Where wild minds come to rest
Okay, I think I just finished my story. I'm at a good ending spot. This is an update to my previous blog that had the first half of the story. I'm tentatively calling it Painted Scars. Let me know if you think that title fits. Also, for those of you who haven't been here a long time, this is the blog of the main character from my story Miles. It ends with her killing Miles, as it's implied she does in that story. I thought that would be a good ending spot. Otherwise, it could just go on forever. Let me know what you think. :)
May 3rd, 3:54am
Good morning. It’s morning. It’s not a time I should be awake, but I am awake. I slept for only 1 hour and about 42 mins yesterday, give or take 10 mins. That is not enough time for me. That was yesterday……….not the yesterday as in before midnight, I mean the last time I was in bed. You know what I mean. I mean I haven’t slept in over a day. I’m not making sense, but I am making sense. I haven’t slept. I need to sleep. It’s a problem, and now that I’m awake, there’s one thing that’s bothering me horribly. There are too many damned mirrors in my apartment! I can’t stand all the mirrors. Do you ever realize how many mirrors there are everywhere? They’re everywhere. I can’t cover them up because my body just aches. I’m so tired, and I feel so sick. The drugs aren’t working, and I don’t feel well. I need to sleep, and now all I can see are mirrors. Think about this. The windows are mirrors. We cover them up, but there are always bits that peak through. If you have curtains, you can see mirrors on the sides and in between. If you have blinds, then there are seemingly infinite mirrors. Every slit has mirrors. They’re in between and all around. Looking around my desk, I see plenty of mirrors, which begs the question as to why I am at my desk. Shut up. I ask the questions, except when I am not. I am blogging. Let me. I have to get all this out since I have to be awake. If I don’t, I’ll just lie in bed going on and on about this to myself. I may as well inform you all of my random musings, and besides this all makes wonderful sense. If it weren’t so horribly frightening, it would be beautiful. There are mirrors on the door handles of my refrigerator. There are mirrors in the shiny books on my book shelves. The light from my night light catches them just right, and I can just faintly see myself as I sit here. I can’t see myself well, but you get the point. It’s like I’m in some fun house in a way. My body aches, and for some reason tonight I am sensitive to all the mirrors that are around me. I want to cry. I want to sleep. I will take another ¼ of a sleeping pill and try to sleep. I’m not encouraged, but one can hope. Goodnight again.
May 3rd 1:47pm
I am fine. I slept. I am fine. No, I’m not psychotic. Are you? Congratulations. I am fine. You are fine as long as you don’t keep suggesting idiotic things to me. Then I make no promises.
May 16th 3:02pm
I heard a song on the radio, and it sent me into a daydream. It had such an eerie quality to it…. It made me shiver and tremble just a little. It reminded me of Kevin. He’s my main character’s stalker in my daydream world. I have a whole world of characters that I’ve had since I was a kid. It’s hard to talk about, but I’m going to try. It’s so full and magical. It’s so much more real than the outside world to me. If I don’t get it out, then my outside world will just keep being as empty as it is. Reality is so dull.
I won’t say what my main character’s name is. Everyone calls her Baby anyway. They’ve been nurturing and in a way coddling her since she was little. She needed that. She met Kevin when she was 13. He was taller and very handsome. He had dark brown hair and dull green eyes. His skin was olive. He was completely mesmerized by her from day 1. She was so sad and emotional. She needed everyone to love her. His attention was so validating. I wish I could say it lasted. Soon, while working at the theater, she made some real friends. Laura had been mentoring her since she was 9, but she needed some real friends her own age. When she finally got some, Kevin started to become more and more possessive. He was wildly jealous and would grill her about everywhere she’d been whenever she’d been away for more than a week. She hated letting a friend go, especially when she was so desperate to have any in the first place, but after he beat her up, she had to. Laura made her stop seeing him. Then he just started stalking her. Now she’s 22 and married with a kid of her own. She lives in France with her family, but every time she comes back, he finds her. He follows her in his car and holds up a knife and kisses it. She can see it in her rear view mirror. She has a restraining order, of course, but that only does so much. He’s tried to kidnap her a few times, and he did cut the side of her neck once awhile back. It’s been years, though. All he does is show up and make sure she sees him with a knife. He always shows up.
Anyway, that should catch you up enough. You get the idea. Baby’s living in France, and Kevin has an apartment somewhere in the town they grew up in. He has a needy mother who’s sort of fallen apart since things started getting weird with him. He has an older sister named Kirsten. His mother outwardly blames Baby for all his behavior though on the inside she knows the truth. His father believes Baby and feels terrible. He knows what’s going on. Today, I kept replaying a fight Kevin was having with his mother. She found a few pocket knives in his jacket pockets and got really scared. If only she knew. He’s killing women and transforming their bodies to look like Baby in his spare time. If she knew, it would kill her. I don’t have the stomach to imagine the pain she would feel, so she’ll have to live in fear for now. In this case, living in fear is really better than the truth. Someday, this whole situation will have to blow up. Someday, it’ll all come to a big, bloody end. I shudder to think.
