Saturday, 31 August 2013


I stopped for the night and made camp. I could hear my follower, and I'm certain it's Melanie. She was breathing quickly; occasionally, she'd mutter to herself. I tried walking slowly toward the sound. She was never where I thought she was, always out of sight in one direction or another. The third time I walked away from my small fire, though, I saw a silhouette for a few seconds. It was the right size for Melanie. I stopped looking after that.

I feel cramped and claustrophobic, though I'm in the middle of a vast wasteland. There's nothing but space out here. Despite that, I feel like the oxygen is running out. I take deep breaths, but they don't satisfy me, and there's a burn in my chest that won't go away. I stare up at the stars, and the night sky starts to look like a cloth held inches from my face. I feel like the world ends yards away, like there's nothing left except the narrow stage underneath me and the cardboard sets around me.

I've tried sleeping once already tonight. I was so tired after setting up the camp, I thought I'd be out in minutes. But I was just lying there, fighting with the atmosphere to pull in enough oxygen. In the end I gave up. I feel better when I'm not lying down. I feel less trapped.

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