Depression and Cute Mushrooms

Depression sometimes feels like it gets the best of me.

It leaves me crying in the shower. It leaves me feeling like no one loves me, like I dont matter.

I’m not sharing this because I want attention. I just want you to know that sometimes a kind word can go so far. I want you to know that, despite it all, sometimes our spirituality, a belief, can give us something to hold on to.

For me, what helped today was my birdies. It’s a small thing, and may seem so pointless to so many. Very few seem to care about my birds. Im far from a ground breaking pagan author. Yet they matter to me. They help me see, in some way, happiness again.

Thats all that matters with art, really. The joy and happiness it brings us.

Im sharing this picture, hoping it can bring you some happiness too. May you always have a cute mushroom to sit under, dry and happy, from the rain.

Why write about Spirituality and Mental Illness?

Well, before I get back into my groove of writing about mental illness, it occurred to me that I should maybe explain the ‘why’ behind the decision to talk about mental illness and spirituality.

There’s a saying that goes (and I really don’t remember where it’s from) something along the lines of how the most earnest prayers come from people in hospitals. I think this is particularly true about people in psych wards, or who are dealing with mental illness.

People turn to spirituality when they are hurt, confused, or generally lost. And mental illness makes you feel that, in an strange way sometimes. Because mental illness isn’t seen as a physical problem, its invisible and most don’t realize it’s got physical roots, people don’t turn immediately to doctors. Sadly, people actually refuse to see doctors for mental illness because of perceptions and biases that have their roots in spiritual beliefs.

Some of these are ones like: mental illness is the result of a curse, or God’s punishment for a lack of faith, or the result of being estranged from God. It can also be believed to be an imbalance of chakras that only requires meditation to be cured, spirit possession, or (my personal pet peeve, and one that truly held me back) the belief that mental illness is some sort of psychic ‘breakthrough’.

A bunch of these are due to the conflation/mix of mental health and mental illness. Due to the lack of understanding on the difference of these two, people will often try and use spirituality and spiritual practices (which can be beneficial to mental health) to treat mental illness.

Personally, when I went out with my service dog for mental illness, people would often ask me what the dog was for. Once they found out it was for mental illness, these strangers would often end up giving me some sort of advice or opinion on mental illness. Most of these were spiritual perspectives that were against medication and ‘western medicine’, as well as conventional therapy.

Similarly, when I really struggled with my mental illness and was unmedicated, people often threw spiritual advice at me. It was all anti medication and anti conventional doctors. Now that I am medicated and happily so, I find it really disturbing that there is so much anti-medication sentiment out there! I sometimes wonder what my path to healing would have been like if I had been surrounded by more realistic approaches.

Anyways, now that I am in a better space mentally, I think it’ll be nice to get back into talking about mental illness and spirituality. I think it’ll do me good, as it’s something that I really care about, and love discussing with others. I find it nourishing and cleansing.

I also want to really show others that getting conventional help is not anti spirituality. I once met a doctor in training at a mental health clinic, and he was really surprised to hear that not all spirituality is against medication, and that I had arguments against those points. It made for a very interesting discussion, but also showed me that there wasn’t much perspectives out there that are spiritual and embracing of actual treatment for mental illness.

Anyways, that’s all I have to say for today! I will be posting a video to MY CHANNEL soon about these points, and it will basically be a copy of this post. I’m doing this because some formats are easier for some people and not everyone likes reading, and I’m hoping to make this as available as possible.

I wish you all a lovely day ❤

Back Again ~ Hopefully to a New Start

I had a dream last night. I dreamt that I was coming to the conclusion that it was wrong of me to have pulled this blog from the web, and that I would resume my blogging.

The truth is, I’ve been feeling guilty lately about pulling my blog from the web. Maybe it’s inflated of me, but I like to think that my blog posts help people, even in a small way, to understand and cope with their mental illness. So, pulling this blog from the internet felt mean to me. Like I was taking away what someone might need in their moment of darkness.

