Dear Diary:

Explain to me the shame in mentioning paranormal phenomena to outsiders. I’m bloody cursed, I’ll tell you: the moment I’ve accumulated a substantial amount of courage, suddenly I hesitate, and then cower entirely from mentioning the subject, as if acknowledging otherworldly substance was taboo.

Perhaps the underlying factor in my predicament derives from the fear of launching a distress signal, announcing my vulnerability and incompetence, as opposed to the fear of outsiders passing judgment on the preternatural events in my household.

I’ve propelled myself into deprivation, Diary, whereas guidance from professionals (i.e., my psychologist or a paranormal investigator) has become unobtainable, on account of withholding information pertaining to my experiences regarding the supernatural. It’s discomforting to recognize myself as the enemy, but furthermore, it’s unacceptable to become the culprit of emotional abuse, due to neglecting my psychological welfare.

All right already! Eventually I’ll tuck in my pride as neatly as I tuck in one of my collared shirts, and disclose the acutely distressing details to a qualified individual. But in the meantime, Diary, I’m going to remain tight-lipped in the presence of outsiders in reference to paranormal phenomena. Capiche?!