I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm happy and no I'm really not it's like the walls are always closing in I shot myself up with a painkiller. I tried to sort out my arm but the medical equipment here is covered in the blood of Ben and clogged up with his rotting skin and his crushed bones, almost completely unusable almost completely unusable. It's my left arm, and it's the bone, because it broke through the skin, and I had to try and set it back into place and I'm fucking terrified because if this gets infected I'm dead, I'd have to try and cut off my own arm or something and it'd kill me, the shock should have killed me anyway broken pretty badly. I set it back in and tried to stitch it up though. It's difficult trying to set your own bones, it's almost completely impossible and I can't remember how to care for bones when the skin is pierced properly, my brain is rotting in my skull, I can feel it, my head caving in though. I'm trying to stay happy, trying to keep up the facade, it's why I've got to make the negative stuff as hidden as possible, so I can't see it when I look at the blog, but it's not working, just a cry for help and I'm screaming and there's nobody around anywhere, unblinking eyes watching and whispering against me, cold words on a screen and that's all ignore m the guy who has been posting on here. It seems like he's got access to the blog so how the hell could you do this to your own child? I'm sure he'll take opportunities to fuck me over more fuck you fuck you fuck you "communicate" further.
As to why I fell down the stairs, I can't remember. I can't remember.
I can't remember I can' remember I can't remmember I can't i can't i can
I don't want to it makes everything just a hallucination he wasn't there. The tall man wasn't at the top of the stairs. I'm happy. If being happy doesn't keep him away I'm dead. Smiling. I'm dead.