cael113

Woke up with a hell of a hangover. Sounded like muddy fists slamming into the inside of my skull. It took me a few minutes to realize it was actually outside my door. I got up and jammed my foot against the bottom of the door to prevent it from being tore out of my hands and turned the knob. Sure enough the girl from down the hall threw her weight against the door trying to get in. She was snarling, fighting like an animal!           Her hands grasped at the side of the door, shoving more with dead weight than with muscle. Blood dripped from the ruins of her flesh. She had been banging on the door a long time. I could see bone and wet meat.

I started this journal because my therapist, who is almost certainly dead now, said it would help with the urges. She said if I could get it out of my head and onto paper, maybe it would help me to suppress. It's worked for a long time. It's been twelve years since the last episode, 12 long years of fitting in with the rest of society. I'm not stopping just because the shit hit the fan.           I woke up to the girl down the hall, the one that watched me so carefully in the laundry room last night, banging on my door and screaming. Of course I let her in. I'm doing better but I'm still human. When I opened the door she was covered in bloo

Fucking neighbors! Woke up this morning to the damn Doomsayers banging on the door again. 'Today is the last day to get right with God and let Jesus into your heart. Tomorrow is the end of the world!' I'm right here, assholes. And I don't need a shower of spit to wake me up. Of course I didn't say it. Just smile and nod like always, talk out my ass for a minute or two and they'll leave to bother some other poor Hell-bound soul. God, is it Friday yet?          Late for work again. Damn trains. You'd think I'd learn to leave early on Thursdays. Maybe next week. Maybe not. Who gives a shit. It's a damn department store. We're pretty much in a