5:55

 

5:55.  5:55.  I am so sick of seeing 5:55 over and over.  And I know it’s not 5:55 anymore.  It usually takes me a few minutes to write up a post, and I know that I’ve been walking for a while.  I’m not sure how long, but I’m damn sure that it’s been at least a minute.  But no, the fucking clock just says 5:55 over and over again.  I check my laptop.  5:55.  I check my phone.  5:55.  Five Fucking Fifty-Five, and it is fucking everywhere in my mind.

I didn’t pay attention to the numbers on the door at first.  I’m doing that now, and ever door number is 555.  That shouldn’t be right.  There isn’t even a fifth floor.  He knows I’m breaking down, and he’s mocking me.  He’s getting to me.

I think…I think I’m officially outside of time.  Most of the comments are making more sense now, but there are still a few things out of place.  I’m thinking that I’m not sending and receiving the same messages at the same time as you.  Getting things that haven’t been sent yet.  Not getting things that have.  And the same is probably true for you guys on my blog, judging from some of the responses I’ve gotten.

Fuck.  I just…fuck.  I can’t do this.  He’s fucking around with time now.  I can’t even ask you guys what time it is.  I’m…I don’t know if I can do this much longer.  I just want to sit down and have a nice sob for a while, but I know I’ll never get out of the labyrinth that way.  How the hell do  get out, anyway?  Find the exit?  Yeah, good luck with that.  Find some sort of epiphany?  What the hell am I supposed to get enlightened about?  Jeez…Will, I’m just about tempted to take you up on that offer.  Don’t count it completely out of the question yet.

I can’t do this.  I dunno.  I’m getting repetitive now, but I can’t even fucking think anymore.  I’m hungry, but I’m out of food.  I’m thirsty, but I haven’t seen a fountain in a while.  I’m tired, but I can’t risk going to sleep here.  And I don’t even fucking know what’s going on.  This is the first time in all of this when I’ve felt completely helpless.  I was prepared for this situation.  That’s why I had the food and the string.  There are some things I guess you can’t really prepare for, though.  I was proud of my survival knowledge, and the Slender Man put me here to let me know that I have no right to be proud.  I think that might be why I’m here.

Now how the fuck do I get out?

Ah, well.  Back to walking and singing.

Iiiiii’m not siiiiiiiick…but I’m not weeeeeeeeeell…and I’m so hooooooooot….

…

‘Cause I’m in hell….