I know I have wild mood swings... and I can either be irritatingly joyful, depressed to a worrisome degree, or in the middle of a blinding rage. I try to be rational and calm for the most part... try to find an explanation for things, after all, it's how I try to calm myself down when I find myself in a scary mood.
How is this helping you in any way? How is screaming all these profanities at an unsuspecting lady driving down the street helping in any way?
Ok, and locking yourself in your room in complete darkness is going to uplift your spirits... how...?
I know this is fun... but take it down a notch... you're getting a little too loud and obnoxious, homie.
For the last month, I've been dealing with this inexplicable sense of fear-- not dread, but fear.
The scariest moment was a couple of weeks ago, when I woke up in the middle of the night, scared out of my mind, with my heart pounding in my chest... and just KNOWING something was standing in the corner of my room, to my left... I just KNEW something or someone was there-- a masculine energy-- staring at me. It was a dark figure, and I saw it when I opened my eyes and looked over-- heart pounded so hard, I swore I was going to suffer a heart attack-- then I closed my eyes and told myself I'd keep my eyes closed and act as if I was asleep.
It can't do anything to me if it thinks I'm asleep... act asleep... breathe slowly... don't move... DON'T open your eyes.
It was agonizing... so fucking agonizing.
I sat paralyzed in my bed, trying to stay calm as I felt my left leg grow BURNING hot for a good five seconds, then immediately ice-cold. Then again to the burning, but this time up to my stomach... where I could have sworn my bed sheet was catching fire (no, I was not thinking of the Hunger Games), and again the scary cold on the leg. It was so goddamn terrifying and befuddling.
WHAT IN THE FUCK IS GOING ON?! DON'T open your eyes, AnoMALIE!
After what felt like an eternity, I finally opened my eyes and reached for my phone, turning on the flashlight function.
The time was 3:36 AM. I wanted to piss my pants... I HATE waking up at three in the morning... because I do believe that's a bad hour... fuck 3 AM.
This sort of shit happens to my sister all the time-- she's the one who sees "dead people." She's the one who suffers those paralyzing moments where dead family members come up to her and speak to her (in her latest episode, she saw Tyson, happily wagging his tail and licking her face, which removed all sense of fear in her... and that's when my paternal grandmother appeared. Sis was embarrassed to tell me about it because she thought I'd laugh at her because of a dog "speaking" to her, but it was totally the opposite. I'd fucking kill-- not literally-- to see Tyson one more time, my love). My "ability" is to sense when someone close to me is going to die... which I think is better than that petrifying shit I felt.
Anyway, after that scary shit, I kept getting perturbing dreams. I kept waking up and telling my mom "Someone's trying to talk to me... a dead person... or... do you know of someone who recently died or is dying? Because that homeboy or homegirl wants to talk to me. Someone has some unresolved issues or some shit."
Then last week, as I was driving to the gym, I tried changing the radio station as I backed out of the garage, and my car refused. I'd be able to turn the nobs, but when I'd press enter, either on the steering wheel or the MMI (multi media center... Audi is a classy bastard), I'd get nothing. Then, randomly, the station switched to a non-existent station, where I listened to white noise. I could not switch on or off or to the satellite radio, or CDs... my car was forcing me to listen to white noise... for the 20 minute commute.
Oh FUCK... FUCK FUCK! I just fucked up my car... it isn't even a year and a half old! My mom's going to fucking murder me!
I spent gym time freaked the fuck out over what I was going to tell Mom about my fucked up car.
When it was time to go home, I turned on my car, and it was back to normal. Instead of feeling relief, I felt another type of fear...
Uhm... is Mr. WillyBoy... haunted? What. The. Fuck? I think I preferred it when I thought it was a mechanical issue...
I came home and told Mom all about it.
Mom: Keep watching your scary shows, AnoMALIE... serves you right!
Me: Mom... someone's going to die.
Tuesday night, as I sat in my room, I was on my way to the bathroom when I heard--clearly-- someone call out my name. Clearly.
