Canary


He had another nickname, more of a epithet, ominous to a fault. Now it's "The Guy." Horrifying, clearly. You're shaking in your boots at such a grisly moniker. Your timbers have been shivered. Why do I act as if he'...



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Page Clicks: 2

First Seen: 05/05/2024

Last Indexed: 10/24/2024

Domain Index Total: 13



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Hello. Sorry it's been so long, I've been busy. Today seems good a time as any, I'm nearly done with my last final and it's rainy outside, but not awful. The peaceful kind of rain. Life is calm now, so calm. It's amazing! Can I be completely honest? The past few months have been super hard on me. Given what I've written, it's not difficult to see. The nightmares, the fog... it's all too much. Still, thank God that my psyche is intact . Battered, but intact. Treatment seems to be making me better. Yesterday a salesman came by and I almost took a knife to the door with me. Not to hurt an innocent man, because I was afraid it'd be someone much worse . It's horrible! He shouldn't have to worry about people like me. I didn't mean to even think such a thing! The guilt is eating me up. Self-defense isn't needed against the damned HVAC renewal company! Any rage or rancor I held to life has dissipated. I'm only deathly irritable, I try to keeping those feelings contained. Sometimes when people talk too much, I want to yell at them to SHUT UP! It feels awful, I have no control over such crude thoughts. That's why my mom's house is better for me. She leaves at 6:45 A.M. and comes back around 8:30 P.M. so I have plenty of alone time. The loneliness is brutal but I don't trust anyone. Nobody should trust me either. I'm unreliable as of now. It is the vice grip of terror, this never-ending nightmare. Makes me trepidatious. I'm so detached from myself. Imagine watching someone else through a pair of VR goggles. That's kinda what this is. Right now I'm closer than I've been in weeks. These hands are mine, and I remember it! No stimuli reminds me of then, no adrenaline is keeping me on edge. I could fall asleep right here, and my awakening would be just as calm. Often my dreams tell the same story, if I am lucky enough to beat the insomnia. Yesterday I fell asleep at 5:20. Just as light began to crest the sky again. My therapist says I should take some time off. Sent my two weeks notice a few days ago. No more retail! I got a great internship too, but my parents would hate it. Not because it's morally wrong, but because it's slightly dangerous work. I cannot stress the diminutiveness of this danger enough. A meatpacking plant? That'd be concerning. Chemicals? Don't break protocol. But this? It's nothing like that! It's an office that follows OSHA standards! My father would say people like me are all liars. My mother would say I'll get chopped up into little pieces. Suppose parents worry, do they not? It'll be fine! It's only an internship. And a mammoth industry that can be good for long-term careers. Not like my dream job is to be an underwater welder. (SUPER high occupational death rate.) Since my parents don't know though, they think I'm being lazy and not working. As much as I'd love to lose myself in work, spend every waking moment being productive, time to reflect will be good. No more distractions. No break from the past. Even if I want to forget it all. At least I'm talking about it? It's not an attempt to be cryptic, I fear if too much is said he'll come find me again. Can't even say his name! He had another nickname, more of a epithet, ominous to a fault. Now it's "The Guy." Horrifying, clearly. You're shaking in your boots at such a grisly moniker. Your timbers have been shivered. Why do I act as if he's psychic? It's beyond me. "Psychic evil creep" sounds like the plot to a shitty 80's horror movie. Right behind classics like "Surf Nazis Must Die." Except that was funny. The only real horror is the fact someone thought it was a good idea to put it in production. This just scares me, despite my feeble attempts to soothe myself. I don't remember much of the subsequent months. Apparently the morning after, a friend took me out. She thought I was on drugs. How happy I seemed, infectious joy parting from my lips. Survival of the fittest, survival I had achieved. Uncharacteristic of the sullenness and quiet that would take me over. It was in August, I think, so it was all warm and nice. You only know how much you love something when someone attempts to rip it from your hands. Who knows, maybe someday I'll be elated with the thought of life again. There's a name for that period of time, before you can comprehend your new crushing reality. You're smart, aren't you? You know it. Best to get some rest while I still can, in this docile state. Then back to graphing foci or something. I think I'll go on a walk tomorrow, a long one as to think of what should be done. Ah, the path back to normality. Maybe someday my writings will resemble less insanity. I'm hesitant to publish this as the fear is great and terrible. Talking about it is good. It'll help me, won't it? Not like the guy even knows about this place, right? Even if he did for some weird reason, he's just a guy. There's nothing to be scared of. Nothing I haven't gone through before. Best of luck to you out there, stay safe. View Comments