Confessions of a haunted mind

You know, I never really thought I was haunted, until I found that whatever I saw in horror movies just reflected what was really on my mind. It made me think about what I experienced in my own life, made me realize that I really am haunted. No one is going to believe me, I know they will take this as a fiction novel, but it really isn’t. This is my confessions of a haunted mind.

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1. Prologue

 

I’ve known it all my life. That I was something special, something this world isn’t yet ready to accept. They call us weirdoes because we are not exactly the same. We believe in other things. We believe in the unseen, what isn’t spoken about. The rest of the world isn’t yet ready to understand this, and God or whoever makes this move, only choose persons who are qualified for the job. The job to make the rest of the world see truth. This isn’t easy, and someone will never know they are chosen for the job. But I do. I’ve known it all my life. It’s not visual, but it doesn’t have to be. It’s that feeling when someone’s watching you, but no one’s there. We have all had that feeling time to time, but imagine what it’s like, to have that feeling every second of your life, even in your sleep. Small noises, where normal people would debunk it as being an insect,  or a bug, or a mouse or something else explainable, where we know it’s not. It’s a feeling, that you’ll never learn to live with, it will get less uncomfortable as the years go by, but you’ll never get rid of looking over your shoulder when you walk in the dark. Never. I am afraid of it. Afraid of everything that I can’t see. I don’t care if you’re going to believe me, or take this as a fantasy novel. I don’t care, honestly, because I isn’t writing this for you, I’m writing this for me. It’s important for me, to get my fear, my feelings down on paper, so I can look at it, and feel that I share my fear to everybody else. That’s why I’m writing this. This isn’t fiction for me, I’m a 100% serious in everything that I say, nothing’s a lie to me. I wouldn’t lie to anyone, not about this. I’m bound to do this, to feel their present, whether or not I want to. I didn’t have a choice, no one asked me if I wanted to, because they already knew my answer. I don’t want to, but I have to. When I wake up in the morning, I have scratches and bruises that no one can find a logical explanation for. Not even me. I haven’t told anyone about it. Not even my closest family, as they would immediately think I was crazy, and belonged in a psychiatric hospital. The only one I have trusted enough to tell this, is my pillow. But it’s not only feelings, it’s dreams to. Go ahead laugh at me, or believe me, I don’t care which you choose, and who knows, I might already be in a psychiatric hospital, locked away in a cell. Who knows? Who cares anyways? I have these strange dreams, I see the future. Not anything interesting, not yet at least. Just these everyday situations, where I in the morning can wake up, and remember the dream, and then later on, I find myself in the middle of my dream, but, it’s just that it happens. Some call it déjà vu, but I don’t as I clearly can remember my dream in the morning. That creeps me out, almost even more than the feelings I get. I can’t explain it. I have no heavy evidence to support my stories, as I’m going to tell you very soon. So you’re going to be the one to decide whether or not you believe what I’m saying.  

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