I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle it. I mean I know I will, but it’s just crazy how my mind can live like this. I’ve been living like this all my life. I don’t even know how to describe it. Baby isn’t just a character I’ve made up. She’s me. She’s my only identity. I sit here in my room, all day, barely getting out in the real world, and every minute I imagine her living. It’s like she’s the real person, and I’m the figment of her imagination. I go about my day, daydreaming of her and what she’s doing. I can’t pay attention to what I’m doing and have to write notes all the time to remind myself of what I have to do, how to do it, and what not to do that I did last time. I walk around in a complete daze. It’s my life. This is Maladaptive Daydreaming. It’s life completely on the inside with no way to get out.
Music isn’t normally a trigger for me, but today it was. I kept replaying the scenario with Kevin at his mother’s house for coffee. He was getting coffee in the kitchen when she, for some stupid reason, went through his pockets and found the knives. I don’t think she noticed the tiny spot of blood on one of them. It could’ve been covered in blood, and she wouldn’t have noticed. She brought the knives to his attention and cried about how she was scared about how she’s losing him. That’s all she can bother to say to him. He didn’t care and just wanted her to shut up and tell him where the sugar was. This conversation probably happened about 6 times in my mind as I found that song and replayed it.
May 29th 6:40pm
Some of you have written and asked me a few questions. Here goes.
Maladaptive Daydreaming is an addiction to daydreaming. Everyone daydreams. This is not normal daydreaming, and it is definitely not depression. People with Maladaptive Daydreaming don’t often start out depressed. They get depressed after they realize how much they’ve been daydreaming and not interacting with the “real” world. Often people with Maladaptive Daydreaming will have an idealized version of themselves as a central character. Often they will go on daydreaming binges that can last for hours up to weeks. It can get really severe. Most thought it was harmless and a wonderful escape at first. When you wake up, and you’re 30, and you can’t tolerate the real world, it doesn’t seem so harmless. People with Maladaptive Daydreaming are often very smart and wildly creative. They get addicted to their own creativity. Do not look down upon them as sick or diseased, or you will face my wrath. I will not accept being treated like a sick person.
Also, Kevin has killed about 15 people to date. Yes, it’s serious. No, I’m not psychotic. This all sort of just happened. Baby was making new friends, and I didn’t know what to do with the Kevin character. I was young at the time and couldn’t just pretend he didn’t exist, so he sort of went crazy. That just escalated until he became a serial killer years later. I know it sounds weird, but it just sort of happened. Kevin’s parents are Carolyn and Ed. I don’t know why you care, but it’s fine. That’s not a secret.
June 2nd 11:40am
Good morning! Today, I woke up at 7am and replayed a scenario with Baby and her husband for about 2h. They were having a great conversation, and I just wanted to have it over and over again. It was too intoxicating.
June 5th 7:10pm
Why do people make certain sounds? WHY? I tried to eat lunch in the mall today, and some lady was eating like she was eating from an effing trough. I t was so disgusting. Why are people not ashamed of such abhorrent behavior? Why do they sit there and smack and smack and smack like that? Do they really not hear it? Why is this socially acceptable? I was trying to sit there in peace and eat my lunch, but all I wanted to do was cover my ears and scream. I have to press on my ears every time I hear such a horrific sound. She kept looking at me like I was crazy. I’M crazy? She’s sitting there like a pig, sloughing food into her mouth and smacking, and I’m the crazy one? Do not look at us like we’re mad, people. I may be sensitive, but that doesn’t make your behavior any more becoming!
June 8th 11:05am
This morning in my daydream world, Baby and her husband spoke at length about a movie they’re thinking of writing together. They’re both really inspired. Baby went out in the sun and fainted. She kept breathing heavily all afternoon after they revived her. She’s been having this periodically for years. I wonder if she has some rare disease. I think I might kill off David. He’s her best friend in the world, but he’s afraid to fly, so he’ll never go visit them in France. It’s going to be hard to maintain that character.
June 12th 4:02pm
Why is it always so sunny? Why do we have to have spring and summer? It’s 72 degrees outside, so warm and stifling. My hair is like a thick blanket. It suffocates me. The sun is so bright. It feels like I’m under a magnifying glass. I can’t handle the sensation on my skin. It feels so uncomfortable. I need a nice, gray day, so I can breathe. I need to be able to walk around and feel okay.
June 20th 4:13am
I’ve been in bed since 11:16, and I still can’t sleep. I hate these nights. My body aches. My eyes feel strange. I hardly slept last night either. I feel so weird all over. I keep seeing things twitch just outside my line of vision. I keep thinking someone’s there. I whip my head around, but no one’s there. I know no one’s there. I have no reason to think anyone is there, but how can I see a twitch and not investigate? I don’t think my eyes are twitching. I don’t know what’s going on. I just hurt. I just want to sleep. I can’t even daydream. I can’t even cry. All I do in bed is shake and convulse. I toss back and forth, and my body just hurts. I’ve tried sleeping with the night light on and off. I tried switching directions in bed, but it’s no use. I just feel so strange now. It’s too late for me to get to sleep. I’m going to feel like this all day. Once the sun comes up, it’s all over. I can never sleep after daybreak.
