I could here books sliding in and out of my shelf, almost like they were looking through my library. THen the footsteps moved to the other side of the room, to where my computer desk is situated, and starte dshuffling some of the papers around. Then, just as suddnely as it started, it stopped. I didn't hear anymore footsteps, and the thing left the rest of my belongings along.

It took me quite awhile to get back to sleep after that. The next morning, I asked Barry if he heard anything, and he said he woke up in the middle of the night when he heard soem footsteps, but when he realized they were coming from my room, he assumed it was me, getting up to go to the bathroom or something. So could this be the proof you wanted?

The problem is, he doesn't really remember what time it was that he heard it, and since he blew it off, I don't know if it really was the ghost/demon thing he heard, or maybe it really was me getting up to go to the bathroom (I have a terrible habit of eating and drinking a bunch right before I go to bed, so I usually have to get up at least once in the night/early morning, and I don't really remember if I did last night). So it's not the greatest proof, but it does give me hope that maybe he'll be able to hear/see something if he keeps at it, and stays over at my house more.

So keep your fingers crossed, and keep the comments coming, even if you think I'm totally off my rocker. And thanks again for everybody who is trying to help me. It's nice to know I have friends, even if I haven't met any of you.

:)

Insane Or Not?

Well, maybe this whole Blogging thing was a bad idea. Now I have people telling me I'm going slowly insane from the amount of stress in my life. ;)

Intriguing idea. But here's something that doesn't make much sense. The whole "Ghost/Demon" thing started way back before my life became super stressful. Before I met Carrie, and before she riped my heart to tiny little pieces. So why would it have started back then? I just don't get it. Also, let's try and remember that while sometimes I am frantic and scared by this stuff, the reason my Blog seems so calm and flippant, is that by the time I've written in here, I've had time to roll things around in this tiny brain of mine, and come to grips with them.

As for Erik never seeing anything, well, maybe he just has bad timing. The events seem to occur about once a week or so, and Erik was only ever gung-ho about seeing a ghost for a few days after one event. See, Erik has the attention span of a gnat on speed, so he quickly grows tired of things.

By the way, special thanks and non-romantic-intended-hugs (in case you think I'm a creepy insane internet freak) go out to Aimee and Lohan's for defending my honor. If I were a Princess, you'd by my Knights in shining armor. :)

Now, in order to prove my sanity, or at least prove that this isn't just me, I've offered to Barry, and he has graciously accepted, the oppourtunity to sleep on my couch for the next week. If nothing happens, and he sees nothing, then I'll go get some help or something, since it means it could just be me and my mental problems. But if he does see something, maybe then people will start to take me more seriously. Or at least, stop telling me I'm crazy. :)

So does that satisfy everyone? I hope so. I invited Erik to sleep here as well, but well, he's ben kind of weird around me ever since I had that really bad nightmare. Oh well. People are like that I guess. And you've got to roll with the punches. :)

For Those About To Rock...

I don't know why I went with an AC/DC lyric to start this post. I hate AC/DC. :)

Anyway, for those of you who are interested, Lohans provided a link to an alleged ghost film, and the thing filmed in it does look very similar to the ghost I saw. The robes look grayer, but that may be a result of the camera, or something. But anyway, here's the link:

http://www.hrp.org.uk/webcode/content.asp?ID=854

Thanks again Lohans! Maybe the ghost in this video was looking for Captain Crunch as well. :)

So thing continue on for me. I've still got a huge knob on the back of my head, my hand is still cut, and those scratches on my arms are slowly beginning to fade. Man am I looking pathetic. :)

I'm at work, again, like I always am at this time of day. I hate my job so much. It sucks. Barry at least makes it tolerable. We're going to go out to eat today at Chipotle, which, if you don't know, is a great Burrito joint. The burritos are like seventy pounds though, so I usually get two meals out of one. Which isn't a bad thing, since they're so good! Do you think Chipotle would pay me for the endorsement? :)

For some reason today I've had this creepy feeling, like someones watching me? Does that ever happen to you? You can't quite place why, but your skin feels kind of itchy, or oily, and the back of your neck feels tense, like someone is just staring at you? Anyway, that's what I've been feeling today. It's creepy. Maybe my Ghost/Demon buddy decided to follow me to work today. If he did, I imagine he'll go home soon, since he's probably bored out of his mind!

I'm the clumsiest moron of them all...

So I had another run in with the ghost, and I ended up hurting myself in the process. It scared me really bad at first, but then I just ended up feeling stupid. Which is certainly nothing new to me.

So I was sitting in bed, reading (I've been having trouble sleeping lately). I was reading "The Story of the Eye" By Geroges Bataille, which is probably the most disturbing book I've ever read, even more so than Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs, and it actually predates it by quite a long time. Man that's a screwed up novel. Anyway, I was lying in bed, reading, when I heard the something in the kitchen. It sounded like someone had closet one of the cupboards. I sat up and starte dlistening, unsure if maybe I was hearing things. And sure enough, I heard it again, the distinct sound of one of my cupboards opening, and another one closing. Since now I'm kind of getting used to this, I tried ignoring it. But it seemed like the more I ignored it, the more upset the ghost got, and the louder the banging was. Erik had stopped sleeping on my couch a few nights back, since again, nothing was happening but my stupid nightmares, so I was alone in the house (of course! What bad luck I have!)

