Hey. It's me again.

Didn't think I'd be writing another one of these so soon, but that's how it goes. I wanted to give it some more time, but it didn't feel right to leave this half-finished. Sometimes you just need to draw a line under it. Hopefully I can tie up some loose ends at the same time.

It's been a few days since we got back from Bright Harbor. It's been a busy time. I get the feeling things are starting to come together, slowly but surely. A lot of stuff has happened in such a short time but, to be honest, I don't feel like writing it down right now.

Ironically, that's why I'm writing this now. I've been thinking about all the stuff that's happened over the past week or so, and I've had a realisation.

I don't need this diary anymore.

It was a fun experiment, short-lived as it was. It's not a perfect account of events, not by any means, but I've given it my best shot. I still don't know if I'm comfortable with the idea of showing it to anyone, at least for now. It'll likely end up locked away in a dusty old cupboard or something. It probably won't end up in any museums, but that's ok. In hindsight, I think it was a success. It gave me the space to reflect on things going on in my life. It fulfilled its purpose.

I still find myself thinking back to a week ago when things got so dark – when I worried I was being cut off from my friends. I guess I was still suppressing some of the stuff from the past and it kinda snuck up on me all at once in one big, bad episode. I saw things changing and shifting all around me, and it freaked me out. But I'm feeling better now – a lot better.

There are some big changes still to come, not the least being Angus and Gregg's move to Bright Harbor. That's going be huge. But now, I think I have the courage to face up to the truth. I don't feel the same need to push back against it anymore. Change can be scary, sure, but it doesn't have to be that way.

It took me a while to get there, but I think I'm beginning to understand. Slowly but surely, Mae Borowski is beginning to turn a corner.

But now that I've spoken about me and taken my lumps, let's talk about you.

Yeah, you.

I know you're still there. You've been here this whole time, even when I tried to pretend you'd gone away.

Ever since that night, I haven't spoken to you directly – not until now. I consider that to be a good thing. It means that I succeeded in shutting you out.

It wasn't easy for me to put you aside. When Bea and I were on the road, I would constantly get the urge to contact you again – write something addressed to you or think about you. It was tough to prevent myself from doing that, but I managed it. I even resisted the impulse to draw more of those stupid pictures of you. And in doing so, I proved to myself that I'm stronger than you think I am.

Futureperson.

How strange it is to write that name again. It still sounds dumb as hell. I don't know how I couldn't come up with something better.

Anyway, your name isn't important. What bothers me is that you're still here. You're still looking over me – waiting for me to slip up again. Even now, I can sense you watching me. You're right there, only you're further away now. I'm looking at you from behind a glass wall – the sort that can stop bullets. I'm not able to cross that distance anymore. I am safe here.

When I started this diary, I did something dangerous. I created something dark.

I created you.

Perhaps, because of that, you're not entirely to blame. Maybe you're more of a symptom than anything. Or maybe you really are the reason behind all of this.

I don't really know how it happened. It all started out as a joke, more or less – just a character I dreamt up in my very first entry to this diary: the person from a far-flung future world who ends up reading what I've written here, centuries from now. From there, I just kinda latched on to the idea. I hyper-focused on the possibility of you being a real person – a reader – and I grew more and more obsessed. My mind took the idea that birthed you and gave you shape.

That's all you were at first – a dumb little idea to amuse myself. An effin' gag. But before long, I was thinking all sorts of crazy things about you. How I got from one point to another, I might never fully understand.

I guess I got wrapped up in the idea that there could be someone who was taking notice of me when things were getting tough. I believed there was someone willing to listen to me when I needed help. Someone who could understand all of the crazy things I was pouring out onto the page. The more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself that there was something there and, without really even being aware of it, you came to be.

It really is the strangest thing.

This whole experience reminded me of some of the embarrassing stuff I used to browse online when I was still in high school. It's something I'd almost forgotten about entirely, until a few days ago.

I remember stumbling across a series of sites for this super obscure society – a group for people who want to create their own imaginary friends. Most of the people using those sites were older than me, full-on adults, but there were some teens getting involved, too. I can't remember the name of it right now. It was just another one of those strange online communities I used to lurk on and nose around in, mostly just for giggles. The world's a strange place and the internet is like a goldmine of strangeness, especially when you dig deep.