June 25th 5:07pm
It’s another long summer day, and I’m so tired of hiding in doors, waiting for the sun to go down. I hate the summer. I start dreading in starting in February. I can’t stand feeling sun light on my skin. It’s one of my many sensitivities which are just unbearable. What can a person do? My hair is so thick that it feels like I’m suffocating the instant I get outside. I can’t stand the feel of wind either. I’m always turning my head to catch the wind on my face. Just when I find the right way to turn, it shifts and blows my hair across my face. I can’t handle that feeling. I wish the wind wouldn’t shift so much, but even if that were the case, it wouldn’t be any use unless wherever I needed to go happened to be against the wind. I would arrange that if I could. I try to wait to go outside until the sun goes down sufficiently. Sunset is the worst time. The sun that was hard overhead shines directly in your eyes. I can’t handle it. I won’t walk in the sun if I can help it. I miss the winter. I miss being able to walk around in the cool air. I only go out when I have to, to buy groceries. I don’t like hiding indoors so much. I feel so trapped, just waiting in my room in this old house. I may have to start shopping online.
June 29th 3:25pm
Sleep………….lack of sleep…………..has kept me indoors. I am indoors today. I will stay indoors for the third day in a row. I don’t like staying indoors that long. I’ve slept a few hours over the past few days. It’s kept me so sick. My body has been aching and shaking. My eyes feel strange, and my head aches. I feel like my mind is not where it should be. I can’t explain it. It’s not the daydreaming. With the daydreaming, I’m aware of the two different realities, even if the outer one is less real to me personally. With the lack of sleep…….reality becomes fuzzy. I can’t even daydream. I feel too sick. I’m going to stop taking the drugs. They’re not working.
July 4th 11:48pm
Why is this country so in love with horribly loud, sharp noises? I forgot what day it was and ventured out to get some iced coffee. BAD idea. People are everywhere, rudely cutting you off as you pass and taking up the whole sidewalk as they walk down the street. I can’t stand people. I loathe them. They’re so loud and chatty. The girls squeak at the top of their lungs while they walk around wearing next to nothing. I just wanted my coffee. I don’t want loud bangs and sharp clicks. I don’t want squeaks and honks and revving of engines. Why do people find themselves so impressive when they show off like that? It’s not impressive. It doesn’t take a lot of skill to rev an engine. One would think the invention of the cell phone would make it no longer necessary to scream at a person across a square. Does this not seem like a waste of energy? Plus, it’s sunny still. It’s warm. It was 82 degrees today. My skin is sticky all over. I’ve taken 3 showers today and will probably take another. I can’t handle this. Make the noises stop. This doesn’t count all the festive booming of loud, and I imagine dangerous, fireworks. Why doesn’t someone just make a nice, quiet, digital display? What’s the good of all this technology if no one uses it?
July 5th 8:42am
There’s no treatment, because I’m not sick! Stop asking me about my “disorder”. I don’t have a disorder. I’m sensitive. That doesn’t make me wrong. You’re all wrong. Ignorance is the sickness. You’re all incurable.
July 10th 6:28pm
This house is so dark and dreary. There are windows downstairs, but they don’t let in much light. I keep the drapes closed because I don’t like people being able to watch me from the street. I don’t go downstairs much. The kitchen floor is old and always feels dirty to me. The maid came today and cleaned out all the dust. She can’t get all the bugs though. I imagine there are bugs everywhere, under the floor, everywhere I walk. Sometimes I hop around to minimize contact. The room with the most light is my own bedroom. I only go downstairs to eat a snack or check the locks a few times. There are 5 bolts, each of which must be checked every time I get up or it occurs to me. I don’t know that I actually believe that they’re unlocked, but I have to check. What if the one time I didn’t check, there was 1 unlocked? I can’t risk it, and it takes much less time to check it than to try and push out that persistent thought. Today for dinner I had crackers and a small bowl of olives, not together of course. The delivery man came with my sparkling water. I’m so glad I don’t have to go to the store anymore. I’m glad I can live on my own, in my little cave. I’m getting used to being confined in here. It’s much better than being outside with all the irritants. I really can’t handle people. Plus, I’m often so sick that I’m never sure exactly how I’m acting. I’m never sure if I feel quite normal or not. I probably don’t. My mind………….it’s hard to say if it’s feeling right or not. Funny, you’d think that having an addiction to daydreaming would blur my reality, but it doesn’t in the least. I wish I felt well enough to daydream more. When I feel sick, all I can do is lie around or pace the floors and feel sick.
