It’s hard for me to sleep. Well, I imagine it’s hard for everybody to sleep sometimes, but I think it’s harder for me than a lot of people. My family, my friends, my co-workers, a couple of doctors all tell me that I’m suffering from insomnia. This doesn’t make me feel any better.

I know what it is and I appreciate the concern of my loved ones but at the end of the day, that support doesn't help me. I went to a doctor but there doesn't appear to be anything horrendously wrong with me. There's some prescriptions available but the side-effects range from jock-itch to suicide watch; they're not covered by my insurance anyway, so the point is kind of moot.

This journal was offered as another alternative. It's a way to put my thoughts to bed so that the rest of me can follow. It's cheap and easy, but I'm not really sure how well this is going to work. I suppose I can browse the internet for other things to get me to sleep too, but this is my best shot right now.

I'm going to try some chamomile tea tonight, wish me luck.


Is there any irony that I work at a coffee shop and have sleep issues? There must be something in there somewhere. Maybe having somebody share my bed would help. More than that would be better, but baby steps, right? It’s hard to imagine anybody wanting to jump on to this hot mess the way I am right now though.

Where could we go for our first date I wonder, maybe coffee shop across the street? It’s probably better not to dwell on this too terribly much lest I add to my laundry list of inadequacies. I’m going to try some warm milk to get to bed.


Why the hell is it so damn hot at night lately?! Heat may not be the root cause of my issues, but it’s definitely a factor. I’m getting an air conditioner tomorrow; gonna crank the temp down so that I’m not drenched in sweat at all hours of the night. Tonight I’m going to try a sleep track on my phone.


It’s been a while since I’ve actually had to write anything, which is very good news. The air conditioner helped my problems immensely. The cold air was refreshing; I liked that my feet were a little chilly, but I don’t think that’s what actually “fixed” me. The first night, I got into bed at 10:00 like I do every night, but instead of lying uncomfortably for hours before getting up to try writing and another home remedy, I fell asleep immediately and restfully.

There’s just something about the gentle hum of the fan that puts me straight out. I’ve already been doing better at work; I may not be up for barista of the year, but my concentration has improved along with my memory and I’m able to get through the lines quicker. Things are certainly looking up, all thanks to the slow hum of the air conditioner. No remedy tonight.


I figured out why the air conditioner helps me sleep! When I was a kid, we lived in a smallish house that didn’t have a very good heating or cooling system. To compensate and keep everything cool during the hot summer months, my dad installed a GIGANTIC fan in the hallway that would pull air from the house and out through the roof. That fan also made noise proportional to its size so that over time I must’ve subconsciously associated the fan noise with sleepy times. My little air conditioner scratched that long forgotten itch for me and put me out.

I’ve been good for what…about a month now? Lately there’s been something…off. Just my mind playing tricks on me, but it’s gotten me back here to write. I actually feel kind of tired just after getting this all down, I should be fine without any remedies tonight.


There’s a girl who keeps coming around every day at work that I think might be interested in me. Her name is Laura, unless the name on her cup is some Vegas-style ploy to retain anonymity. She’s very warm and always smiles at me. I was sick a day last week and she asked me how I was when I got back; she does a lot of subtle little things like that.

I thought most of it just me reading too much into the situation, but the other day she asked if I had any plans with my girlfriend. When I told her I didn’t have anybody like that in my life, she smiled and told said “that’s too bad, you seem like a great guy.” I’m not good at reading women, but I think that’s a good sign.

On a more sour note, I think I may have a mild form of tinnitus. Sometimes I hear noises at night that aren’t there. I looked it up on the internet and tinnitus seems like the most likely cause. It’s more common in people with depression and can manifest itself in forms other than just ringing. It’s really hard to describe, but sometimes there are just…well noises at night that I know aren’t real.

I’m having trouble sleeping tonight, but it’s not my normal problem, I’m just excited. I’m going to ask Laura out tomorrow if I see her. For now, I’m going to watch some re-runs of “How it’s Made” to try to tire myself out a bit.