But the fact is also that I feel vulnerable. I’m no longer sure of my spiritual foundations. Mental illness, psychosis, and the weird nuances of it all are getting to me. How do I define my beliefs? I do not know anymore. I’m really not sure, and frankly, am not sure I will ever be sure.

The thing is, when you get feelings and calling that contradict your beliefs, life gets weird. It gets weirder when you’re not sure what’s psychosis and what’s medication and what’s genuine – and how does it all tie in?

Anyways, this post is just to say that I’m going to be trying to bring this blog back to life, but hopefully not too personal of a way so that I feel like taking it down again.

Wishing you all the best ❤

Officially in Two Shops!

Hey lovelies! I am so happy to finally announce that, after much effort and outreach, TwoLoveBirds is officially in two shops local to me! One is a book store called ‘les Appalaches’, located in Sherbrooke, Quebec, and the other is a cute little gift shop located in Lennoxville, Quebec called ‘les 3 fees’ (literally, the three fairies). Both are very charming and cute places, and if ever you are in the are you must visit them! Also, if you’re wanting to buy one of my books, you can order it from them!

I wish I could continue this post by saying that I am celebrating, feasting, and being quite jolly about this new step forward. But the fact is, I’m terrified. I’m upset and miserable.

The moment I knew that my books were accepted, I plunged into a depression. Self-destructive anxiety came over me, and I just worried about how I don’t have enough advertisements, how my books may very well not sell, and so on and so forth.

The truth is I want this project to keep growing. I don’t want to be set back and told that, in fact, my books won’t sell on a local level. I don’t want to be told that they are too niche and too unrelatable and so on and so forth. I’m afraid, and so I quiver and melt down.

I have been supported lately by lovely people, and I am safe and not in harm’s way, so please do not worry. I will persevere, and I will progress. Hopefully the twolovebirds will, too!

Wishing you all the best. ❤

Cptsd, Books, and Created Spirits

Today, I discovered something. Namely, that I do not particularly like living in other people’s worlds.

What do I mean? I mean reading. But not the usual kind of reading. I mean, there comes a point when the reading is too engrossing, that you start feeling the story live around you. I hope im not the only one to experience this, because it is unsettling. Even more unsettling is the fact I have no control over where the story or setting will go. So I try and read faster to rip off the bandage and get it over with. But that usually just engrossed me more, and I sink deeper into this world.

It almost feels like a mist around me, today. The feeling, the aura of this novel I’m reading. In an esoteric sense, I suppose one could say the created soul, the Grigori of the book has been summoned. But it bothers me.

It really, truly, bothers me because the only stories where I want to live and feel myself in and around me are ones I can control, at least to some degree. Where I can halt the pain. Where I can truly enjoy myself without too much fear. There is uncertainty in every writing or true artistic endeavor, I suppose. But I like to imagine that I, the author, am in control of the art.

But in the past few days I have sprained my wrist rather badly, and so have been reading others novels instead of immersing in my own. In fact, I’ve done more reading in the past 24 hours than I have in a month. It has been fun, but rather unsettling. I feel like if I push the envelope, I will be bridging two worlds, that one I live in and the one I am reading about.

Thinking of it in terms of a created spirit, a Grigori, makes sense to me now, but it is still unsettling. I sort of feel like the silver tongue in Inkheart, who could create things by reading them aloud (or so I recall of the story). Truly, I am sure, there are many spiritual ramifications to this, from the neopagan perspective as well as an authors perspective. But I dont want to go there too much.

I like reality, but I also enjoy my own fantasy worlds. Today, while being all cozy, I realized that I truly enjoy immersing in my fantasy worlds and half living in them. I say half living, because they are all I think and breathe for half a day, or a quarter. They fill my mind and obsess me. They bring this aura to me, this presence of joy. It makes me feel accompanied, loved, and surrounded by magic. But it saddens me to realize, as I did today, that the only tasks I am truly successful at are ones that involve sinking into these fantasy worlds. Tasks related to reality and observing it, like cleaning, I am terrible at.

