Everyone wishes they could change the past.

Thursday, 4 August 2011

Dreams scattered, far and wide,

They are all faces, but what do they share? The same mask.
My sleeping habits have been improving. Doctor Weiss says I can lay off the pills in a few weeks.

... who is Doctor Weiss? What pills? And my sleeping habits have been worsening, not getting better.

That's not funny. It just isn't. People died, went insane, disappeared who-knows-where. Friends and family turned on each other, and some of us have nightmares that would keep even the most emotionally numb awake at night.

Who wrote those words? It wasn't me, yet they feel like I have put them out. From the deepest recesses of my brain, just below the surface thoughts.

Curiously, I can get on the internet, but all sites except this one (which was set as the homepage) are blocked. Even worse, there was a note taped to this computer: Write or the Shadowmen will come.

I'm writing I'm writign I'm eirng. the shadpowmebsj won't go away thyeyr'e in my head thheia  in my head i can't Gwr them out. Gethe m oiut pleaseekk.

Cladsdjss down Calmd own ocaln down.

... sorry about that, I just... my head. It hurts. Like there's four trains of thought, colliding and crashing but that doesn't stop them, they just keep going on and on and on. Is this... Him? Is this His doing?

oh god the air. It's stale it's cold it's on edge, it's just that like place. The same smell the same feel oh god He's here I have tog et ou ti have to get out
-Achromatic Morality-

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