Had a date with Laura, she’s a lot of fun! She’s a biology student about to start her master’s program. Kind of makes my AA in English seem a lot more insignificant than it already was. Sure, I can tell her when to use a semi-colon, but she is just full of so much more interesting information.

We got pizza at this small little place downtown and hung around the bar for hours. It’s funny, she’s the beer drinker and I’m the wine guy. We both love a drink every once in a while but for completely different reasons. I like the tradition more than anything else, comparing the differences between a good Cabernet and Pinot Noir by discussing bouquet, body, legs and so forth.

Laura likes her beer in a large part because of the “reverence she has for industrious microbes” as she put it. I tried a little of the beer she was enjoying at her insistence and it did open my eyes a bit. For the longest time I thought that beer was either Budweiser, Guinness, or some horribly bitter IPA, but the “Belgian Wit” tasted much better than any of those.

We had a really good time and made plans for a second date, with her still planning to buy coffee from me daily. I know you’re supposed to wait 3 days or something to even call the person after the first date, but I don’t think I’m going to mind seeing her again so soon.

It’s been getting warmer so the air conditioner is running pretty much nonstop now. My self-diagnosed tinnitus has been incessant too. I don’t really hear it during the day, but it's very persistent when I sleep. I wish it were just a simple ringing, that would be so much easier to deal with. I’m tired enough for now though, I think I can get some sleep without it bugging me too much.


Things have been going fantastic with Laura, we really have a lot of fun together, and I spent the night there last week once. However, there have been some problems I’ve been dealing with myself recently. Whenever I'm with her, things are fine but when I'm by myself things are a little different.

I’m going to get right down to it. I haven’t been able to sleep lately and it's because…I think I’m hearing voices. I sound absolutely insane just writing that down like some kind of confession.

It sounds deranged, but I’m not sure how else to put it. It’s not like some deep, Barry White voice that tells me to kill my parents and burn down orphanages or anything. I’m not being told to kill myself or any other stereotypical thing you’re supposed to hear fake voices in your head tell you to do.

The voices are somehow coming out of the white noise made by my air conditioner. Nothing is talking to me, but I can hear, well, something. It sounds like somebody took an audio sample of a loaded cafeteria and then turned the volume all the way off before up just a click. It’s a periphery cacophony, if that makes any sense. It’s white noise, but at the same time, it’s not. You can just BARELY discern that there are patterns in the noise, language, but you can’t make any of it out.

This has been going on for a while now. At first I thought it was just something I left on, maybe some banner ad on my computer that deiced to start up. When I sat up in bed though, the sound was gone. I laid back down to sleep and just as I was getting comfy, the noise returned. I got all the way out of bed this time and double checked that everything in the apartment was off before trying to sleep again. The noises keep coming back.

Sometimes it sounds like a random gathering of people, dozens of them. Other times it sounds like only two or three are having a private conversation. Yesterday I thought I heard a song. A song that was familiar to me, something that I wanted to listen to, something that I liked, but I just couldn’t hear it well enough. I wanted to hear it. I wanted to know what it was so damn badly, but there wasn’t a song or music or anything. There was only me looking sleepily at the air conditioner. Going to try Dramamine and a turkey sandwich tonight.


My chronic insomnia is back. The voices seem like they’re always there and It’s worse when I close my eyes. It feels like somebody is talking about me just in the other room and I can’t stand it! Laura has noticed I’ve been sleeping worse than when we first starting seeing each other and she was worried it somehow being her fault; she’s sweet like that.

I told her I really valued her and it was not in any way because of something she did. It made her feel a little better, but she didn’t seem to be entirely relieved. I haven’t told her the reason I’ve been awake of late, after all what would she do if she learned that her new boyfriend was defective out of the box? For now, I think it better to keep this to myself.

