5:55. 555. It’s everywhere. And I can’t feel his presence at all. I can ALWAYS tell when he’s around. And he’s obviously around. He’s behind this. I KNOW he’s fucking behind this. So WHY THE FUCK CAN’T I FEEL HIM?
Come out, you skinny bastard! Come on! I’m willing to meet you! Just do me a favor and FUCKING SHOW YOURSELF. I can’t take this anymore! Just come out! You wanna do me a fucking favor here?
555. I never wanna see that fucking number in my life again. Fucking number. Mocking me. Telling me “hey, guess what? You’re not anywhere real anymore. Time and space have no meaning here. You’re in a fucking three floor building that takes up about 5 billion cubic miles.”
Oh, wait, just because you guys probably don’t know…this is the 5th post. Yeah, the number 5 again. I dunno what number it is for you guys.
Fuck! Okay, Will, I give. I’ll give you my location. But just you. How do I get in contact with you? Or I dunno. Maybe you’re not supposed to give me that info. I haven’t seen anything about it yet. Hell, maybe you won’t get this until I’m out of the labyrinth. Maybe I won’t get the info you get me until it’s too late already. But hey, I’m holding out some hope yet.
Fucking number 5. I need to get the fuck out of here. And soon.
Wbreeck@gmail.com sorry I left it out of my last comments.
ReplyDeleteWell, shit. Stay strong, Jekyll.
ReplyDeleteGod, I hope this works.
Erm...thanks for the offer, Will. But like I've said, I'm kind of hesitant to rely on other people. No offense. Maybe a last ditch measure. For now, though, I think I can still probably get out of this okay.
ReplyDeleteAll right we're on are way hold on.
ReplyDeleteAre you getting the comments ok now?
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