Lonely

Without Roma there is no one to talk to, but I don't think I'm alone anymore. You know that feeling like... something is watching you or whatever? Yeah, that's it.

Gone

Checked on Roma today. He's gone. His apartment is empty... but there's something strange about it. Like nothing was moved, it was just... not there to begin with.

I don't speak Russian.

Around 1am last night there was a knock on the door. Roman was there. he grabbed my hand and shoved a crinkled piece of paper into it, ranting in Russian. I told him ENGLISH, Roma! But he didn't hear me. The paper was ... crreepy.

Woods

Thought something moved in the woods on my way home. Probbably a deer, but it scared me. I keep thinking about Roman's story.

Roman

Roman (my neighbor) introduced himself today. Some of my mail was in his box and he brought it to me. I invited him in for tea. He's very nice. Talked about when he lived in Moscow when I told him I was intterested in Russia. He told me some old stories about monsters, when I asked him about the woods. He left after that.

The stories were unnerving.

Neighbor

My neighbor across the hall is a strange guy. I can't pinnpoint anything about him aside from the fact that he's Russian. The only reason I know this is when he dropped some groceries in the hall and I helped him pick it up, he said "Спасибо" ... I responded with "Пожалуйста", now everytime I see him it's "Привет", thats about my level in fluency in russian, but it seems to work.

I called him strange. I should explain. we live on the second landing, near A wooded area. Half the street is buildings, and the other side is woods. I see him all the time in the landing window that sits between our apartments, staring at the trees. He looks so scared when he stares at them.

A Friend

There's a stray by my apartment. She chills by the end of the street, follows me home after work. It's adorable. I give her water and cat treats.

I named her Purrciful.

Freedom

Today I am enjoying some of the small freedoms I never got to before. I bought groceries without criticism for the helath food I bought (who makes fun of Kashi WTF) and cooked food without being botthered.

Make all the samn sexist jokes you like, my mother was damn protective of that kitchen.

I burned the food. Had to eat cereal. Next time, stir fry, next time.

His/tory

I was born in Canada, in a beautiful area near the sea. It's a great place to raise kids... or was, in the 80's and 90's. We were a small family in a shitty basement apartment. Me, my father and mother, and the family dog. My childhood was fairly normal (a few things stand out in my miind, like an incident in the woods near my cousins', but that's a story for another day). I was kind of a strange kid, I didn't like to be around the other kids, preferring books and animals to other people. That isn't that strange... lots of people were (and are) that way.

I never grew out of it, and ended up as a super-acheiver in elementary and part of middle school. My parents (especially my mother) were thrilled by this. She was too thrilled, I think.

By Highschool, my grades were falling, along with me, into a deep depression- not the typical "Woe is me, I am a teenager" bullshit, but clinical depression. Instead of trying to help me, my mother scolded and humiliated me, about everything, even my few friends.

So I became more and more of a loner and spen more and more time on the internet. It was my refuge online. I was praised for my wit, my various "talents" (art, writing... there's always someone worse than you who will think you're skilled)

Of course, when I graduated and found fwork the hurt abuse and depression didn't go away. They got worse and worse until I came to this- move out and don't look back.

Introduction

My name is Avery, I am 22 and live on my own- no roommate, nothing. This is the most recent development in my life.

I decided to move out from my parent's house despite some financial issues for a reason i will be plain about. My mother was verybally and emotionally abusive. That's why I'm writing a blog... so as to share my story and the changes in my life. Maybe it will help other victims, maybe it will just ease my mind. I don't know. Either way, thanks for reading... or maybe "I'm sorry". I will try not to let this be much of a sob story