I’ve tried speaking back a couple times to the voices, but they don’t change their volume or pause or acknowledge my protests in any way. It’s annoying to say the least. Then there’s that song in the noise, I know I’ve heard it but I just can’t remember where. I’ve tried searching for hours on end online for something that sounds similar, but nothing compared. I wish I could hear it clearly enough that I could replicate it, to create some evidence for it, but nobody else can hear it but me.

I just need something to give Laura before I tell her what I’m going through so that she won't think I'm completely insane. Fuck, I think I’m insane, how do I convince her of something I don’t believe myself? I just need that proof!


I removed the air conditioner and drove it down to my parent’s house yesterday after work. They live nearby and have enough junk in the garage that they won’t mind losing an extra two cubic feet. It’s going to be hot at home, but maybe this will quiet down the noise just a little bit so that I don’t scare Laura away. The device that served as my security blanket was driving me crazier than I already was. Even though it’s gone, I sometimes still think I can hear that siren song and just want to listen to those familiar melodies that only exist in my head a little more intently. Maybe I AM over the edge.

I’m going to try watching the weather channel to fall asleep tonight.


I’m hearing it everywhere now: the whispers, the conversations, but most of all, the music. It’s in all white noise. I hear it while making some asshole’s latte, in the hum of my computer, in car engines. and on the wind when there’s nothing else around me.

It’s the music that gets to me the most still. I have no way to describe it. I can't read music at all and writing like this is not a great medium to relay sounds. I don't even know if the physical sounds even matter! There's just something about the way it makes you feel that there is no earthly way to explain.

I haven’t talked to Laura in a while; she can’t see me like this. I want this to stop, but at the same time, part of me wants and needs to know where the voices are coming from. I’m afraid that is the part of me that will end up destroying everything else.

I’m…I’m going to the doctor tomorrow. This needs to end, I don’t care how much those pills cost, and this has to stop. I need to sleep. Maybe I’ve just been awake for too long. I’m going to try ginseng tea and honey. If that doesn’t work then cough syrup and vodka. I need to sleep.


I didn’t make it to the doctor’s or to work today. Last night, just before I fell asleep, one of the voices came to me in the dark of my room. I couldn't move my body but I wasn't afraid. The voice belonged to some kind of shadow. It was tall, stretching to the ceiling in the corner opposite my bed and vaguely humanoid.

The thing (I think it was male) spoke to me. It was still a whisper but when I concentrated on it I could understand the words. It told me that only certain people could hear the conversations and music, that I was somehow special. However I should have been able to hear everything easily. My inability to understand everything was a definite short coming.

There was good news though; I could prove myself worthy through appropriate sacrifice. To listen to the most perfect music in the world, I had to shed my imperfections. To understand the immortal, I had to spill my mortality. He told me, I needed to let my own blood run to show my devotion.

I went to the kitchen and removed a chef knife from the drawer. I walked to my tiny kitchen table and sat down with the blade before me and my arms at my side. I stared at it, the beautiful, glistening tool, but did nothing else.

It must have gone on for hours, me remaining unmoving and unblinking at the table, like a mannequin in a kitchen goods store. The sun began to rise and lighten my curtains but I remained still until my phone rang. It was Laura. She said “good morning” to me and asked me how I was.

I stood up and replied “I'm fine, what are you up to, babe?” as I quietly returned the knife to its hiding spot. We talked like nothing was out of the ordinary for a good 15 minutes before making lunch plans together and I hung up the phone. I had walked back to my room at some point during the conversation. Suddenly aware of what had just transpired, I sat down on my mattress and stared at the floor with my face in my hands.

I have no idea how I got in to a situation where I almost caused harm to myself. I was, and am, terrified at what had just happened. If nothing else, I knew that I could never tell Laura what had just gone on, how would she look at me in the morning?


Everything has been fine for the past week. I've been spending a lot of time with Laura, and while I'm with her, nothing speaks to me. I feel completely normal with her, and everything is fantastic. We went bowling together and by all metrics we seem like the perfect couple. We laugh, we joke, we smile, we kiss, and everything is perfect.