I didn't feel scared, since the name was called out very calmly... none of that haunting shit you hear in movies.
I thought it was Mom trying to ask me for a favor... even if the voice wasn't anything like hers (that woman screams like she's at the Superbowl, regardless of where her audience may be, despite what ever mood she may be in).
When I walked over to the living room and asked what she needed, she was surprised I was out there.
Mom: I didn't call you, Mija... it's almost midnight.
This morning, I woke up weepy... a heavy feeling on my chest... and I was just... randomly crying... crying hard... out of the blue.
At first, I thought maybe I was just regrouping from all this BoxingTrainer Drama bullshit of the last days... that I was upset with myself for blowing up the way I did.
Then in the middle of my gym routine I get the text: my maternal grandpa's brother-- the sweetest, gentlest one-- passed away.
And so... there I sat amongst the weights... crying like a pussy.
You know... I try to rationalize shit... to debunk all this supernatural shit... but I can't. So many strange little nothings occur to me... they all build up... and while I can't tell WHAT will happen, or when it'll happen... or TO WHOM it'll happen... it ends the same: I lose a loved one.
I don't know how the person will die, when he will die, or WHO will be the one dying... I just know the loss will hurt me.
I wish I could point to a particular person and say "Hey, you, love the fucking shit out of your grandpa right now... because he's going to die... he has been coming to me at night, scaring the shit out of me... and I think it's because he wants me to tell you to quit being a cunt and go say goodbye to him like a normal person. He misses you... now GO!" but I can't. Instead I sit in my room, paranoid as fuck, hoping these creepy things stop... or for them to just become clearer and tell me how I can help out or whatever the fuck needs to be done.
Godspeed, uncle. You were a sweet, caring man. Thank you for proving not only to me, but to the rest of the Hometowners that the M******* men are capable of deeply loving, and respecting women... giving your wife her rightfully deserved respect, and treating her with the endless love you promised her until the very end.
I will miss your stories... your romantic, adorable stories.
Thank you for being one of the only souls capable of, and CONCERNED with, bringing back my grandfather from the dark side to which he always fell victim.
How is this helping you in any way? How is screaming all these profanities at an unsuspecting lady driving down the street helping in any way?
Ok, and locking yourself in your room in complete darkness is going to uplift your spirits... how...?
I know this is fun... but take it down a notch... you're getting a little too loud and obnoxious, homie.
For the last month, I've been dealing with this inexplicable sense of fear-- not dread, but fear.
The scariest moment was a couple of weeks ago, when I woke up in the middle of the night, scared out of my mind, with my heart pounding in my chest... and just KNOWING something was standing in the corner of my room, to my left... I just KNEW something or someone was there-- a masculine energy-- staring at me. It was a dark figure, and I saw it when I opened my eyes and looked over-- heart pounded so hard, I swore I was going to suffer a heart attack-- then I closed my eyes and told myself I'd keep my eyes closed and act as if I was asleep.
It can't do anything to me if it thinks I'm asleep... act asleep... breathe slowly... don't move... DON'T open your eyes.
It was agonizing... so fucking agonizing.
I sat paralyzed in my bed, trying to stay calm as I felt my left leg grow BURNING hot for a good five seconds, then immediately ice-cold. Then again to the burning, but this time up to my stomach... where I could have sworn my bed sheet was catching fire (no, I was not thinking of the Hunger Games), and again the scary cold on the leg. It was so goddamn terrifying and befuddling.
WHAT IN THE FUCK IS GOING ON?! DON'T open your eyes, AnoMALIE!
After what felt like an eternity, I finally opened my eyes and reached for my phone, turning on the flashlight function.
The time was 3:36 AM. I wanted to piss my pants... I HATE waking up at three in the morning... because I do believe that's a bad hour... fuck 3 AM.
