Fuckballs

I started this as a joke, I swear. I wanted in on the creepifying, maybe-there's-come-grain-of-truth alternate reality game and maybe put a more positive spin on it with the symbol. But everything I write becomes true. I write about my nightmares and I become scared. I just got back from a walk in the woods and my heart is still pounding.

That's right, I went for a walk to carve the symbol into some tree trunks. I stepped off the lit asphalt road into the undergrowth and scrawled in the dark with the little saw tool on my old Swiss army knife and giggled to myself like a crazy person, because making those crosses against Slenderman made me feel safe.

And of course my camera ran out of batteries, stupid rechargeables die when you don't use it for a few weeks, so of course you won't believe a word of this.

By the way just when I stepped back in the light I heard a couple of young men walking ahead of me talking about how everyone with the same last name were going to die. Probably an entirely fictional scenario and a complete coincidence. But it seemed a little too convenient, like a face appearing in the leafwork when you're not even looking for one.

And there I go again, creeping myself out. I need to stop this immediately. I don't believe a word of what I'm saying.

I don't believe in Slenderman.

If I don't believe it can't touch me.

I need to stop writing this blag. Sorry if you were expecting some dramatic climax or more than a few hours of entertainment or something. I quit. I'm out.