Maybe I am looking too much into things, but maybe I am not. Cptsd makes me often want to escape, to run away, to forget. It has made me sensitive, I suppose, but also makes me… unreal at the same time. I feel, because of my memory loss, a disconnect from the past. Like it didn’t actually happen to me. At the same time I feel a void where my memories should be. In a sense, I feel forever young because I am not aging because I have so few memories and ties to reality.

Anyways, I am writing this purely because I wanted to share. If you are out there an have lived something similar, this bridging of worlds between books and reality, please let me know. I’d like not to be the only one. If you read this and find it curious, I’ll admit that it is! But please don’t just think “oh thats weird” and move on. Entertain me a little, and think on what ifs and ramifications with me. Discuss with me, I’d greatly enjoy it.

In any case, I wish you all the best. Have a lovely day 💗

More Updates!

Hi everyone! I’m sorry if I worry you, but I’m still not well. I think it’s because yesterday I had to call a victim’s advocacy group in order to try and get myself psychotherapy… Long story short it was stressful. Anything to do with the past is stressful for me.

The worst part is that I know that it’s ok. It’s just a phone call. I can see the connection between it and the past – and yet I still get all worked up and anxious and can’t stop myself from experiencing it. Ugh.

Writing helped. Talking helped. Painting digitally helped. But I’m still fragile. It frustrates me so much to see that the past still affects me so much, nose-diving me straight into an anxious mess.

Oh well. Thank you to everyone for your well wishes and kind thoughts, I appreciate them. I sincerely hope that you all are doing well and that you and yours are safe ❤ lots of love.

I’m dropping here a picture that I worked on today. It’s not perfect but what the hell, I like it. It’s of Rebella, who I’m sure is going to be super important in the story and an utter pain for our MC (who still needs a name).

Aggressive Self Care

Apparently it’s a term my psychiatrist had never heard before. Aggressive self care. But it’s what I’m trying to do, haha.

Lately, I’ve been trying so hard to take care of myself. If it was a technique, or a strategy, it would definitely be called aggressive. Proactive at the very least.

I’m trying to make myself actual food. No cake for lunch kind of deal. I’m trying to drink water. I’m trying to do the five daily prayers as a way to consciously take 5 minute breaks of zen. I’ve even been trying to limit my desserts and only take them when I self care.

So far, it’s been helping. I’m getting back on my feet. Im trying not to push myself too hard to write though, hence my not cranking out so many words lately. Im very sorry for anyone who’s looking for some of the Circlet story. I just cant seem to write it, and Lage’s story is just coming to me easier these days.

I have been working on my children’s activity book too, and am about halfway through it. It’s going to be huge (to me, haha)! Its going to be over 70 pages of activities and colorings to do! All pagan themed! I cant wait to see what you all think of it!

What else has been happening in my life? I’ve been coming to terms with some difficult things, family wise, as well as trying to spend time with my loved ones. Rough things are happening, but we will get through this. I’m really just trying to heal right now.

Also, I’m working on a special birdie project that means so much to me, but it’s a secret so far. At least I dont remember posting about it before, and dont plan to until its finished and I can finalize it. Knowing me itll take quite some time to get it done, but it’s in the works. Good things are coming, yall.

Finally, I want to say thank you to everyone and anyone who has bought my books. I am very touched by all the sales I’ve made, and am considering celebrating them by offering signed books for a price. Would anyone be interested? Or some bookmarks?

I’ve been thinking of holding a contest for my birthday, where I could send out a book to one winner, bookmarks to the second, and something else to the last one. Would anyone be interested in it if it was a writing contest? Or just a “share the page and like” sort of contest? Give me your thoughts! I miss hearing from you all!

I hope you are all very well, and wish you all the best in these hard times ❤

Lage’s Game ~ Chapter Six Part One

Kayla slammed a bottle of vodka down onto the kitchen table. The table was a round thing, wooden and solid. The kitchen was small, but bright and cozy with some dangling plants here and there.

