So I have a houseguest. It's unique. There's a giant black van parked down the street from the house, he took off his jacket and I could see that yes there were guns, and when he came back this morning from making a new friend he was covered in blood and mentioned that his shoulder had been dislocated. So not the kind of person one usually expects to come visit.
And yet I feel almost safe. It's silly really. I know that his guns aren't going to do shit to save me, that if my favorite stalker decides that tonight's the night he wants me to go, bullets aren't going to help me one bit. But I'll take any form of comfort lately, even if it is false.
The first night he got here, after we said our good night's, I woke up hearing what I've started thinking of as the suicide music. The longer I try to pretend it isn't there, the worse it gets. It's becoming a normal night for me sadly. Wake up, hear music, sit in window, watch faceless, spend night clawing at my own skin to keep myself from going outside to it, eventually pass out in window despite trying everything possible not to. On the plus side, the crystals still seem to be keeping me from going walking in my sleep. They just don't seem to have the same beneficial effect on my conscious mind.
Anyway, when I had my normal wake up call happen on his first night here, I tried to be quiet, but he woke up anyway. And he sat with me the whole night while we watched it watch us. And when I fell asleep, he must have carried me up to my bed. It was nice change waking up there rather then waking up in my window with a stiff neck like I've been doing. He's very much a gentleman, the kind of guy that doesn't seem to exist anymore. All though I suppose that must be rather at odds with the guns and blood.
There was a bad spot today. I know that I've hinted here and there that I had a rather unpleasant romantic past. Well that past came back to haunt me today in the form of my old engagement ring showing up on my front steps. Poor Mr. Spender brought it in while I was still sleeping, thinking it was a gift someone had left for me, which isn't entirely untrue. It was a gift. A completely unwanted gift, but a gift. Imagine my heart attack when I woke up and thought my ex had somehow broken in while I was asleep and alone in the house to leave it for me. That was a pretty unpleasant freak out.
He is a surprisingly soothing person to be around. He was able to calm me down and I'm not sure where he put the ring, but I trust that its somewhere I won't run across it randomly. Here's hoping at least.