I’m not sure what is happening. There are pages of my journal that have been scratched out and I don’t remember doing it. I keep dreaming about being lost in a forest. I wake to find myself in my bed, my feet covered and dirt and scratches. Something is very wrong here. My husband keeps to his workshop and hasn’t spoken to me in weeks. My daughter seems oddly absent at times. The outside world has seemingly disappeared, the cities abandoned. Although I can hear people, I cannot see anyone. And I don’t think anyone can hear me.