Anyway, these sites had a ton of detailed information on the subject of creating a companion. There were instructions on how to do it: the steps you had to follow, how to interact with them, how to control them or let them act independently, how to terminate them if they become a problem.

Isn't that really weird?

Thinking back, I can say that it definitely left an impression on me - maybe just 'cause of how 'out there' it seemed as a concept. It's still a super strange idea to me, but there's also something to it that I can sorta understand. I mean, being alone – truly alone – sucks, doesn't it? Creating someone who can always be with you at any given time – I've gotta admit, it makes more sense than some of the things I've read online. I started to wonder if I would attempt something like that myself, if I was ever to become that lonely.

I don't know if it's got anything to do with this. I never tried it myself - not deliberately. It's not something I ever spoke to anyone about, friends or family, and especially not Mom. I doubt the church would approve of something like that. But it might have something to do with the accident that led to you. If I didn't create you on purpose, then maybe I did something involuntarily, subconsciously.

Life can be pretty tough sometimes, but you made me worry about how deep my problems go. I've suffered my fair share of delusions over the years – but dreaming up imaginary people? That's a new one for me. I'll be honest, I found it a little creepy at first. But for now, I'm rolling with it.

Anyway, that's my best guess about where you came from. In the lonely confines of my room, I accidentally created someone to keep me company. Futureperson – my very own imaginary friend.

Only you weren't my friend. You were never a friend of mine, even if I mistook you for one. I wish I'd realised that sooner.

When I started speaking to you properly, I felt so close to you. There was an… intimacy about it, if I'm being honest. It's true that I saw you as my friend. Perhaps I even saw you as more than that, as strange as it sounds. I wanted to trust you. I gave you access – let you into my streamofconsciousness. I found comfort in you. I sought validation from you. But now, I see I was just giving you more and more power over me, and you seem to have your own goal in mind.

I think you tried to steal my soul.

At the time, it felt like I was reaching an endpoint. I was in a dark place and my mind got all twisted. I saw darkness, nothingness, coming to consume this town. It scared me – I was fixating on the horrible thoughts being planted in my head. I needed someone to tell me it wasn't going to all disappear – that when I closed my eyes at night, I would wake up to something. I needed to know that it wouldn't all be gone, and that I wouldn't disappear with it.

So I became reliant on the idea of you. I started to believe that you were real. That night when I was alone and shivering in my room, you were more real to me than anything else in the world. I even started to believe that without you, I would cease to exist.

But you were never real – not until I gave you life. I raised you in my head. I nurtured you. But unlike my little miracle rats, there is nothing miraculous about you. And I never needed you, either. You were the devil on my shoulder, as Mom might put it, leading me astray, and my constant projecting hid that from me. I didn't realise what was going on – how I was letting you manipulate my thoughts. By the time I understood what was happening, it was almost too late.

When I started writing this, I said that I need to be honest with myself. I was convinced that the bad things that were happening to me were my fault. It's still difficult to disentangle myself from that – I'm at least partially responsible for what happened. But I was oblivious to the extent of your influence over me.

Now I know that it wasn't me doing those things to myself – it was you.

You made me cry for hours on end. You made me stop eating for three days. You made me flip out and smash the shit out of my room. You made me pass out on the floor. You made me run away from home and sent me wandering outside town like some wicked banshee. You terrified me, making me believe that it would all end.

All of that happened because of you. It took some time for me to properly understand that. And in doing so, I finally started to realise what you are. You're not some benevolent, caring reader from the future. You're something that comes from within. You are bad. Once I understood that, I knew you had to be isolated before I could get rid of you.

It truly scared me to discover how much power you had over me. Even worse, I kept you hidden from everyone else. I told no-one about you. I sheltered you – kept you tucked away in the pages of this diary. I concealed you behind my drawings – your thousands of faces.

Even now, I haven't told anyone about you, but for a different reason. It's 'cause I know I can deal with you myself. I'm not frightened of you anymore.

