Dear uh, diary,
Not very used to doing this. I never saw much sense in writing something you don’t plan to share. But things have been getting pretty weird; need to sort it out.
I’m not good at talking to others. It’s easier when the lines are written for me. I wonder if Sunny’s ever noticed how many things I say are recycled. Definitely don’t know Jillian well enough to talk about it. Not sure I even have a right to.
We . . . called something last night. I thought it was a spirit or a demon from someplace else, but it wasn’t. Not really.
It was a part of me. It was everything I wanted; everything I know. It was all my desires in one . . . sexy . . . package.
But if it was part of ME, what couldn’t I control it? If it was part of ME, why did I have to make a deal to get what I want? Did I bargain with myself? If it was part of ME . . .
It ripped something away from Jillian. It took a part of her. And it wanted more. I felt it.
Is that the real me? Is that who I am?
Have not slept much. Afraid to. Rolling over possibilities in my brain. Should I call that thing again? Can I control it? Am I stronger? I’m not sure I want to know.
Maybe the real mistake was to go into this with any intention of bargaining. Maybe I gave it all of the control before we even started. I shouldn’t have to beg and plead with myself. I shouldn’t be making compromises. There must be other . . . things I can call out. Something smaller; something weaker. Something I can beat into submission and tell what to do. I’ll wait until I’m alone again.
Likely to be a busy week.