August 1st 9:45pm
David died today. I’ve had this dreadful feeling that something bad was going to happen to him. I guess it’s because of the distance. Since Baby’s been living in France, and he’s afraid to fly, it was only a matter of time until they grew apart. He’s her best friend, though, and I can’t bear for them to grow apart. She found his sister for God’s sake! She found his sister who had been kidnapped and reunited his whole family. They can’t grow apart! They can’t! No, something else had to happen. I just wasn’t including him in my daydreams as much. I wasn’t focusing on him like I would need to. He grew up, wandered seemingly aimlessly through life, and even got married. Everyone joked that they knew she was the one when he said she owned a book store. Maybe that’s why they married after only a few months, because I knew somehow my inspiration was dwindling. I was losing my love for poor David. Poor, saintly David who rescued Baby from Kevin so many times. Whenever Kevin would show up with a knife, so would David with only his bare hands. He would rescue her. He was always there. Today, after months of my dwindling interest, he got into a plane crash. He, Baby, and Frederick were on a weekend trip to NY. It was wonderful. They saw a concert, took in a few Broadway shows, and also had time to just lounge around their hotel room talking. They talked and talked. They were there for 3 nights and were supposed to stay another, but Baby was missing her little baby and flew home a night early. It’s funny because they all had tickets for the flight that went down. Baby didn’t take it because she flew home early. Frederick and David stayed the other night. Then, on the way to the airport, Frederick spotted a shop he’d meant to buy something for his wife in. He had to get out of the cab. David was adamant that they not miss their flight. Frederick said to go on ahead, and he’d catch up with him later. Well, in the end, Frederick missed the flight, and David didn’t. He knew the plane was having mechanical trouble. He knew things weren’t looking good. He called his wife, but she wasn’t home. Naturally, the next person he called was Baby. She was on the phone with him when the plane went down. …..and that was it. David’s gone. Frederick called later and apologized for missing his flight. Then, they had to tell him. 3 people were supposed to be on that flight. Love got 2 of them off the plane. Love killed the 3rd. David had wanted to rush home to his wife. It’s funny the different paths that love can take us on. Love can save, or love can kill.
I’ve been replaying this scenario all day long, and I’m so exhausted. What an emotional daydream to have. I’ll probably replay this one hundreds of times, each time a little different. I’ll forget some details and add new ones. This scenario is going to hold me for years.
August 18th 11:43am
Didn’t sleep much last night. Body aching. Head hurts. Can’t stop daydreaming about Kevin, try as I might to focus on something more positive. When I feel weird, I daydream weird. I tried replaying some happier story lines, but they’re boring when I feel bad. I need to be able to feel what my characters feel, and I just can’t. Have been lying around all morning in pain, thinking of Kevin stalking a new woman who looks like Baby. He’s going to kill her once he gets her alone.
September 12th 4:50pm
Last night I kept hearing a knocking sound. I still hear it, now and then. I have no idea what it is. It sounds like someone faintly knocking on my walls. At first I thought it was a ghost, but I’ve never been sensitive to ghosts. I spent all night pacing the floors, upstairs and down, room to room, checking to see if anyone was there. I had some new security cameras installed. By now they’re everywhere. I also had the alarm system updated. I don’t think it’s anything. I’m sure it’s just something innocent, but one can never be too careful. My thighs and knees hurt from walking around all night. I’m glad the guy from the security company is gone. I need to rest.
September 30th 6:02pm
Moonlight, moonlight, where is my moonlight? Where is my cool breeze? Where is my figurative cat from that Alastair Reid poem? I have the words tattooed on my back that represent freedom and living, yet here I am in my cave. I’m trapped. People live out in the world, with all the danger. They live so carelessly, so freely. They risk sun damage and violent attack by walking around in the early evening. You never know when life is going to pop out at you and stab you. You never know when it’s all going to end. I could die in my cave. I could die on the street. I used to pray hard every time I would go out that nothing bad would ever happen to me. Walking around, everything irritating would happen. My hair would blow in front of my face, or there would be no wind, and I would only feel the horrible sunlight. There would be chewing and popping coming at me from every direction. Oh, the horrible sounds of being out. Where is my peace that the careless cats feel every day while living dangerously? Will I ever feel comfortable outside my cave again? Today, I am a dead dog. I don’t even like dogs.
May 25th 11:02pm
I can see you, new reader, sitting at your computer, leaning on your left hand while scrolling down over my past folks. Sometimes, I swear, I can feel you all, each and every one of you. I don’t know how or if I am aware, but it feels like I’m aware. It feels like deep in my cave I’m tuned in to the outside word in a strange and beautiful way. I can see you.
June 1st 9:00am
I just found out that a lot of my old blog posts got deleted somehow, and I don’t know how. I guess I shouldn’t care; it’s not like I’ve said anything particularly mind blowing. I feel sick, and then I feel better, and then I feel worse again. Still, it’s irritating to see a chunk of my life disappear like that. Where have I been? Have I been lost, or more found than usual? One will never know.