Shaking, Kayla put together a drink for herself. For once she didn’t try and smile at me. She just squeezed out that lemon – then tipped the whole drink back.

Straight aways, making a face, she poured herself another one. Then she sat down, adjacent to me. She put her head in her hands, fingers running through her blonde streaked curls. Then she looked up at me. She was empty, haggard.

“I-” she started, but then was lost for words. She drew the vodka drink to herself.

“They’re here, that’s what it means,” I said flatly, unicorn in my lap. Wretchedly, it still comforted me. It felt like a survivor now, like me.

“Hon,” she said, voice trembling. “The police had that, the fact it’s here,” she took a deep inhale. “They gave it away.”

“To them,” I said stoically.

Kayla nodded, eyes shimmering with tears. “They’re here,” she croaked. “I thought – that if we left the city,” she picked up the vodka drink and tipped some back.

“It’s okay,” I said sternly, knowing that was the right thing to say.

It wasn’t. She burst into tears, sobbing. “It’s not!” she sobbed. She covered her mouth with a hand, tears trickling down her cheeks. Shaking, she drew a large breath. “I’ll get a security system,” she babbled. “I- we’ll figure something out. We can move.”

“Again?” I asked. “They’ll follow us.”

She tossed back her vodka with a gulp. “Nunavut or something,” she mumbled. Then she rose, still trembling. “Let’s go to bed. Sleep always helps. We will feel better tomorrow morning.”

I didn’t want to tell her that they almost always struck by night. I just nodded, stomach tight. I didn’t tell her that I still needed supper. What point was there?

Slowly, lights were switched on for us to walk upstairs to a small bedroom where she drew out blankets from the closet. Then, quite suddenly and haphazardly, Kayla put all the blankets away and announced that I would sleep in the bed next to her. I didn’t argue. I just put my pajamas on in the bathroom and brushed my teeth.

That night, I lay on my back with eyes wide open. The moonlight drifted in through the thin curtains. Kayla shifted and shifted. Finally, an hour later, she fell asleep.

I lay there and listened for the crick of the door. I listened, body tense with every bird chirp and cuckoo from outside. I listened, heart pounding in my throat and mouth turning dry. I checked the glowing clock by the bed, watching the time seemingly freeze – only to tick off a number every so often. It was agonizing. Then, three am struck.

I heard a footstep almost in time with the flickering change on the clock. I froze, every muscle tense. I gripped my hand in my pocket, clenching my keys that I had snuck into bed. I was going for the eyes this time. No hesitation. They wanted to send a message? So would I.

Soft, quiet, thumps were barely audible. The stairs creaked a warning. I hoped Kayla wouldn’t wake. She’d just get hurt and get in the way. No, this was my battle.

The footsteps stopped before the closed bedroom door. For three heartbeats, nothing. Then, the doorknob turned with a click. The door swung open – and squeaked oh so loudly.

Kayla gasped, sitting up in bed. With a grappling scramble, she flicked the light on from her bedside. Light glowed gently out from the lampstand near her side of the bed.

I Had sat up despite myself, and Kayla was gulping for air, looking from me to the opened door. “Stay there,” she whispered before picking up a beer bottle from beside her bed.

Then, as bravely as she could, she walked to the darkness of the corridor. The beer bottle was lifted as she switched on the lights in the hallway.

She yelped, then stepped back. She was frozen stiff, but then she shook herself. “There’s nothing!” she announced. Turning her back on the hallway in a stupid move, she announced to me with wild eyes “There’s nothing!”

Then she looked again into the hallway, as if to make sure.

“What did you see?” I asked, stepping out of the bed. I walked to her side. She glanced from me to the hallway.

“A man. He was wearing green. It- but he just vanished. Must have been a shadow,” she said, looking around once more.

I walked out into the hallway. I wished I could sense leftover energies, like some psychics could. What did that man want? I even walked to the spare room. The door was locked.

“They couldn’t have gone in there so quickly,” said Kayla tensely. “Come back to bed.”

