Daniel's still out of it.
Alice is still hiding in my closet.
I'm still going to therapy. And I swear my therapist has no idea what she's doing, because we have been getting nowhere. Why are we doing psychoanalysis for an anxiety disorder? I always had behavior therapy for this shit. Why change that? No, instead I'm sitting around talking about how I feel. Screw this shit. I'm asking my parents to switch therapists. Or get me out of treatment altogether. I do not have time for this.
Saw Slender outside last night. Not staring at the house, walking down the street. Like he had somewhere else to be. Actually, walking is the wrong word. He sort of...glides. It's freaky.
Stay safe you guys.