Through The Static

Other Side

Dinner was nice. We made spaghetti because that's the only thing either of us know how to make without a recipe on standby. Mom and dad are still out though. Maybe I should leave them a note. Yeah, I'll leave them a note.

"We left you some spaget" I think that'll do. I grab my plate and put it in the sink. I'll wash it tomorrow. I go ahead and go brush my teeth, while staring at my reflection. Have you ever felt uncomfortable in your own fur (Or scales or feathers. I'm not racist)? I don't know why, but every time I stare at that stupid tired face in the mirror, I just feel weird. Who knows. Probably just the fact that I always look like a wreck. Haven't bothered to comb my fur in a long time. Bah, I'm rambling.

I finish brushing my teeth, put my phone on the charger, and sit down on my bed. And then I feel it. That slight little tingle on the top of my spine. That cold feeling that makes my fur stand on end. That feeling of fear that I've grown all too familiar with.

Do you ever feel like someone's watching you from right outside your window? Like someone's under your bed, waiting for you to get up so they can drag you under? Like if you make even the slightest movement, some horrible creature will come bursting into your room? I hate that feeling. I hate it with every fiber of my being. It leaves me paralyzed in terror. I can't think, I can't speak. I don't know why I'm so scared. Not fully anyway. Every so often I get that tingle and I move, or at least I don't want to. I sit there, staring at my door, fearing what could lurk on the other side. My breathing is shallow and shaky. My hands are trembling. Why is the silence so deafening?

I manage to grab my headphones and put them on. I grab my phone and open up my music app. Come on. I don't have time for an ad right now! I start playing my music and I can feel my fear slip away. All of that anxiety, just poof. I can feel that pit in the bottom of my stomach fade away as I mouth the lyrics. What song is this? It's on the tip of my tongue. Oh yeah, that's right. 3 O'clock Things...

I'm getting worse. That tingle used to come a lot less often, maybe once a month, but it's become so much more frequent over the past 3 years. Maybe I should tell someone. No, then people will worry.

I sigh, taking my headphones off and lying my head down on my pillow. How long did I have that little panic attack? What time is it? I glance over at the clock. 1 already? Damn. I close my eyes and let exhaustion take me.

Tomorrow is another day