I did. Again, we lay down. Kayla set the beer bottle back on the floor beside her – and there was the sound of tires crunching on the road. It stopped before our house.

“They’re here,” a male voice announced from the hallway.

Kayla leaped up. Bottle in hand, she stood by the bed, shaking all over. A shadow stepped out of the shadows and into our bedroom.

“They’re here,” the man repeated, and I saw an outline of a cloak on his form. “What are you going to do?”

I stepped out of the bed, the floor cold to my bare feet. Ice prickled over my skin. The moment had come. The final showdown – or so I hoped.

“Who are you?” asked Kayla. “What do you want?”

“I’m not with them, if that answers anything,” he said. “But you will need to decide fast.”

“I’m killing them,” I announced breathlessly, keys in hand and ready to scratch and maim.

“I won’t let you do that,” he said somberly. Downstairs, the front door softly clicked open. He whispered now. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to kill them,” I repeated.

Lage’s Game ~ Chapter Five Part One

Trigger Warning: Violence!!!

The next morning was the doctor. If I had listened to Kayla on the drive there, I would have realized we weren’t going to school.

Instead, we drew up to the hospital. It was squat, dirty cream colored, and essentially a glorified square. There was some attempts at grass and greenery, but it remained a cement cube in a city.

The doctor was somewhat like that. He was dusty, old, white, and seemed to just stare at me. I tried to tell him about the man in green. I tried to tell him about the board game. The words choked up in me and I didn’t know how to start. How to begin, how to let it out.

I found tears streaming down my face and I pulled a tissue from the box.

“I’m upset,” I managed to say.

I got excused from final exams. My marks would be tallied from those of my year. I left the office, threw my tissues into the garbage, and sat in the waiting room with my unicorn. Kayla had said to wait for her here. She was doing some phone calls and would be with me soon.

I looked up when the door opened. It was not Kayla.

“Hey,” said the big man that was recognizable even without the ski mask or suit. He was in plain clothes and had a chiseled face that spelled danger. “Let’s go.”

AS the door swung shut behind him, I saw several other men out there. They had come for me in force. All four of them, for one little girl? Cowards. What more did they want from me? I had probably already digested the card and rendered it useless.

I guessed then that they wanted my death. They wanted to punish me for destroying the card. To make an example of me of sorts.

Well. I rose to my feet without thinking. I glared this big man down. Coward.

To my right, across the waiting room, the secretary was busy with her official business, picking up the phone to dial someone. I took a deep breath.

“Come, on,” said the man in a dangerous intone.

I marched out the door, a cold sense of purpose coming over me. I wanted revenge. I wanted to slaughter, main, kill, so badly it felt like I would burst from it. It was like a rising tide, a super-sense coming over me and making me tingle all over, like a volcano about to blow.

Out of the door I walked into the other three men. One placed a hand on my shoulders and, as a group, they began walking me out of the building.

“Hey! Hey!” Kayla had not been far, was just down the hallway. I heard her cry from behind us. In a glance over my shoulder, I saw her begin to run towards us, phone in hand and eyes wide. I could hear her shoes clop-clopping, but the men were faster. The one who had me by the arm took off, darting forward. I was lifted up in his arms. My unicorn fell out of my grasp, tumbling away.

In a blurr I saw the ceiling, was pressed into the mans’ shirt- and saw the two other men stay behind.

Something snapped in me. They were going to hurt Kayla. Innocent, stupid Kayla. My rage boiled over.

I heard myself screaming, and began kicking. I kicked the man who was carrying me in the face. I bit his hand. He did not slow. The exit sign flashed above us, and we were darting down the stairs.

I thrashed, but was over his shoulder now. The second man was in tow, and now we were bursting out the stairs into fresh air.

In the sprint across the flimsy grass, I screamed for all I was worth. I thrashed, bit wildly and gouged my fingers into eyes. The man stumbled. I was thrown and landed in a tumble and scrape on the asphalt.

