March 1st, 2013

Hey, Troy, what’s up with you, how’s your life been? You suck at keeping up a journal whether it’s online or written by the way. Yes, yes I do. Ah well, much has happened so let’s not waste time bickering. Seems like the past few days have been filled with musical adventures, so it’s been an exciting time. I’m involved in two different bands now, one an indie rock band called “Adara” which I play keyboard in and one unnamed band with a girl named Krystal which I play like whatever I want in. And it’s been good, Adara and I had our first practice last Wednesday and everyone in the band is pretty cool, it’s gonna be good for me to get out more and hang out with fun people so I can get my spunk back that I lost oh so long ago. As for this band with Krystal, I think we still have a chance of going somewhere with music, but more than that I’m glad to be making a new friend! She’s 8 years older than me but acts like a kid still, so it’s all good.
I’ve also still been doing a lot of that silly thinking of mine, mostly about death and what comes afterwards… if anything. It’s depressing to think that there’s not a God. I honestly don’t know how atheists can get by day to day knowing that one day they’ll literally be nothing. I think that’s a scary thought. I don’t truly believe it though, surely the subconscious part of us must live on even after our consciousness is gone, it just won’t be quite the same… no icecream, no sex, no smelling the roses… still, there must be something, right?
What else? Well, I never got sick. EVERYONE IS GETTING SICK. God, it’s annoying. It’s like what’s wrong with you people? I am literally the only person I know from around here who hasn’t picked up the flu at least a little bit it seems! I shouldn’t blame everyone else though, it’s not their fault they have weak immune systems… I’m just blessed I suppose, eh? Or maybe this flu thing is a conspiracy so no one can hang out with me this Saturday, ’cause apparently everyone is busy tomorrow… hmm… just like the moon landing. That was totally fake, I don’t care what you say. Absolute garbage.


Me Part 2: Secrets

It wasn’t long after Fred’s initial appearance that I began to see him everywhere. It was a weird sort of relationship Fred and I had. Sometimes he could be perfectly charming, he would tell me things I needed to know or, ironically, give me ways to help me deal with him when he was in a bad mood (which was most of the time). His bad moods typically came at nighttime, when he would stow away in my closet and scream all night, and if I tried to leave or sleep somewhere else he would stand at the foot of my sleeping area and stare at me until I moved. It was frightening. It really was. I didn’t know what to do about him.
During the day he would make it impossible to focus. Sometimes it would just be repetition of words or counting in my head, and sometimes it would be chasing me across the high school campus, making me look like a retard to all of the people around me who couldn’t perceive him. And I never sought out help for this. I think it’s because, and I still believe this, Fred truly was real. I don’t know what he was, maybe a physical manifestation of that dark side that all humans posses, maybe a demon that I was unlucky enough to be possessed by, maybe something else, but he was real, and I can guarantee that. If Christians can have faith in an unperceivable God who makes supposedly perceivable changes in their lives, then surely I can have faith in a completely perceivable demon who made perceivable changes in my life.
In any case, I kept him a secret. I visited a psychiatrist at one point in 2009 at my mother’s request, because she believed I was suffering some kind of mental trauma. The doctor’s concluded there was nothing wrong with me except that I had Bipolar Disorder Type I (a disorder I still struggle with today). Of course I never told them about Fred. But regardless, if I had schizophrenia or something like that, wouldn’t they have found that in the MRI’s or the various other scans I can’t remember the names of? Another reason I have to insist that Fred truly was there.
I stopped writing in my journal at this point. The final pages are filled with chicken scratch and “Shut Up” written in large all over them. The only things I remember from that period of my life are the fear and the paranoia that followed me everyday. That’s until I met her, of course…