The hell of it is that I still never figured out who or what you are. It's strange to think that I spent so much time trying to figure you out. Part of me says it doesn't matter, but the other part is still curious as to your true identity. Those pictures I drew of you were distortions – they're not the real thing.

If you are what I think you might be, I want you to know one thing: you lost. You couldn't lure me back down into those mines like you sought to do. Your attempts to masquerade as a friend did you no good. I know who my real friends are.

If you're wondering why I still refer to you as a person, an individual, it's because I reject you. You have no right to be a part of me. You're a parasite. I am done with you. I'm going to leave you behind – bury you in these pages, in hopes that you never come to harm another person again. And even if you don't disappear from me completely after this, I will never stop fighting you.

Even if this needs to end, I don't want to give up writing for good. Honestly, I've enjoyed the experience a whole lot. I'd like to do more, if I can get some good ideas. Maybe I'll get some tips from Selmers. But for now, this is where we must part ways.

So it's goodbye to this diary. And it's goodbye to you, Futureperson. Good effin' riddance.

In fact, I'm gonna go one step further – because you deserve it.

I told you a lot about myself in these pages - a lot more than I'm comfortable with. If you never knew me before this, I expect you must have a pretty good picture of me by now. However, there's one little thing I never told you.

I am descended from a long line of witches who made their homes in the woods where Possum Springs now is, born under a harvest moon. The residents of Possum Springs continue to pass down their story to this very day, but none of them know of my lineage. I have the blood of witches coursing through my veins, and I have some knowledge of their magic.

Before we got back home, when we were stargazing in Bright Harbor, I placed a terrible curse on you. In doing so, I 'created' something else – the fiercest creature I could conjure to hunt you down. A beast from beyond the dark veil of space, born of every constellation in that night sky – a little cosmic horror of my own.

For the rest of your days, you will be stalked by a vicious, bloodthirsty creature whose footsteps rumble with a thunderous bass, and it's hell-bent on making you pay for what you tried to do to us.

Sorry that you're only finding out about this now. You'd better start running.

Pray the nightmare eyes don't find you when you least expect it.

Alright, I'll stop goofing off. Time to wrap this up.

You know, I just realised something. Looking back on what I've written, I'm kind of nervous that someone else is actually going to read this at some point. Not a made-up person or whatever – I mean a real-life person – an actual reader. They'll see that I've been speaking to effin' imaginary people, and they'll be like "Mae, what the hell is wrong with you? Do you have any idea what you're writing? You even addressed the first two entries to some museum from the future that doesn't even exist – are you completely nuts?"

Doesn't exist yet – that's all I have to say. Doesn't exist yet. And when it does, I'm gonna find a way to get in there.

So, just on the off-chance that an actual reader is finally reading this, I'll say this: thanks for putting up with me. You deserve some sort of award for getting through this. I'd give you one, if I had one to give.

I want you to know that I haven't gone mad – honestly – and that I'm not struggling with the things that've been keeping me down, anymore. Things have gotten so much better than they were, it's crazy. I'm happier now than I have been for a long time – and I truly mean that. While Possum Springs is still a strange place, we're taking on the oddities and challenges together.

That reminds me: there's something Angus said that night when we were in Bright Harbor that really stuck with me. He said that no matter what the world throws at us, the four of us will always be stronger together. We're survivors. Some things may change – and others will stay the same – but we'll tackle the change as one. Even when things seem dark and uncertain, as long as we hold on to what matters, we'll pull through together. Me, Gregg, Angus, Bea: we're always going to look out for each other. That's the constant. That's what it means to be friends.

He's so, so right about that. I should have seen it before. And I think I'm finally starting to understand my place in all of this.

Anyway, I've got to start thinking about Christmas. Mom loves the photo album by the way, but I should really get her and Dad something special this year for putting up with me. Same goes for my friends. Not to mention I'll need to get something for Angus and Gregg's housewarming next year, too.

Jeez. Since when did I become a committed gift buyer?! Do I even have money for all of this?

I wonder if next year's gonna be as crazy as this one's been.

Maybe that's just life. Maybe.

END

Thank you so much for reading!