I was on my feet, the world reeling into sharp focus. There was the man before me clutching his bloody face, another marching towards me, and two more coming out of the building.

Then, to the left, observing, the man in the green cloak.

I drew my keys from my pocket and gripped them tight. I was going to take out eyes. I was burning with my success, was powerful in my rage.

“I’m going to make sure you can’t hurt anyone else!” I heard myself declare. In a rush my vigilante streak was coming out. I’d get them for what they had done to mother. I’d get them so bad.

The man in green was walking over, just slightly faster than the other men. “Get behind me,” I heard him say as he stepped between me and them.

I hissed between my teeth, jumping to the side just in time to see the men collide.

The first man threw a punch, and the green-cloaked intruder dodged, then punched the first in the gut.

I gaped as the henchman doubled over. I was unhurt. The figment of my imagination was… fighting? I stood there and watched as the medieval man threw punches and my kidnappers landed on the asphalt.

Then, he turned to the man who was clutching his face. Bloody and still covering his face with a hand, the wounded man tottered up.

I screamed. “Kill him!”

The green cloaked man did not. Instead he stood back as the wounded man tottered towards the car. He was going to get away!

With a yell, I lunged forward, keys in hand like a knife. The wounded man grabbed my wrist and threw me at the car. I slammed against the back door. Hands gripped at me, and I was yanked forward and back, jolted between the two men who wrestled for me.

“Let her go!” growled the medieval man, and the henchman gave up. With a shrug he threw me towards the other, and jumped into the car. With a rev of the motor, he backed up the car out of the parking spot. I was pulled back and away, turned into the folds of the green cloak. In the distance, I heard the car driving away.

I squirmed and was let go. Stepping back in a stumble, I looked up at my rescuer. He was frowning down at me.

“You’re real!” I declared.

He paused. My gaze jumped from him to the henchmen on the asphalt. Where were my keys? Right there, where the car had been. I grabbed them up and –

“What are you doing?” the man asked, grabbing my shoulder to stop me.

I wrestled myself free only to be grabbed again. “They’re unconscious!” he insisted. “Don’t attack them!”

I wrestled, but he held me back by the scruff of my collar. I was almost out of my jacket when I heard the wailing of a siren. Security!

Then, I fell forward so suddenly that I hit the ground on my hands and knees. I looked up – and the man in green had vanished.

Lage’s Game ~ Chapter Four, Part Two

I woke up in the hospital. There was white all around me, the curtain was drawn around my bed, and there were voices in the distance. Uncle’s voice.

I looked myself over. A tube in my arm, bruises all over my arms and ugly hospital gown on me, but I was okay. I felt all my limbs.

“You’re alright,” a voice said from beside me.

I startled, and stared at the man who had seemingly appeared. Or had I not noticed him?

It was him. The white man in the green cloak and medieval clothing. He smiled thinly at me. “You’re going to be fine,” he said with a slight nod of the head.

I wanted to scream, but I was frozen. The man sighed like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Hands clasped before himself, he leaned forward.

“You ate the card,” he said calmly.

I stared, trembles beginning to run all over my body.

“You’ve brought the worlds into a collision,” he said in that same calm tone.

I took in a breath to scream- but wasn’t able to put it out. I just choked on the air and stared, wide-eyed.

He rose to his feet. “Going home is going to be hard. But,” he drew my unicorn from under his arm and held it out to me. “I think we can work through that.”

I screamed. He winced, taking the unicorn back as he covered one ear with a hand.

The curtain was swept back. Nurses appeared, uncle and Kayla in tow. But as I gasped and they asked whatever the matter was, the green man had disappeared. He was gone – unicorn with him.

///

I wanted to go to my home. Kayla said I could, but Uncle didn’t think it would be wise. “I need to go get the school papers,” Kayla fibbed, as if she couldn’t get them any other way. “Is there anything you want from the house?”

I shook my head, crossing my arms over my chest. I wanted my unicorn. I wanted- too much. I shouldn’t be greedy.