June 18th 12:01am
It feels like someone’s chasing me. I run around the rooms here at night, scared of who might be in each room. Sometimes I sit in my room and hide. Then I think it would be easier if only I knew. I hear so many noises. After being cooped up in this house for so long, constantly, constantly terrified, I wonder if it’s screwing with my brain. It feels so much safer in here, and yet I’m always exposed. I’ve got locks on all the doors and windows, but nothing is 100% safe. I’m always exposed. I run around the rooms at night, hollering to anyone who might be there. I know you’re there! I can hear you! Don’t think I won’t fight you if I have to! I will fight you to the death! Oh, Lord, I hope this doesn’t kill me. I lie awake each night just praying I’ll fall asleep and wake up the next morning.
June 25th 1:05pm
It has now been over 6 months since I’ve left this house, ever since I could feel spring coming. I can only enjoy spring from the indoors, from the safety of my room where I can open my window and breathe in the cool air. Outside, I can feel the sun on my skin. I can’t stand that feeling. Outside, there are too many noises. Spring and summer are unbearable. I’m too old to live with what I cannot bear. Why torture myself? What good does it bring me to walk around in a tortured state, cringing as noises and sun assault me from every direction? No, I want to live in peace. I want to live in comfort. I will live here. My only contact with the outer world is through the internet and the maid who comes periodically to deliver groceries and clean.
Last night, I fell asleep within 15 mins of 3:02am. That’s as far as I can pinpoint it. I woke up sometime after 5am. That’s the most I’ve slept in the past few days. I’ve slept for an hour or so here and there. Then, in the AM, I would lie down in a half sleep that’s not very refreshing. It’s starting to have an effect on my brain, I’m convinced. My body always aches still. That’s nothing new. Today, the walls started wiggling again. I keep seeing movement out of the corner of my eyes, but nothing’s there. Yesterday, I woke up, and I saw a naked woman standing beside my bed. I could only see her middle portion, facing away from me. It was very hazy, and I knew it wasn’t real. It didn’t even feel real. It didn’t feel like anyone was really there. It didn’t startle me. I just saw it, and then I lied down again, and it vanished. My mind is going, and I’m fighting, kicking and screaming. I won’t go down without a fight.
July 10th 10:15am
Today I woke up still in a dream. I was in the middle of a conversation and kept having it. It wasn’t a particularly enriching conversation, but I was enjoying it. I could still hear the person talking after I knew I had woken up, so I kept talking back for about half an hour. Then I woke up more and the conversation ended. I had only been asleep for a couple of hours. Today the ground seems very wobbly. I have to hold on to things as I walk around. It feels sort of like I’m walking around in one of those bouncy rooms for children. It’s very unstable. It’s almost better if I don’t try and look down because it’s very foggy. I can’t see it very well, and it looks like it’s fading away as I step.
July 22nd 4:08pm
This lack of sleep has been affecting my daydreams. I can never daydream about good things anymore. I have to feel what I daydream, or I can’t daydream it well. The ground is still unstable. I still see bits of movement outside my direct line of vision, but now it just seems as if the air is moving. Walking takes so much effort that I spend much of my day lying around. I try to have good daydreams, but it’s difficult when your mind is feeling so sluggish. Maybe it’s strange, but I need to have a strong grip on reality to daydream. My brain needs to feel active and strong, not sluggish. The story lines just get uncomfortable. My body writhes, and so do my characters’ lives. I want so much for Baby to succeed. Things are going well with her husband, but every time she comes home to visit……… I think Kevin shows up mostly when my body is aching. He’s the only true villain in my story lines. He’s there whenever I’m in pain. She comes home, and he tries to kidnap her. It’s getting worse. With David gone, she has less protection. She’s having psychic visions now, and she can see bad things coming. She can see that one day there will be a horrible, bloody stand-off. She tries to push the images out, but she gets them nonetheless. …blurry images of him holding an object over her with the horrible dreaded feeling that one of them will have to die that day. If I don’t get well, it may come sooner than later.
July 30th 11:00am
I got up in the middle of the night and drew some pictures of where Kevin lived. I posted them earlier. Did you all see them? I just saw his house so vividly. I saw his face. He’s so familiar to me. It’s like he’s following me. Whenever I feel sick, I can’t escape him. He’s my sickness, and he’s taking over. I want to be rid of him. Maybe if I can kill him it’ll end. I daydream about him all day when I’m too tired to get up and do anything else. My rooms are so dark. There’s only one window in my bedroom, and there’s a tree in front of it. It blocks the light. I’m entombed in my room, and I’m entombed in my daydreams. I’m starting to have nightmares about Kevin. All my nightmares seem to be about murder. Sometimes he’s chasing me. Sometimes I’m the one chasing someone else. Sometimes it feels like some morbid murderous game. I’ll kill you, and then on your turn you get to kill me. I keep waking up and am scared to go back to sleep. I lie awake, my body aching from tossing and turning, fighting to stay awake but knowing I must sleep. It’s a battle. I don’t know which is worse, not sleeping or the horrible nightmares. I end up sleeping in parts, but I never really get any rest. Then I wake up for the day and feel sick, and he’s there. He’s always there. This picture is haunting. I don’t even know how to draw.
