Update - A quiet day

Nothing much has happened today. I ate, drank, lord forbid I even slept a little. My significant other is more than a little drunk, very giggly, and spending the night at her friend's house. In fact, she'd intermittently on the phone to me, even while I type this.

She keeps telling me she loves me.

Which makes me smile.

Smiles are a little rarer than I'd like these days. A fuse broke or something this morning, and managed to blow out all the ceiling lamps when it did. I'm currently sitting in darkness, with only a small desk lamp and my screen for light.

Oh, and the streetlight from outside, of course. Still projecting creepy shadows from that damn tree onto my wall as well. If I were ten, I'd be quite terrified.

Instead, I feel only unease.

Perhaps I should see a psychiatrist. This presence is still following me, and the whispers I only really thought I'd been hearing until now are definitely a thing - though quiet enough that they could pass for blood rushing in my ears.

Only I'm a medical student, and I know that that's not what that would sound like.

I think.

Maybe.

I hope.

I don't know. Maybe I am incompetent. Maybe I am being stalked by an eldritch abomination. I'm certainly acting like I am. Paranoia, deja vu, forgetfulness-cum-amnesia, and -

A nosebleed. My nose is bleeding. Literally right now. Let me get a tissue quickly.

Ah yes. Kleenex. Friend to teenagers everywhere, and now, friend to me. I would apologise for my absence, but I doubt you felt it, given that you're just reading a blog post. I mean, I hope you're reading this. As much as the Brit in me is whipping me mentally for admitting this, I'm...

I don't want to feel alone right now.

Ignoring the fact that I don't feel alone, that I feel very much watched, I've been feeling isolated more and more recently. Zack hasn't spoken to me in a week - not out of malice, I think (I hope) he's just busy - and my dear girl seems to be spending more time away.

Hm.

No. She just told me she loves me again. And she can't lie when she's drunk. Also, she says 'Hello, internets.'

Hello, Internets.

Actually, I know she doesn't read this blog, but I've been contemplating showing it to her - telling her about... this. Whatever it is. She's an extremely understanding woman, and stunningly intelligent. She would know what to do.

But would that just be 'see a doctor'?

Correction. It would be 'See a doctor again.'

Maybe I shouldn't be drinking; my head's just gone off on a painful, migraine based tangent again, and she's devolving into fits of laughter - I think she's playing with her friend's cat - and it's really very late over here. I am excruciatingly tired. As in, my bones are tired. It's a deep kind of tired.

Soul tired. Like there's something draining me.

I wonder if it has a face.

Hehe. Now I'm drunk too.

Night, you lot.

~ Kev Elliot

PS: Forgot to wish you a happy Hallowe'en. Happy late Hallowe'en.