So I got out of bed, threw on some random clothes that were in my room, and crept towards the door. As soon as I startedmoving though, the cupboards stopped as well. I opened the door and peared out into the hallway. Suddenyl, and completely silently, a hooded figure wearing white walked past my door in the hallway. It freaked me out so badly, and I stumbled backwards in terror. I tripped over my computer chair trying to get away form the door (it's funny how your survival instinct kind of take over, and you don't realize what you're doing), and I banged the back of my head on the computer desk corner as I fell backwards. I laid on the floor for a second, a bit dazed, when the door to my bedroom slammed shut. I don't mean the wind blew it closed, I don't mean it closed because of gravity, I mean it closed like some angry teenager had just fought with his parents and stormed off to his room and slammed the door. I slowly pulled myself to a sitting position on the floor, and felt the back of my head. There was a huge lump developing where I had hit it, and there was a little bit of blood in my hair. Also, apparently, as I was falling , I had tried to catch myself, and ripped up the cuts on my hand frm yesterday even more, because they were bleeding again,a dn my hand and head both were throbbing. But the funny thing is, as I was just sitting there, my heart pounding from the adrenaline and my body screaming at me for being so clumsy, I didn't really feel afraid, I just felt stupid. I mean, here I am, discovering and seeing things that maybe no one has ever done before, and what do I do to impress this ghost, or even demon, that's decided to visit me? I nearly knock myself out falling over my own furniture.

Maybe the ghost will leave me alone, once he realizes how completely pathetic of a person he's decided to pick on.

But now I've seen the ghost. It's definitely a ghost, and I just wish I knew what it wanted. It was rumaging around my kitchen, maybe it wanted some Captain Crunch? Sorry if I'm being flippant about the whole thing. I think it might be a coping mechanism. I mean, how am I supposed to wrap my head around something like this? It's insane!!!

The Weirdness Continues

So soemthing weird just happened. I was sitting at my desk, surfing the internet (which is what I do most of the day, after 12:00, since I usually finish most of my work by then) and with my left hand I was playing with my staple remover. You know, just kind of fiddling, not really thinking about what I was doing. Well, I was going back and reading some of the older blog entries I'd done, you know, just kind of glossing over my past. Specifically, I was reading the parts about Carrie and I, you know, kind of remenising about the good ol' days. Suddenly, one of my coworkers, Karen, said loudly "Geez JD, is your hand OK?". I looked at her puzzled, and then looked down at my hand. I must have been squeezing the staple remover really hard, becasue there was blood leaking out between my fingers, and it had formed a little pool on my desk. I opened up my hand and dropped the staple remover, and sure enough, I had a couple of deep gashes in the palm of my hand. It started to sting and ache pretty bad, which was weird, because up until then, it didn't hurt at all. I made up some lame excuse about how I was just finishing something up before I went to bandage it up to Karen, and then I went to the break room, where we keep the crappy little employee's first aid kit. I washed my hand off (there was a suprising amount of blood, and as I poked and proded the cuts to see how deep they were, Barry walked in and asked what happened. I told him I accidently cut my hand playing with my staple remover. He made fun of me, adn then helped me bandage it up, since I only had one hand to work with. Anyway, weird things just keep happening to me. I must be losing my mind. :)

the tEMPLE Has forgotten

Barry is a really, really cool guy. Everytime I talk to him, it feels like we've been friends for ages, like this isn't the first time we've met. Has anyone else ever met someone like that before? A Person who they have so much in common with, it's emediatly like you've been friends since you were six years old?

Last night he came by, and we hung out for awhile, talking about video games, movies, music, etc. And I told him about all the ghost stuff. He thought I was making it up, at first, but I think as I told him more and more details about it, he started to believe me. We practically stayed up the whole night, listening to tunes and talking about ghosts and ghost related things. I guess it wasn't the first time he'd heard stories about the supernatural from friends. Like this one guy he knew in high school, named Dan.

Last year, apparently, the guy was put in some sort of hospital by his parents, because he just lost it. Can you imagine how weird it would be though, to put your own son in a mental hospital? Obviously, it must have been a last resort for the poor kid. Most parents wouldn't think of having their kid committed as their "First Choice" for dealing with their problems, but I'm digressing here.

Evidently the guy (Dan) was a pretty normal guy in high school, not that popular, but he had friends, in a couple of activities, but by no means an overacheiver. I guess he started hearing voices (sound familiar) and seeing these people dressed all in black with hoods walking around his house. Not long after that he said things would suddenly move on their own, or go missing when no one had been in his room, things like that. Geez, doesn't that sound familiar? Leary of what most people would think, the guy didn't really talk about it al that much, he only told a coupel of his friends, but you know how that goes. Of course, after awhile, the whole school knew about it. Really, people can be pretty mean about these things, and I guess they started teasing him, calling him "Ghostbuster" and what not. Years went by, and he talked about it less and less, and became more and more reclusive and obseesive, and no body really heard anything more about him. At least, not until Barry foudn out he'd been comitted and was undergoing some serious drug therapy. Nice ending to the story, huh?

Don't get me wrong, Barry may have just been full of it, you know, trying to scare me or something. The thing is, though, it seemed like he was just telling me a story so I wouldn't feel alone, you know. Evidently Barry simply felt bad for the kid. Really, he said, who is to say whether Dan was carzy or not? Reality is such a subjective thing anyway, and how do we know that Dan was seeing the truth, and we are al deluded. Or something like that. Reality doesn't seem that dubjective to me, but then, what do I know?