Drama Llamas

 

Well, my friends, it appears that my situation has become a tad hectic.  As the girl I have simply dubbed “Girl” has mentioned, she has a boyfriend (who shall henceforth be given the creative moniker of “Boyfriend”).  Now, I have great faith in your intelligence, my readers, so I do not believe I have to tell you what sort of conclusions a person jumps to when their significant other suddenly begins spending the majority of their time with another member of the other sex.

For now, it will suffice to say that his reaction toward me has been…less than favorable.  He does not think that I know that he knows, nor does he realize that I know that he thinks he knows.  I actually find it quite a nuisance to be stalked from the shadows, considering that I already have a certain mysterious gentleman doing the same thing.  Mr. Boyfriend should attempt some originality.  The fellow should at least have the decency to confront me face to face (though he may simply lack the chutzpah).  It’s actually quite infuriating.  When it comes to operas, I prefer scores to soaps.

Oh, yes, I’ve gotten ahead of myself, haven’t I?  While your lack of support is certainly unappreciated, I’m sure that at least one of you has been worried about the girl called Girl.  Well, fear not.  The doctors, after a few tests, decided that she was in good health and fit for an honorable discharge.  We have been separated for no longer than an hour over the weekend.  Yes, that includes nights.  She has been unable to sleep, and has had to depend on me as an anchor to keep her sane. 

Her reaction to the Slender Man has been less favorable than most cases I have heard of.  While the doctors did, in fact, declare her to be healthy, that was merely her physical condition at the time.  Her physical health has been fluctuating.  Her mental state, however, has not.  No, that has, unfortunately, been on a steady decline.  She does not look delicate or fragile.  No, that was a day or two ago.  As of now, she already looks broken.  Shattered.  My id just wants to grab her and hold her close to me, to whisper in her ear that everything will be all right and that we can survive this all somehow.  My superego, on the other hand, knows that Boyfriend may or may not be lurking just around the corner.  And, of course, that it is not exactly socially acceptable to act on feelings I harbor for a taken woman.  But how can I not care?  After all, she’s perhaps the most incredible Girl I have met.  It’s rather unfortunate that I can’t even tell you why, for privacy reasons.

And also quite unfortunate that she seems to feel the need to stop me every time I attempt to confront that Slim-figured Gentleman.