Every night I wake up under the same crooked tree.

Alone.

Afraid.

I’m not sure why, but, it is terrifying. It shouldn’t be, I know. It’s not like I’m dying or surrounded by dead bodies. But the eeriness of it. The vulnerability of _myself_.

I don’t know who does it. There’s no trace of anything in my house that would lead me to suspect anyone.

At first I thought I started to sleepwalk.

My doctor told me otherwise.

One night I had tried to stay up to see what would happen. I almost succeeded, but one moment I felt sleepy and drowsy.

Then I was under the tree again.

Does the person doing this find this _fun_?

To torment me like this?

Or am I finally just going insane?

Am I going crazy, tell me!

What kind of person drags someone out of their home every night, just to put them under a tree.

Is this a sign? Does someone from my childhood want revenge? Are their higher beings in play?

I just don’t understand, I want to act calm about the whole situation, but I can’t. It’s already hard enough to sort through my thoughts.

I can’t call the police—there’s no evidence whatsoever. And I don’t want to tell my friends. I don’t want them in this mess, so I guess I just have to figure out what the hell is going on.

I don’t want this to happen forever; if it does, I fear I’ll kill myself.

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_(Wow. I have no drive to write. Probably because of all the informational essays and project stuff I gotta do. My procrastination is waning, and my brain is doing flip flops_

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_Alrighty, thanks for reading this jumble of mess and have a wonderful day.)_