August 10th 9:42am
It’s done. The great battle that has been needing to happen for months has happened. Kevin is dead, and Baby has survived. She’s in the hospital, and after a grueling day and night, it looks like she’s going to make it. I need some rest.
August 10th 4:45pm
I’ve been resting all day, silently, resting with Baby while she lies in her hospital bed. She’s very sore. It’s been such a rough day. She’s so exhausted. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to fully describe this horrific, emotional experience. It felt so real, though I imagined it. I know it’s not real, but if reality is perspective then perhaps in some way it is real. If we’re all mind, and part of my mind is Kevin and Baby, then they’re as real as I am in a way. If reality is only who has a body, then that would mean that anyone who’s dead and who’s body has decomposed suddenly no longer has ever existed. They’re as real as Baby and Kevin, who share my mind but are as real as anyone else. One of them died. Is part of my mind dead? Did the bad part die with Kevin? I’ve unwillingly put so much of myself into these fictional characters. How do I know that my life won’t be different? Maybe I’ll wake up, having truly slept for the first time in decades and everything will be better. I killed him. Maybe I exorcised him. What if it’s too late? We’ve grown up with him for so long, Baby and I, that maybe his memory will always be part of our soul. It’s not like we can ever forget him. She bears physical scars and the knowledge that she will always be a killer, even if it was in self-defense. Who knows what scars I may bear?
What happened with Baby and Kevin was really long and grueling. I’m going to sum it up very fast. I don’t have the strength to tell you every detail.
In a nutshell:
She’s been home visiting Laura with her husband and child. She’s been very psychic lately. She woke up one morning with horrific images flooding her mind. She could see Kevin, coming after her. She knew he had knives and many guns. She knew he was going to try and kill his mother, sister, and her. She knew that he was very determined and would get frustrated and just shoot anyone who got in his way. She called his mother repeatedly, begging her to run. She called everyone she knew who had a relationship with Kevin’s mother to help convince her to run, but it didn’t work. The woman is too connected to her son. She’s in denial. She didn’t want to believe that all these things that have been happening are true. She hasn’t wanted to believe any of it. She didn’t listen. He got to her and killed her. Baby tried calling the police, but they didn’t believe her. She got on her motorcycle and ran as far as she could. He followed her in his car, loaded with weapons. She went to an old bar that hadn’t open yet and screamed for the only man inside to leave because a killer was on the way. He ran with the phone. Kevin arrived and took her phone. He kept her there for hours, taunting her. He’d stab her and then sit and talk with her for awhile and then stab her again. They did this for quite some time. Eventually he had enough and stabbed her repeatedly. He had a small gun in his pocket which he must’ve forgotten about. As he was bent over stabbing her, the motion moved it to the top of his pocket. Baby, weak and bleeding to death, managed to reach up and grab it. She shot him. He’s dead. I guess the owner of the bar managed to convince 911 that this was real because they sent an ambulance and the police. Baby barely survived. She managed to kill the man who’s been trying to kill her for years. She went to the hospital, and it was touch-and-go for awhile, but she survived. She’ll be okay, physically. Hopefully now we can both get some rest.
August 11th 2:25pm
I’d forgotten that I painted yesterday. I don’t paint very often, but there’s red paint all over the clothes I was wearing yesterday. My stomach is sore. It feels like there are scratches all over it. Maybe I was trying to paint Baby’s stab wounds on myself and somehow cut myself with the brush. There’s red paint on my shoes and hands. There’s red paint on the door handles. I don’t know what I was doing. My stomach hurts so much. I should change the bandages. The paint is starting to seep through them.
August 20th 7:45am
I woke up and found the window broken. I had a repairman come and fix it, but it was very frightening. I don’t know what happened. Things were moved around my room. They’re not in the same spot. My mind is confused from the lack of sleep, but I’m sure they’re in different spots. I keep seeing red paint everywhere. It’s like it’s following me and trying to take over. There was red paint on the broken window pane and red paint drops in trails around my room. I cleaned it all up before he came, but he must’ve sensed something because he was looking at me strangely. There are paint stains on my floor, still, and I can’t get them off. I scrubbed and scrubbed today. This is worse than the mirrors. I don’t like red paint. My arms and abdomen are sore.
