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.

:)