My insomnia has been mild, but completely manageable and I've been spending more nights with her. It takes me a little bit to fall asleep some nights, but I still trail off within 10 minutes of Laura. Thankfully, the shadow has not returned in all this time either. I hope and even pray that I never see it again, and I'm utterly terrified of the entity but a part of me wants it to come again some night. It's the same part of me that misses the siren song. I'm worried that it's the only part of me that's being honest.


Laura is out of town for the next week, she's staying with family for the Fourth somewhere in the middle part of the country. I try to talk to her whenever I can, but my mind is starting to go south. I'm having a much harder time sleeping again and I've been trying heavier and heavier remedies.

Whenever I'm about to fall asleep I'm reminded of the apparition that visited me weeks ago and I bolt awake. Last night, I ended up drinking until I felt nothing at all and then stared at the corner hoping that my shadow demon would not return. Eventually my consciousness slipped away. I think I'll have a similar vigil tonight.


He came to me last night, clearer than before. He seemed shorter this time and more human-like, but no less terrifying. He spoke to me again, expressing disappointment in me, “why do you consistently refuse to live up to your potential?”

“I don't know,” I stammered back, “I'm sorry!”

“Show me then. Show me how sorry you are. How can you possibly deserve everything you possess? You need to make this right.”

I was in bed, I looked down and the same knife from earlier was now on the ground. I looked back towards the shadow, he had not moved at all. His invisible stare bored into my soul and I averted my eyes downward before my heart froze within my chest. The knife was now in my hand.

“Show me that you are sorry and you will feel better.” It was not a voice, it was a thought within my own head. I raised the blade to my wrist before slowly glancing at the apparition once more. He seems to encourage me, pleased at last by my action. “You will feel better,” I heard in my head.

My right hand slipped and I felt a cold drag on the skin of my left arm before a warm moisture. It hurt, but not for long. As my blood flowed, I finally heard the choir clearly. The music I had been chasing for months, as clear as water, as crystal, as life. There is no describing it, or the way it made me feel. My eyes slowly closed and my troubles left me. The demon was gone, insomnia was gone, financial troubles were gone, familial pressure gone, my future gone. I worried about nothing.

I'm...still here obviously. I woke up in my bed, sheets now stained with blood that came from my wrist. The gash was deep and the edges of skin looked like a rubber mask that didn't mesh quite right at your neck. The interior of the crevice glistened with fluid and a dark, ugly scab was just starting to form.

I don't know why I did this, but I know one thing: I can't tell anybody. Nobody would look at me the same way knowing that I had almost died because a shadow told me I wasn't good enough. Laura can't know, there's no way she'd stay with me. A perfect girl like that would leap from her broken man and find one more in her league in an instant. I'll be okay, Laura is coming back soon and everything will go back to normal.

My arm hurts beyond all belief. I'll remember this if that demon ever comes back and use it to halt his advances. I'll use this like an alcoholic might use the worst hangover of his life to stop the booze. It'll work, I can be strong, I know I am. I'm going to text Laura now and see how she is, it's probably around lunch time where she is.


Laura came back. We went out to dinner after I picked her up from the airport. She asked me why I was wearing long sleeves in July. I responded with something about light and airy clothes being used in deserts to reflect the glare of the sun and keep cool.

“Oh, so you’re going for some chic sheikh look huh?”

I smiled back, “yeah, something like that.”

She told me all about her trip: talking to her mom and aunt and uncle that she hadn’t seen in years again, the huge thunderstorms that are a complete anomaly here, and the feud she still has with her sister, Julie.

That woman is so damn entitled. She married some guy in the navy and just stays at home all day without a job and complains that she doesn’t have enough money for things. If she’s not bitching about that, then it’s about how she doesn’t get out enough. Both problems, incidentally, would be solved by her getting a damn job.