January 15th 9:10pm
I’ve started blogging on my walls for the past few months. It’s been very interesting. I brought a ladder upstairs and started painting the words with a fine brush in the far upper corner of my back wall in my room. I haven’t dreamed about Baby and Kevin for months. It’s been wonderful. I have to be careful on the ladder because the insomnia makes me woozy. I’m starting to get used to it, though. Instead of daydreaming, I just write, very carefully, with the paint brush. I’m used to the red paint now. It’s starting to be inspiring. I find it on my blankets and in drops around the room. What’s really handy is it seems to be coming out of various parts of my body. I wrote an entire blog yesterday from some red paint that was oozing from my left shoulder. It’s magnificent. Anyway, that’s where I’ve been. It takes much longer, so I don’t feel like blogging on the computer as much.
June 25th 11:00pm
Baby, oh Baby, I feel so guilty for leaving you. I meant to kill Kevin, but I didn’t mean to abandon you. Have you seen my letters? I wrote them on the walls for you. The whole right side of the back wall is dedicated completely to you. I know you’re not real. You’re just a part of me, but I’ve had you so long that you feel real to me. I feel like I’ve let a part of myself fade away, and I don’t know how to deal with that. It feels like I’ve abandoned someone who’s loved me and taken care of me since I was a child. I couldn’t have grown without you. You were my me when I didn’t have a me. I was too scared to live in the real world, so I lived through you in your world. You allowed me to live when otherwise I wouldn’t. You allowed me to converse and have thoughts when there was no one to converse with in my world. I made your world beautiful for you, and you made this world tolerable for me. I’m sorry I let Kevin hurt you so much. I gave you friends to take care of you. They helped you, but in the end I left it to you to fight him off on your own. The good news is you did it. You survived a horrible tragedy only to have all your energy taken from you. I was exhausted from it all and didn’t have the strength to build up your life again. I’ve just let you fade. I think of you often, but it’s in memory. I haven’t had the strength to give you new life again. Maybe someday I will. Please don’t be mad at me. Please try not to feel abandoned. Somewhere in the universe, you’ll always be, somewhere in a universe of thought. Reality is only thought. So little of it is tied to the real world. The real world is an illusion. If reality is a figment of the mind, then you are real, and I can miss you. I can love you always.
September 20th 12:30am
Baby is back! I thought I’d let her go, but she called to me, and I listened. I’ve felt you beckoning to me, Baby. I’ve felt you needing to grow and strengthen. You’ve spoken to me of your pain and your needing for me to feel it with you, so you can get it out. Baby needs to feel, but because she’s part of my imagination, I have to feel with her. I have to daydream and have her feel what she needs to feel. She has emotions, and they’re so real. She’s grown from the Kevin experience. She’s been the victim her whole life, and now she’s haunted by him. He hasn’t left her in a way. After you’ve been stalked, kidnapped multiples times by, and then killed a man, you can’t just forget him and move on. She’s acknowledging that he’s part of her. She knows that she led him to his demise in a way, though he started it, and he’s the psychopath. He’s a psychopath, but he made her into a killer. Like it or not, she’ll always be someone who’s killed. She can’t undo that. She had to, to save herself. She lost part of her soul that day, so she’ll never fully be free, but she’s getting stronger. She’s ready to rebuild her life, and I’m ready to help her.
December 5th 1:15am
We are not crazy, and we are not figments of each other’s imaginations. We are real as long as we are part of thought. I am my own thoughts, and you are your own thoughts. Baby is part of my thoughts. She’s real because a thought has created her. If you believe in God, or even if you don’t, but I’m trying to be generous………….anyway we’re all figments of God’s thoughts, but does that make us not real? If we are real, then in some way, Baby is real. I am her Creator. We are all creators because we are creators of thoughts, and thoughts are reality. Keep thinking thoughts. Keep letting thoughts grow and create.
March 18th 2:42pm
Why have I not written about the horrors of sunlight? I haven’t been in the sun in ages. I don’t feel a need to torture myself like that anymore. It’s rather peaceful just to live in a world of one’s own thoughts. I still don’t sleep, but I don’t care anymore. I let my reality blend. It’s ok. We’re all living in our own blended realities. You all just blend your realities with other people to make a consensus about where you’re at and what life is. I blend mine with my own. I blend mine with night dreams and day dreams. I blend external stimuli, which you call reality, and internal stimuli which are in a way more real than anything. It’s okay. I’m at peace with it.
May 8th 7:05pm
My daydreams have become very vast and fascinating. Baby has had another baby and published her first book. It’s doing very well. She’s becoming wonderfully successful. She wrote her first drafts all over my walls with the paint she finds on my body. Oh how much she wrote, trying to get it right. I’m so proud of the work she’s done. Her friends’ lives have grown, too. My characters have expanded from a few core characters to hundreds. I watch them grow in real time. They grow and meet new people. Naturally I have to stop and think of each new character’s history. It takes time, but I have time. They’re all so wonderfully unique. They have their own dramas, which I take time to think through. Sometimes it gets exhausting, but such is life. Life is full of rich experiences. Mine is full of many real experiences. I’m living many lives at once, and I love it. I don’t need all the horrible things that come in the outer world. I’ve got a much more enriching world without all the irritations.
