Thursday, 2016-02-18

I don’t know what to do. I just looked back over my journal entries for the last two weeks. It seems like things are getting more and more out of hand. I don’t know if I’m going crazy or if there is some higher power at work, something far, far beyond my understanding. I missed my follow up appointment at the psychiatrist yesterday. It didn’t even cross my mind until now, I was so absorbed in dreams and cryptic messages written „in the color of blood“, but clearly just with a red pen.

Nothing about this makes any sense. Why would I write in symbols I can’t read, but which translate perfectly into Latin letters, and form a message in English, plus some weird language I can’t understand? If it even is some language and not just random scribbling. If it’s a code, why make it so easily crackable, even bolding the non-English part to make it easier to distinguish? There is nothing in there that makes it harder for an outside observer to crack than for me. If it’s not a code, why not just write in plain English?

And then, the dream itself, what does it even mean? If it’s supposed to tell me something, why would it not make sense to me? But if it’s just nonsense, why does it keep repeating? It’s like someone trying to speak to someone else in a language the other person doesn’t understand, and just trying again and again, louder and louder, rather than trying to find some common ground of communication. And I don’t even know who’s doing the screaming, if it’s some weird alien presence, or some weird part of my psyche.

Looking back, I’ve been obsessed with solving a riddle which I don’t even know for sure to be one. Maybe there is no message, nothing to understand, maybe it’s just my brain trying to make sense of what started as a harmless, nonsensical nightmare, and by obsessing over it, became a fixture. And maybe I shouldn’t try to make hypothesis about what my brain is doing when I know next to nothing about psychology. Which brings me back to my missed appointment. I should really show someone this journal.

I’m getting really tired again. I’m afraid to go to sleep, who know if I’ll be this clear when I wake up again? I’m also running out of food. I haven’t left the house for a week now. It’s ten already. If I go to bed now, even if I set an alarm, I won’t wake up before four, for sure. And then it might be to late, regardless of the time. I have to go now.

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