Endless

My last post was a little…incoherent. Let me start over. My name is unimportant, all that matters is what I have to say.

I can see…things. Things hiding between the walls of our world and the next. Things that want nothing more than to break down those walls and feast on us. I’m not alone. 

I wish I was insane. I wish I was like the others, able to stand up to the dark or to tune it out and pretend that nothing is going on. I wish none of this was for real. I wish anyone who read this would believe me.

All of that is impossible. And it hurts. Not just in a metaphorical sense, but a literal, physical pain that pervades my every waking hour with these things. I don’t know how long I can go on, and I don’t know how long until they realize I can see them.


Or until they realize that I know they see -me-.