When we first sat down, I was pretty tense, but as we talked I just felt my anxiety melt away. At first, I had a hard time looking her in the eyes, only giving quick responses and maybe a well-timed “uh huh” as she described her adventurers in middle-America. Laura’s charming disposition however, made me more and more interested as the conversation progressed. By the time she was done venting about Julie, we were both making jokes about first world problems together and laughing heartily.

“I’ve already flipped through all the channels on the TV and watched 4 hours of the people’s court. Now I’m bored and don’t know what to do. Nobody in the world has it as bad as me!”

“I don’t have enough money to get Etsy throw pillows on both couches of this two bedroom apartment that I don’t have to work for.”

We giggled, ordered some drinks, and went mini golfing down the street. We spent all day together and then all night. I’m glad she’s back


My father committed suicide last night. Mom found him at the dinner table, an empty bottle of Jack beneath his chair, both his wrists cut open, and his favorite utility knife dropped near the whiskey. She called 911 as soon as she could, but he was long gone. The paramedics called it on the spot and they carried him out. There was no note. Mom is planning the funeral to be held next weekend. I’m going to sleep at Laura’s tonight. I haven’t told her yet. I haven’t told anybody yet.


A lot of people showed up. Dad just had a certain charisma about him and made friends everywhere and anywhere he went. Some of these people had only known him for a few weeks many years ago, but so great was his personality that they still came to pay their respects to the fallen carpenter. When I reminisce about my childhood, I always wondered if Dad was just a bigger person in my mind than he was in reality because he was my father, but this showing of condolences seems to indicate that he really was larger than life itself.

The wake took place at my parents’ house. Well… I suppose it’s just Mom’s house now. It was hot outside, but bearable inside, even with all these unfamiliar faces milling about. It was all the stranger in my mind, because when I was growing up, the only source of cool air was a result of the attic fan, but that would dissipate very quickly as people entered and left the building. I asked Mom about it, and I did not like her answer.

“The attic fan? Oh dear, that thing died years ago. I wanted to hire a repairman but, well you know your father. He wanted to fix it himself, but he never had time. We found your air conditioner in the garage though. Your father thought it might be broken, but it seemed to work fine. We put it in the bedroom, it’s running right now.”

As soon as she mentioned my air conditioner my blood ran cold. I saw mom’s mouth moving but I didn’t hear a single thing she said. It was like a bomb had just gone off next to me; I felt myself losing balance and could hear nothing but a high-pitched ringing.

“Sorry, I’ll be back, excuse me.” I walked quickly into the backyard, trying to escape the walls closing in on me. There were people everywhere. I just had to hide. If I could hide for just a second everything would be okay. I fled to the front yard, walked to the park down the street sat down next to the tree that was my childhood best friend. This was where I grew up, I knew where to go so that nobody would bother me.

This was all because of the air conditioner. Dad didn’t know what it was, but I did. I knew exactly what it was, but I just left it at my parents’ home. If I hadn’t, Dad would still be here, none of these people would be here, and mom wouldn’t be so sad. This was all my fault. I’m so sorry Dad.


Laura eventually found me crying against my tree. I had apparently been gone a very long time and Mom was starting to worry. I didn’t tell her why I was crying, it was bad enough that she had seen me crying at all, I was not about to tell her I was the one who had caused this entire disaster.

Despite my mortal guilt, just having her next to me was a great comfort. Every time I started to feel a little uplifted though, I would be completely overcome with another wave of guilt. What had I done? What would people think of me? Laura would never hug me again.


The shadow still visits me some nights, but I’ve been strong enough to resist him for the most part. He comes when I’m by myself, so I try to spend as many evenings with Laura as I can. I feel him before he comes. When I sense him, I brace myself mentally and take a swig of something.

For a while, it was gin, but that’s gone now. I went to whiskey after that, but that’s gone too. Next in line was rum. Laura noticed an empty rum bottle on my table a few nights ago and asked me “what happened to the rum?”

