If you haven’t read the first two parts, I highly recommend clicking them before continuing with this part.
I don’t know if I’ll be able to write another entry ever again. I feel I’m nearing the end; I’m having trouble visualizing a scenario where I come out of this sane, or even alive. So, if this is the last piece of writing I end up doing, thank you to all who’ve invested their time into my works. I’m thankful for that. Maybe people will pass this around as a ‘creepypasta’ or something. Either way, thank you for reading this, whether you know me, and you are reading this as my final minutes, or you’re just sitting in the dark, enjoying a creepy story. That’s all I ever wanted, for people to read what I wrote.
I think I may have lost a day during this, today is Sunday, but I don’t remember Saturday… So much has happened, I don’t even know how I can keep my fingers moving. I can barely see the words I’m typing, my vision obscured by great wells of tears. My life has fallen apart, and I know no matter how this ends, I’ll never be able to put it back together. I’m getting ahead of myself, let’s go back, when I was still sitting in McDonalds.
First off, let me just say, I don’t know if I believe in ghosts. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. I love science, and it doesn’t really seem possible, but I like to believe that there are things that happen in this world, that we just can’t seem to explain.
With that out of the way, I want to write about some seriously fucked up shit that’s been going on.
Some backstory, there is this ‘ghost’ that follows my two best friends, and I around. I say ghost, but in all reality it could be more than one, or just us tagging that word onto things we can’t really explain. This ghost, largely lived in my parent’s house, jumping from person to person every so often. We never cared, because it never really did anything mean spirited to us. Continue reading
My paternal grandmother passed away a few months ago, and during her funeral, the preacher asked for anyone who wanted to say a few words, to come up, and speak. I wanted to, but I’m not a public speaker, and I have anxiety just thinking about it. I let it pass, but I built the speech in my head, what I would’ve said. I’m not a speaker, but I am a writer, and hopefully, I can give her something she would’ve liked to read.
I didn’t really know my grandmother. I mean, I knew who she was, and what she looked like, but pretty much everything I know about her is from hearsay. I’ve probably seen her around twelve times that I can remember– if even that. So, there’s a lot I don’t know; for instance, I had no idea she liked to thrift, and window shop. So, maybe it isn’t right for me to talk about her life, when I didn’t know it. But, it doesn’t take much time, to get a hold on a person’s spirit. One as big as my grandmother’s is hard to miss.
I didn’t realize my Aunt Cheryl, and my Grandmother Gayla were sisters for the longest time. How could two people be more different? My (Great) Aunt is conservative, and very ‘old-school’, while my Grandma was very much a free spirit, accepting people’s differing lifestyles, and embracing the change that swept this country during her young-adulthood. Both, though, have equally big hearts, and I guess that’s where you can see their relation to each other. Continue reading