Waiting

You know those sounds you hear when no one is home?

Those sounds only you hear. When you’re alone. I do. I hear them everyday. The creaking. The noises. The paranoia of my mind playing tricks on me, but is it really?

What if there is someone outside of the door. Waiting for me to see what that sound is. What if he is just waiting for my curiosity to take over and warp my mind into his world? He’s waiting for my mind to weaken. Waiting for me to fall asleep. Waiting for something. For something I don’t know. He’s waiting. Just waiting.

Have you ever woken up in the middle of the night, paralyzed by something holding you down, Frozen in fear? You can’t move. You can barely breathe and all you hear is what reminds you of that ringing in your ear that gets louder and louder and screeches and takes over your fear that makes you tremble in your paralyzed state. That noise that blocks out everything else in your mind except for your heartbeat, and it terrifies you. That feeling of helplessness. Knowing that whatever happens to you, whatever fate you have is in his hands. I know that feeling all too well. It terrifies me. It haunts me. But yet…. It’s become a part of me.

Have you ever woken up in a cold sweat? Not knowing if what you just felt was a hallucination, a dream, a nightmare. Some horrendous joke, or if it really happened? That feeling of relief and terror. All at the same time. That uneasy feeling of insecurity. Being afraid of the night, of sleep, of dreaming. The unexplainable pain in your heart in your spirit. That you know it happened but you don’t want to believe it. How can you believe it? It was a stupid dream right? Right? RIGHT?

It’s taking over my mind, my life. I don’t feel safe anywhere. No matter where I go, where I stay, he’s there. In my head, outside my door, that creaking, those shadow, the ones outside your line of sight, he’s there. He’s watching. The minute you look in his direction he won’t be there, but believe me, he’s watching. That uneasy feeling you get, the feeling of being watched, it’s him. I KNOW it’s him. He’ll always be there, laughing. Laughing at your pain, at your trembling, agony, and crying.

They won’t believe you. No one will believe you. They know what it feels like. They know what HE feels like, but they won’t believe you. I tried telling them, I tried warning them. WARNING THEM. They tell me I’m schizophrenic, but I know the truth. He’s waiting. Just waiting.