This sort of shit happens to my sister all the time-- she's the one who sees "dead people." She's the one who suffers those paralyzing moments where dead family members come up to her and speak to her (in her latest episode, she saw Tyson, happily wagging his tail and licking her face, which removed all sense of fear in her... and that's when my paternal grandmother appeared. Sis was embarrassed to tell me about it because she thought I'd laugh at her because of a dog "speaking" to her, but it was totally the opposite. I'd fucking kill-- not literally-- to see Tyson one more time, my love). My "ability" is to sense when someone close to me is going to die... which I think is better than that petrifying shit I felt.
Anyway, after that scary shit, I kept getting perturbing dreams. I kept waking up and telling my mom "Someone's trying to talk to me... a dead person... or... do you know of someone who recently died or is dying? Because that homeboy or homegirl wants to talk to me. Someone has some unresolved issues or some shit."
Then last week, as I was driving to the gym, I tried changing the radio station as I backed out of the garage, and my car refused. I'd be able to turn the nobs, but when I'd press enter, either on the steering wheel or the MMI (multi media center... Audi is a classy bastard), I'd get nothing. Then, randomly, the station switched to a non-existent station, where I listened to white noise. I could not switch on or off or to the satellite radio, or CDs... my car was forcing me to listen to white noise... for the 20 minute commute.
Oh FUCK... FUCK FUCK! I just fucked up my car... it isn't even a year and a half old! My mom's going to fucking murder me!
I spent gym time freaked the fuck out over what I was going to tell Mom about my fucked up car.
When it was time to go home, I turned on my car, and it was back to normal. Instead of feeling relief, I felt another type of fear...
Uhm... is Mr. WillyBoy... haunted? What. The. Fuck? I think I preferred it when I thought it was a mechanical issue...
I came home and told Mom all about it.
Mom: Keep watching your scary shows, AnoMALIE... serves you right!
Me: Mom... someone's going to die.
Tuesday night, as I sat in my room, I was on my way to the bathroom when I heard--clearly-- someone call out my name. Clearly.
I didn't feel scared, since the name was called out very calmly... none of that haunting shit you hear in movies.
I thought it was Mom trying to ask me for a favor... even if the voice wasn't anything like hers (that woman screams like she's at the Superbowl, regardless of where her audience may be, despite what ever mood she may be in).
When I walked over to the living room and asked what she needed, she was surprised I was out there.
Mom: I didn't call you, Mija... it's almost midnight.
This morning, I woke up weepy... a heavy feeling on my chest... and I was just... randomly crying... crying hard... out of the blue.
At first, I thought maybe I was just regrouping from all this BoxingTrainer Drama bullshit of the last days... that I was upset with myself for blowing up the way I did.
Then in the middle of my gym routine I get the text: my maternal grandpa's brother-- the sweetest, gentlest one-- passed away.
And so... there I sat amongst the weights... crying like a pussy.
You know... I try to rationalize shit... to debunk all this supernatural shit... but I can't. So many strange little nothings occur to me... they all build up... and while I can't tell WHAT will happen, or when it'll happen... or TO WHOM it'll happen... it ends the same: I lose a loved one.
I don't know how the person will die, when he will die, or WHO will be the one dying... I just know the loss will hurt me.
I wish I could point to a particular person and say "Hey, you, love the fucking shit out of your grandpa right now... because he's going to die... he has been coming to me at night, scaring the shit out of me... and I think it's because he wants me to tell you to quit being a cunt and go say goodbye to him like a normal person. He misses you... now GO!" but I can't. Instead I sit in my room, paranoid as fuck, hoping these creepy things stop... or for them to just become clearer and tell me how I can help out or whatever the fuck needs to be done.
Godspeed, uncle. You were a sweet, caring man. Thank you for proving not only to me, but to the rest of the Hometowners that the M******* men are capable of deeply loving, and respecting women... giving your wife her rightfully deserved respect, and treating her with the endless love you promised her until the very end.
I will miss your stories... your romantic, adorable stories.
Thank you for being one of the only souls capable of, and CONCERNED with, bringing back my grandfather from the dark side to which he always fell victim.
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