Good morning/afternoon/night My darling readers! The date is 2/5/17 and I'm going to tell you all about some memories I've recently recovered, a huge realisation, and my night terrors that suddenly have meaning!
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So-from the first time I've listened to his story to the millionth time- ticci Toby has always been my favourite creepypasta. I'm not sure why but I've always felt a strong connection to him, his past and his emotional turmoil all together. I mean- who wouldn't share at least a fraction of his pain? Though I assumed that was why I connected to him as a character (possibly real human- yet to be discovered) because I was dealing with a lot of family issues at the time. Now, three and a half years later and I still feel like there's more to it then that! That's when I started to connect the dots- my mother was always very cruel to me, I heard voices, had horrible insomnia and to top it all off I too got the ticks every now and then. I know it's not particularly creepypasta experience related but I was so happy to finally figure it out! I felt it would be nice to share with you, dear reader! In other news, I have seemed to have forgotten what I claimed to remember! I'll come back later and update this chapter if the memory hits me again- now for the last bit catching up to do! My nightmares usually consist of me doing some kind of horrible act that- despite me having said nightmare so long ago still stay in my mind with great detail. They all range from murder and canibilasiam, to running from a demonic creature and setting houses/streets/trees on fire. I've realized that my feelings in each nightmare have gone from fear, to apathy, to pleasure/joy, to fear again. I haven't dreamt of killing in a while (humans at least) and my sleep patterns have been getting more and more inconsistent. I wake up after going to sleep at 9 pm with bags under my eyes with no reason! I'll tell more about this later when I remember more (my memory has been getting wore as well)
YOU ARE READING
I'm Not Crazy
ParanormalAfter years of mental breaking a boy, simply the age of thirteen fears he's lost his mind. A favorable source once told this boy that he was meant to do great, great things. Just not humanely.