Without missing a beat I told her, “rum is a vile drink that turns respectable men into complete scoundrels.”

Then Laura shot back just as quickly “Yes, I know, but why’s all the rum gone?!” in her best Jack Sparrow and we both had a laugh. The shadow did not come that night. Somehow, I always seem to be in the kitchen when he does. I’ll be sitting down at the table, my willpower fortified with liquid courage; I’ve worked myself through my favorite spirits to vodka now, which I think makes this Russian courage.

He’ll appear in the opposite seat and our battle begins. I stare him in the eyes and try my best to not look down. Over time, the demon's appearance has taken on a more definite human shape now that I think about it. I can't look down at the table, because I know that the knife is there, waiting patiently for me to take it up. If I don't avert my eyes, I have a good chance of winning. He'll tell me of the things I've done wrong, of the things I should have done by now, of the things that could have been before informing me that I could make it all right again by listening to Him.

I made the mistake early on of glancing down at the table. The knife was beautiful in the way it reflected the pale light above the table along its surface. The way the blade tapered to a point both length-wise and from spine to edge. It was a forged blade, and had a full tang which the handle was constructed around.

I ran a finger from the tip backwards along the spine to the handle, feeling it grow slowly thicker. The next thing I knew, it was firmly in my hand. Then it was on my wrist. Then I returned it to the table, after having used it. The monster had won because I had become mesmerized by the elegance of the weapon. Worse, He rewarded me again.

I sliced a different part of my arm each time, and the pain seemed even greater than the first incident, but the euphoria was equally greater. My eyes rolled back and my lids shuttered. The feeling of blood slowly leaving my body was cathartic, like I had finally done something right in my life.

I deserved the pain because I was imperfect, but the pleasure I experienced more than made up for the cost of admission. When I came back to my senses, I looked across the table and He was gone, having left me to my pain sometime after I had committed the act. Shame would then come to replace elation.

I spend most nights doing battle. I win many times and he simply returns to whatever dark place that had spawned him, but my victories are hollow. My surrender is the only thing that actually feels rewarding. I’m relieved when I stay with Laura, but there have actually been times when I slept by myself purposefully to incur this combat.

Every time I lose, I feel a little bit better. However, I know that a piece of me was now gone forever. I don’t know how this is going to get any better, but something will have to happen soon. Right now, I don’t even know which side I want to win my soul, the selfish gratification of surrender or the dull and normative existence I had been enjoying before He came in to my life.

Laura is calling me, I think I might go over tonight, but I’m not entirely sure.


Mom called this morning. I was still in a complete stupor from my vigil the prior night and missed it, so she left a message.

“Mark, honey, are you okay? I think I talk to your girlfriend more often than you these days. You know, she’s worried about you too. I know how hard you took what happened to your father, but we’re here for you. We love you; you can talk to us whenever you want. Sometimes I worry that you have a little too much of your father in you, please call me back.”

I think I should call her. But I know I won’t. I don’t want to hurt anybody else like I did Dad.


Laura found out about what I’ve been doing to myself.

We were at the mall, trying on watches. I enjoy a nice analogue timepiece for the same reason I like wine, the tradition of the whole thing. They’ve always seemed like a very practical kind of status symbol, but I don’t get out to do much shopping for myself, so I haven’t actually worn one in at least a couple years.

Laura heard about that and just couldn’t let that stand. We were in the shop, looking at some things that were drastically outside of my price range, some cheap modern pieces that I found aesthetically abhorrent, as well as more than a few Goldilocks choices. She noticed though, that I had been putting them on to my right arm, while the sleeve on the left was still in place.

“I thought you were right handed,” she remarked.

I knew where she was going with that statement, but I tried to play it cool. “Yeah, I think it’s easier to look at my dominant hand,” I told her.