Now I was in Uncle’s living room. The cousins were at football and uncle had taken a break from me to go with them, leaving Wanda and Kayla with me. Kayla seemed to think getting out would do me good, Wanda wanted me to eat supper in my pajamas and just sleep.

Kayla was saying something, but I turned on the TV, turning the volume up. Kayla pressed her lips together and heaved a sigh. It reminded me of the one the man in green had done. Where was he? How come no one saw him?

“Where’s my unicorn?” I asked, hoping there was some logical answer.

“I don’t know,” said Kayla softly as she rose to her feet. “Listen -”

I looked pointedly at the TV. No listen.

Kayla turned to Wanda. “Need anything? Want anything?” she asked.

“No,” Wanda said with a thankful smile, shaking her head.

So Kayla left. After a few moments of TV drama, Wanda rose and took the remote control from me. She dialed the volume down. “Hun,” she said. “We’re all just trying to help.”

I took up a pillow and hugged it to my chest. My eyes stayed glued to the screen. On it, housewives were debating over something. They were about to fight.

Wanda cleared her throat. “We’ve spoken to the police.”

“We told them you were attacked and they think -” she paused. I stared at the TV. “If there’s anything you can tell them,” she said “It might help.”

I sniffled, but the housewives were throwing hands up and having tantrums.

“The case is – it seems,” she paused and looked at me with that focused adult look. “Your father may have gotten into gang troubles.”

The words crashed over my world. Gang troubles? No. Not father. It was the board game. How come no one would believe it? Because I hadn’t told me. But-

I looked at her. She came into sharp focus- and I saw something shift behind her.

The man was there. Green, brown, and a blonde mass on top.

I froze. My skin turned to a fine sheen of ice.

“Listen,” Wanda was leaning towards me. “If there’s anything you remember that you thought was strange, anything identifying about the men who attacked you-”

Behind her, the man drew out my unicorn and set it on a bookshelf. With a nod at me, he turned and walked away into the kitchen.

Wanda came sharply into focus again. She was saying something, but I couldn’t understand what.

I sat back, curling into myself. The world was shaking around me.

I wrapped my arms around myself, and the world sunk into black.

I came to with the smell of coffee and donuts. Kayla was mopping my forehead with a cold cloth that was too wet, droplets running over my head. Wanda was sitting on a couch, coffee in hand and looking dejected.

“Hey!” Kayla said in a too-cheerful tone as I sat up. There was an open box of donuts on the coffee table.

I looked around. Where was the man? And there he was, sitting in the stairwell, arms crossed and watching me. Again, he just nodded.

It sunk into me like a crashing wave, what had earlier shaken my world. He wasn’t real. He didn’t exist. I had been wrong.

I stared at him, determined to will him away. If he was a figment of my imagination, I could destroy him.

Kayla was saying something about my school exams and having exemptions. I would have to see a doctor. I stared at the man. He watched me back with a frown.

“Did you hear me?” Kayla put a hand on my shoulder.

“No,” I said harshly. I was distracted by the man. By the unicorn that was now on the shelf. By everything in this horrid world.

“Okay, well, you rest,” Kayla said with a teary smile. “You just -”

I got up and marched out of the house. Barefoot I went out the front of the house and marched into the grassy center. I sat down on the bench, head hanging down. Then I told myself not to slouch and straightened. The man in green was walking out of the house towards me.

“Go away,” I hissed between my teeth. “Go, away.”

He arrived to just before me. Much like my cousins had, he crouched down before me. Unlike them, he didn’t just crouch, instead sinking down onto one knee like a knight in mythology.

“I’ll follow you,” he said, in that way that said he meant every of those three words.

I stared at him. “Go, away.” Because he didn’t exist. He was my mind reacting to trauma. He was just me freaking out. “Get- gone.”

Frowning, he rose to his feet.

From way back at the house, Wanda came out in her shoes. I shifted my focus back to the man – but he was gone.

“You can’t stay out here,” said Wanda as she reached me, arms crossed against the cold.

I hung my head and stared at our feet.