Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

Hell.

Err, hello, I mean. sweatdrop

Greetings, journal and your readers~! Whaddup? cool

It feels like it's been forever since I last wrote a normal journal entry. What IS a normal journal entry, you may ask? Well, I'm not quite to sure of that myself. Haha. 4laugh I mean, the topic I decided to cover today could potentially be a Confession Session worthy subject, but times have changed and what I'll be revealing now may not hold true still.

... Was that a run-on sentence? *overly dramatic gasp* emotion_jawdrop I'm going to be taking ELA this coming semester so... for now, at least, consider me uneducated in the ways of English. blaugh

Anyway, I'll just rant on about my chosen idea. Rants, I suppose! Rants are kinda my normal entries, aren't they? Ah, I should read back in my journal archives. I've forgotten myself, you see?

*ahem* Moving along...

I haven't a clue how long this journal entry is going to be, so... ha. I did mention in the previous entry that I'd write a shorter entry, didn't I? Oh wells~! Times change and things change with time. cat_3nodding

When I was a kid, I was prone to hallucinations. Like, I'm not even kidding (why would I kid in my own journal?). I'm talking about full-on hallucinations.

Vivid, yes, very vivid.

As I grew older, I started getting scared of what my mind conjured. I don't know if my delusions got more gruesome or if my interpretations of them got... darker? Regardless, the point stands that I grew to fear my imagination.

I had friends. Some might call them imaginary friends, some might call them fake friends. They... lacked a body, I suppose.

From what I hear and read and watch, most people experience imaginary friends as a visual phenomenon in addition to being able to physically interact with them. They were just like normal people to most kids, eh?

I guess I'm an oddball when it comes to my childhood.

I never saw my imaginary friends. I never drew them because they didn't possess an appearance. Nonetheless, they existed. I knew for a fact that they were there with me.

Who are they, you might be wondering?

I had a lot of imaginary friends. In fact, I had a class of imaginary girls that I would teach. I had one male imaginary friend.

His name was Frank. He was a lot older than me and I didn't understand him most of the time. I mean, really, you try to be a kid and understand grownup talk! eek 'Tis quite the challenge, but he talked to me a lot anyway.

Oh, yes. I forgot to mention. I could hear them. The voices of my imaginary friends shan't be doubted. They could speak and speak they did. They made their presence very obvious to me despite how I couldn't actually see them.

Anyhow, Frank. Frank, Frank, Frank, what happened to you?

We spent a lot of time together. I remember the day he disappeared.

We were drawing, him and I. What were we drawing again, Frank? I forgot. Anyhow, I was a little kid at the time and I was kind of retarded.

And by kind of, I mean extremely.

We were finished our drawing and I started writing our names on the page. You know, to credit the artists and whatnot.

L

U

C

I

A

There. Lucia.

F

R

E

...

No...

F

R

E

... Nope. Not that.

F

R

E

A

... Definitely not that.

F

R

E

A

K

Freak? No, not that.

F

R

E

A

K

Gosh darnit, freak again?

No matter how many times I tried, I couldn't spell Frank's name! And he could've told me, but he didn't. Scattered several times along the margin of the page, "Freak, Freak, Freak, Freak."

I just... couldn't do it. And I'm sorry, Frank, that I couldn't do it. I couldn't spell your name and instead repeatedly wrote "Freak."

You're not a freak, Frank. You're not.

I never heard from him again. It was after that little incident that I created my class of girls. (I needed imaginary friends, you see? In a house full of people, it got lonely surprisingly often.) I don't remember all of them to be completely honest. I just know that they, too, were invisible.

They could... take over my body.

"Why don't you come up here and write you name on the board, Elsie?" I'd invite one of my imaginary students.

I couldn't see it, but I knew Elsie had stood up and approached me. Then I took the chalk and wrote "Elsie" in curly cursive letters.

There was Elsie, Elise, Elizabeth, Carmen (random? I know) and a few others.

I have a feeling there was an Ellie, but I think that was short for Elizabeth.

Oh! And how could I forget the twins? There were these two girls, Elimy and Emily. I always got the two mixed up and I wonder if they got annoyed of me.

My dearest apologies, Elimy and Emily~! To this day, I still can't accurately distinguish between the two of you.

Dear reader, though, you have to understand that it was hard to tell these two apart for the only real thing that proved they were there were their voices. Only their voices and nothing else. They didn't have any distinct physical features because, well, they didn't have any physical features at all.