“That’s silly; you know it’s supposed to go on the opposite hand. You love watches and tradition and nonsense, you should know that.” She moved faster than I could block and pulled up my left sleeve, revealing the tally of my defeats at my demon. I saw the joy leave her face to be replaced with a mix of worry and horror. “What happened?” she asked barely above a whisper.

“I was making dinner while watching a movie on my phone and had an accident. I should have been paying more attention.” Laura didn't believe that for a second. She dropped my arm and embraced me tightly, keeping me in her arms long enough that people were starting to notice. I ended up pushing her away.

“Look, I'm just a normal guy okay? You don't need to pity me.” I wiped from moisture from the side of my head where Laura's had been resting.

“It's not pity! I'm just worried for your well-being. You've always been down on yourself. I'm worried that your self-deprecating side is going to get the better of you unless we do something about it.”

I wanted to tell her about the shadow, but I couldn't. This wasn't because I was just some weak minded kid; something was making me do this to myself. But if I told her about some supernatural shadow that comes in to my apartment at night when I can't sleep and plays music for me if I hurt myself, that pity in her eyes would only become worse. I couldn't stand the thought of that.

I smiled back at her weakly, “you're right. I'll get help. First thing tomorrow, for now, I think it'll be best for me if we can just enjoy our time together like nothing is wrong. Is that okay?”

Laura stared at me for a while before nodding. I pulled my sleeve back down and we tried on a couple more watches before leaving the store without purchasing anything. Things weren't the same anymore. She walked me home afterwards and asked if she could stay with me for the night, but I turned her down. She pleaded with me, tears began to stream from her eyes.

“Please let me stay. Just let me in, I want to help.” I almost conceded too, but I had to do this for both of our sakes.

“I'll be fine, I'll call you first thing in the morning and everything will be fine.” I closed the door with her on the other side. She was openly sobbing now. The palms of her hands hit the door as she used it for support as the rest of her fell to the ground. I heard her hands slowly slide downward as she cried outside for almost 20 minutes. I had to remain strong though, I had to get that proof that I wasn't crazy, that I wasn't needy so that we could be together as equals. This was for the good of both of us.

I needed to fight this creature alone and win so that I could stay with Laura. Tonight, I will show everybody that I'm strong, including that monster.


Dear Diary,

It's been about two months since Mark killed himself and I still don't feel much better. I called the police as soon as I found reception, but they weren't able to get to him in time. Dr. Cooper says this isn't my fault, but it's hard not to feel that way. If I had just forced myself inside, this never would have happened!

I should have seen the signs so much earlier. He was acting just like when my dad did before he...did the same. That was more than ten years ago, but I still remember how aloof he was: trying to spend as much physical time with us while he slowly drifted away emotionally. I just wish I had done something different.

Mark left a short note basically saying that he was sorry for hurting us but that this would be better in the long run. Something about finding out his best wasn't good enough for anything. It figures. The man was always so traditional in his tastes that he decided to be a minimalist in his last words as well. Dammit Mark! Why couldn't you have just been more open?! Why couldn't I have just looked a little harder?!

I'm sorry Diary. I ruined a couple of your pages. I'll try to scrapbook something nice in them after they dry to make it up to you. Dr. Cooper said I should be writing in you to make me feel better after all of this mess. This isn't you fault, and you're actually really helping me. It's been hard sleeping alone, but you've been helping with that too. There's something I wanted to tell you though because I don't know who else to bring it up to.

Well, you know how it's been weirdly hot still and I ended up borrowing that old air conditioner from Mark's mom? Well, the thing has been making weird noises. At first I thought it was just my imagination playing tricks on me, but the noises are starting to sound like voices or something.

Crazy right? Maybe I'm just a little too tired and my brain is just being weird. Anyway, I'll let you know how things go. I've got another session with Dr. Cooper today so I need to head off soon. I don't think I'll tell her about the noises though; I'm just sad, not crazy. I don't want her to think I'm too weird or anything.

Written by GodlyBob
Content is available under CC BY-SA