July 22nd 4:45pm
Oh, the dramas. Why do people get caught up in such dramas? I try to be above them, but there’s only so much I can do. Things will flow as they must. Characters will develop as they must. They will grow, they will be human, they will be wrong, and they most certainly will be petty and dramatic. It’s how things go. I am their creator, but they live and grow on their own in a way. I don’t think my mind knows how to live in such a controlling manner. I can’t make things be unnatural. Let them be. Oh, it exhausts me to think of it, though. I’ve traded a few core characters including one horribly evil one for many who are all good. They’re irritating, but they’re good people. At least I don’t live in so much fear. I don’t fight the insomnia like I used to. I don’t force my body to sleep when it doesn’t want to. I don’t force it to conform with how the outside world thinks we should live. Life gets so much better when you give in to what’s natural. You can’t fight your mind. You’ll lose every time. The mind is what’s strong and real. The mind always wins. My mind will sleep when it will sleep and it will create as it will create. I just wish my characters would grow up a little faster.
August 1st 2:15pm
Well, this is unusual. Someone is coming over to see me, someone outside my usual group of servants and peons. Someone new is coming over. He wants to know about me and this condition. It’s an honor and a privilege, I guess, though I always mistrust people a little. He promises not to eat or smack when he talks. People usually fail at controlling that, but at least he’ll be aware that I’m sensitive to it. Remind me to wear long sleeves to cover the paint on my arms. It can be alarming to look at.
August 8th 11:05pm
I can’t take this anymore. My characters are becoming too many, and their dramas are driving me crazy. I’m feeling weird. Baby’s feeling weird. We’re all feeling weird, and it’s beginning to be suffocating. I thought it would be better without an evil character around. It was for a long time. It wasn’t as interesting, but it wasn’t as scary. I wasn’t scared and sick all the time. With all their love and happiness, they just kept expanding. They’d go out, meet new people, fall in love, marry, have babies, and then their in-laws would have extended families and so on and so on. They’d move around. Pretty soon I had characters all around the world in different countries. I don’t speak any other languages, so I’d have to invent countries and fictitious languages, which I’d have to remember. So many customs to remember. I can’t take this anymore. Something has to happen. Someone has to die or something. I wish I could just forget characters, but once they’re born, they’re born for good. No one ever leaves. No one ever gets divorced. People stay together, and their lives keep expanding forever. I’ve grown attached to many of them, but I can’t handle them all. I don’t know what to do. Someone has to die or something. I don’t want to be a murderer again. I don’t like it, but if I can’t find a way out, then that’s what has to happen. I have to become a vicious killer who kills to control the population.
August 10th 7:30pm
The man was crazy, and he died. He came over and seemed almost respectful. Then he called me “lucid”. The pompous ass thought himself capable of judging my state of mind, not just then, but in general. Who was he to say that I’m not normally lucid and for the moment, upon meeting me for a split second, that I was? Why do people think so highly of themselves and condescend to me so? Who exactly did he think he was? The man had no credentials to my knowledge. He just liked to read and to write. He thought it would be fun to write about me. I was being generous by letting him. I let it pass, and we spoke for a good while. I explained to him about Maladaptive Daydreaming, but he didn’t understand. Then it just got strange. It made me so uncomfortable. I blog about what’s real and what’s not. Baby and Kevin are real to me because I’ve been thinking of them and creating their lives for so long. He thought they were actually real people, and the more I tried to explain it to him, the more he kept insisting they were real. He told me they really existed and that Kevin had really died. He really died in my mind, but he didn’t live and breathe in the physical world. Oh, it was so bizarre. He tried to tell me I knew things and that I was daydreaming about real people. He seemed to think I was Baby and that I had really been stabbed and escaped. How would I survive something like that without medical treatment? He kept insisting. He didn’t understand. I got upset. How can a man speak to me with so little understanding? I can’t let that happen. It’s not acceptable. People can’t talk to me like they know my brain better than I do. They can’t talk to me like they know reality better than I do. He certainly didn’t know my characters better than I do.
He must’ve known he was wrong because he got up to leave. Then I went over to the mirror. I removed the bandages on my abdomen and caressed the spots where the red paint had scarred me. It’s amazing how red paint can just appear like that and scar you in places. They were bright slashes, so long and smooth. They’re like Kevin. They never go away. It was almost meditative for a moment, caressing the scars of my daydreams. I decided which one of my characters was going to die. It felt so much better. It was his time. I calmed down and beckoned the young man back. It’s always hard killing off a character, but sometimes it just happens naturally. He decided he was going to try and kill Baby. He attacked her. They fought against the window. Then somehow the window broke. It was a big window, and they toppled over, out from the second story of the house, onto the ground. The young man hit his head against a rock and died. She survived, miraculously. They took her away in the ambulance, but she was ok. She just twisted her ankle. Poor, tragic heroine. I will always love her. I will always defend her.