With the stars on their shoulders.

I've been feeling meticulously stressed for the last few days, something that's a genuine rarity for me.

And not just stressed in regular ways, but in the way that comes with a snapping irritability and a dense sense of paranoia and morning sickness. Part of me says I should stop this foolishness. Another says I should do anything but, because when (and it's when, not if. It isn't a matter of will He, but a matter of how horrible and what place it will be) He finds me and decides He's wrung me dry of all the night terrors and anxiety attacks and piss-in-your-pants paranoia and finally sends me to The Other Side, there isn't going to be an ounce of memorandum to my name but this scrap of internet space I'm taking up, and the thought of losing even that... It's a little too much for me to process right now.

I saw Him again today. In fact, it was the clearest, most specific moment of contact I've had with Him so far - ironic, considering the one time I'm certain it's Him and not a trick of my mind or a distortion of shadows I'm at the office, surrounded by people in the brightness of day. He was standing outside, innocuous in all of His otherworldliness, ridiculously tall and pale and simply watching, and my head starts to spin in that peculiar way that's only ever significant when you least expect it. My first instinct (and admittedly one of the more stupid of impulses I've ever had) was to lean forward, hands and forehead pressed against the glass to gape, wordless gasps leaving parted lips. Instead I look away, blinking down the swelling, searing heat in my stomach and taking deep breaths - but I look again, and He's still there, and everything goes to hell.


















To hell.