Mysterious ManHe is watching me from the corner of my room again. I know he is watching me - I can see what his eyes see. He watches for infinitely long periods of time, but I do not know why. I fear that he wants to devour me, but that has not happened yet. I try to stay awake, I do not want to waken inside his acidy innards, dissolving slowly.
The room looks so foreign from that corner, it seems darker and bigger and more silent. I know that if I went over there I would have no control and he would capture me, but if he came over here, he could not harm me. Yet he watches me with infuriating indifference - there is no lust or desire or insecurity about being here.
I do not know when he first appeared; the time when my room was my own seems so distant. Nor do I remember when I started to see from his eyes or how it made me feel. Does he know that he shares his vision? Does he see from my eyes?
I see myself roll over to face away from him. I shut my eyes tightly, but the image is still there imprinted in the back of my mind. Why is my mind behind his eyes? Perhaps it is to protect me, so that if he did come over -ready to eat me- I would already know.
He sits and sits and sits, never moving. I stroke the cold length of the scissors, leap up and rush with them at his heart. Tonight I will devour him, but I cannot see.