Carmen was a smart one. I remember thinking of her name. I remember thinking of all their names. At the time, I thought Carmen was a pretty creative name. I went through several syllables prior to piecing together Carmen's name. Originally, I spelled her name as "Karmen" because those were the syllables I came up with. However, something about "Carmen" just seemed... right, you know?

I know now that there are people in this world by the name of Carmen, but, welp, yeah.

These girls were really smart. Perhaps even smarter than me which is kind of ironic seeing as they came from my brain. I taught them really often, too. Back when I was a kid, I had a lot of free time and, being a kid, I didn't want to spend it all alone.

Carmen, Elsie, Elise, Elizabeth "Ellie," Emily, and Elimy. These girls only composed one of my classes.

See, I taught an imaginary class for years upon years and every year was a different class. I know a lot of the previously mentioned students stayed, but there were some that came and go and left a mysteriously small indent on my memory bank.

It goes without saying (then why am I saying it...?) that my students and Frank were friendly hallucinations.

Hold up, hold up, hold up, Lucia! They were hallucinations? I thought you said they were invisible!

Well, yes, they were invisible. I couldn't feel them either. I never tried, but I doubt I'd be able to taste them. They possessed no scent as far as I'm concerned. I could only hear them. You know what that makes them?

Still hallucinations. Get yer' facts straight. There exists several forms of hallucinations and I experienced auditory hallucinations.

But my mind wasn't limited to harmless voices. I saw... things.

I wrote about it as a kid. I liked writing as a kid so I kind of wrote a lot. However, I don't always enjoy my written works.

"Today, I saw her again." Do you know how terrifying it is for me to read stuff like that? The sentence itself doesn't generate a fright. Who wrote it? Me. That's what's scary.

I remember this hallucination in particular because I saw her so often.

She... wasn't exactly invisible. She lacked a body, but somehow, she blocked off light. In other words, she had a shadow. To me, she only existed as a shadow. She would pass by my bedroom door late, late at night.

Why did I notice?

Well, being a victim of insomnia, I used to always stare out my door while waiting to fall asleep (I still do). I harbour a phobia of darkness, so I keep my lamp turned on and that’s what creates the atmosphere for her shadow to appear.

Tall, slim, and gorgeously long, straight hair. That’s shadow I saw in the dead of night. She walked so graciously in the direction of my parents’ room. She... seemed friendly enough. I have to admit, I got cold every time I saw her, but she never did anything to harm me.

I remember the last day she appeared. It was the day I finally summoned the courage to call out to her.

“Hey! I can see you. Who are you?” And she was gone.

I’m curious still. I think, being a tad more mature, I’d be able to handle a conversation with her. I’m positive that if she did stop and talk to me back then, I would’ve been scared to death. I’m older now, maybe not wiser, but I’m braver. I’ve faced things that made me stronger and these things shouldn’t scare me.

Then came the one under my bed. I’m going to assume she was a female, though I’m not sure she was human at all. I had horrible visions that the entity under my bed collects my fallen hair to create a head of hair of her own. You see, she was bald, I think, and I wasn’t. My hair falls out regularly (not noticeably, of course) and all those loose strands accumulate rather quickly. If someone... or something, wanted to collect my hair, it could’ve.

I remember the day I finally caught a glimpse of her. Unlike my previously mentioned hallucinations, she had a body. Was it a solid body? I don’t know. I didn’t want to touch her.

I was in bed and as I turned over to look at my alarm clock, I saw the back of a head instead. It was only for a short moment, but I saw it. Hair, my hair, and dried blood.

“The priest did bless my room, right?”
“Yes.”
“Did he bless under my bed?”
“You didn’t have a bed at the time.”
“Oh. Right.”

That back-of-a-head event was the only time I saw the actual being that resides under my bed.

There were other little things, too. I stuff a lot of stuff under my bed, you see. One day, I walked into my room to find a hand sticking out from under my bed. It wasn’t a human hand. Heaven’s no! It was a pile of geometry tools positioned in a hand-like formation. What. The. Actual. Heck?

And then there were the blood stains. I was getting my clothes from my closet or something, I don’t recall anymore. On the floor, a few drops of dried blood. Now enter Cecilia.

