Another night, another nightmare.
I don't know when they started. It seems like they've always been with me. But that can't be right. I can remember restful nights. Can't I?
It's becoming hard to say. I can't stand what I see when I close my eyes, but lately those sights have been plaguing my waking hours, too. Wherever I go, wherever I look, ancient dreads lurk in the shadows. But I think they're getting bolder.
No longer satisfied with skulking in the dark, they now stand in the open. Staring. Waiting.
What happens when they grow tired of even that?
I don't know what to tell you.
Coming to the end of a long day, I felt like I should get some type of writing done. Sitting down to a blank screen, this is what came out. Maybe tomorrow's entry will be a bit less dour.