(June 10, 2010)

My phone rang shortly after 2:00 in the afternoon. Another unknown number. I debated whether to answer it, but thought in light of my latest brushes with the strange, whatever blend they were of pranks, malfunctions, an overactive imagination and sleep deprivation, I’d be bold enough. Likely there’d be nothing but static and breathing anyway.

“Hello?”

Static, yes, but not creepy breathing.

“Katie?”

“Kyle.”

“Sure.”

“What do you want?”

“I hope you’re still studying.”

“Studying what?”

“Studying whom. You, Katie.”

An iciness spread through me. I shouldn’t have answered the phone. Obviously it was him. Obviously he was still messing with me. Again I wondered if he knew about my blog, if he’d happened to stumble across it online somehow, realized what he had here, and settled in to manipulate me quite thoroughly knowing what was going on inside my head, playing with my reality.

It almost made me want to stop writing in my blog, or at least want to drop subtle nuances in here to play with him, little irregularities. Little lies to mess with him back.

I suppose even expressing the thought alone makes you trust less what I’m sharing. But that’s okay. This blog isn’t about trust. It’s about the cathartic process of putting my thoughts to paper, an organization or something that seems to be speaking in metaphors and manipulations. It’s about finding a reality in the unreal, a reality in a world unseen, unknown. About finding community, value. It’s about reaching for the sky even as you’re swimming deep.

If you’re reading this right now, Kyle, and you continue to feel the need to manipulate me, you’re a cruel person.

And even if you do, I’ll continue to find meaning in it.

“Don’t ever talk to me again, Kyle.”

I hung up the phone.