Cecilia was, and still is, my schoolmate. She and I used to mess with paranormal stuff and we both shared a passion for it. I remember our little summoning in the grassy area of my elementary/junior high school. We tried to call upon a ghost called Rosaline (a name we had to concentrate to get. Perhaps I'll tell you about it in a later entry?) who we saw in the old science room a couple of times.

Anyway, Cecilia was my go-to person when I had ghost trouble. See, I normally don’t see dead people. Cecilia, however, was able to (or at least, she claimed she could). She could give me a visual description of the ghosts she saw and I was sort of jealous. Haha. razz She sensed spirits in a way that I couldn’t.

So I invited her over. I mean, of course I would! There were BLOOD STAINS on my floor.

The day she came over, I showed her.

“Look,” I said. I looked at her to catch any facial expression she might show in reaction to the blood.
“Where?”
“Right there!”
“I don’t see it.”
“Oh.” And they were gone. The blood stains were gone, dear journal. A part of me broke that day.

Cecilia, if you’re reading this, you remember, don’t you? I showed you the “blood stains” but they weren’t there. We spent the rest of the day drawing on ourselves, I think. A monster clawing out from under our skin and cuts and bruises. That what we drew. What happy children we were, eh? 3nodding

And then there was a scratch. My cousin, Nicky, and I were playing in my room. We decided to build a fort but, being who I am, I didn’t want to clean up. He proposed we modify the space under my bed to a hangout place.

The bottom of my bed isn’t huge and spacious. It’s just, at the time I was brave enough to venture under, I had a petit enough body. And so did my little cousin, Nicky.

So we went under my bed. Each corner and edge was something. I remember the art corner and the candy wall and the supplies corner. It was really cool. We tried lighting the place up but I lacked sufficient light sources. Plus, it’s hard to operate laying down because that was the position you had to be in to move around under my bed.

“Hold on, I have to go get something.” I said.
“Alright.”
I rolled over and, “Ow!”
“What, what, what?”
“I think I’m bleeding.”

I went to the washroom and lifted my arm. A glistening red gash across the pit of my arm.

“Let’s stop with the bed fort?” my cousin said.
“Yeah..”

To this day, there’s still a scar under my arm. I have went under my bed before. I had to clean it eventually. I didn’t do so alone, though.

My mom has a friend with three kids. The two older ones are twins, both a year above me. They were with me when I was cleaning my room and clearing underneath my bed.
The head of hair, the blood stains, the scar that will forever haunt me... These are all aspects of the past. I found out that I only start seeing things (and hearing things) when I’m dehydrated. Oh, seeing and hearing wasn’t the only thing I experienced.

A cold finger.

I was in a room with white walls. No wait, I wasn’t in the room. I was watching from outside the room. There were two doctors hovered over a dead (probably?) body rested on a metal table. All of sudden, the grudge bursts through the wall and devours the body. Then I woke up.

Panting and sweating from just awakening from a nightmare, I was jumpy. I didn’t dare move, though, because I felt it. A cold (too cold to be alive) finger trace my spine along my back. Minutes after the cold was gone, I quickly turned around and you know what I saw?

Nothing.

I saw nothing, but I know something was there.

ANYWAY, I’m getting a little off topic. I wanted to wrap up this journal entry already!

I found out that I had ghost issues when I needed water. I THOUGHT my dehydration was the cause of my fear. I started drinking more water, even going so far as to have water bottles of water in my room. For a few months, maybe one or two years, I was free from these scares.

Just the other day, though, on January the 21st to be exact, I started seeing things again.

It’s different now, though. I’m seeing scary things outside now. I’m seeing them as I walk home, as I walk to school, as I explore the city. I’m seeing things again and it’s getting out of control.

There was someone staring at me from that church I passed by, I know it. I just KNOW it. I saw them. Him. A man. Upon a second glance, he was gone, only to reappear at the next window, just out of my view.

I’m seeing things in the faint reflection in a window. A WINDOW, not a mirror.

They’re faint.
I can’t seem to get a good look at them.
I do sense them.
They’re back.






Today’s lyrics are:
Tap on my window knock on my door
I want to make you feel beautiful
I know I tend to get so insecure
It doesn't matter anymore

Comment below if you know (or think you know) the title and artist of the song these lyrics belong to. A reward shall be granted~! ... if you get it right. Best of luck and yeah.

Thanks for reading! Good night if it’s dark out and have the sweetest of dreams~~ Check out my other entries if you’d like. I promise not all of them are this agonizingly long. Welp, I oughta sleep. Until next time~! yum_puddi