This Is What You Get

If you break your ribs, it hurts to breathe.  I can't sleep worth a damn without medication.  The dreams...they don't help.  Without the medication, the memories of the city, being pulled through it...I wake up in a cold sweat.  The medication doesn't stop the dreams, though.  It just stops me from waking up easily.  Blurred images of campus, of Operator symbols.  Like my brain is mocking me for not being able to keep an eye on the Roommate.
Meanwhile, I've been spending time going between bed and the couch.  Ribs are slowly getting better.  Totally new weird things going on.  It scared the hell out of me at first...some of my stuff is being moved.  It's not the way I remember it, and I thought for a second I'd wandered through the wrong Door.  Nope.  Apparently I have little housecleaning goblins.
Because housecleaning goblins are a better thought than the Nightlanders.  They're associated with the City, so it's not a surprise if they finally found me.  I haven't seen any, though.  The electrical system in the apartment isn't great, so the lights have been flickering a bit all year.
Unless they're why the lights have been flickering all year.  Have I managed to completely miss a Nightlander infestation in my own apartment?  I'm completely unqualified for this shit.

His Voice Is Like A Fridge

Michael's still around, somewhere.  I got an email from him.

What the hell did you try to warn me about?  What do you know about Dr. Ellison's research?  If you're still there, stay away from Agent Bentham, whoever he's pretending to work for.  I can tell you what happened, but I want to know it's you answering this.  Tell me about the front cover of the notebook you brought me.  

I don't remember an Agent Bentham.  The only person I saw that wasn't a cop was the guy in the other room they kept consulting with.  One-way mirrors aren't all that useful if the lights in the interrogation room keep flickering.  Now I have the choice of looking into this guy's existence, or keeping my nose out of it.  Maybe I'll decide once Michael answers again.

Gonna End Up A Big Ol' Pile O' Them Bones

Been busy.  Osteology quiz, so spending my free time studying instead of bugging Math TAs.  Have left small squares of electrical tape out of normal line of sight on the doors I'm supposed to pass through on the way to class.  Useful so far, learning the layout, counting steps.  Still a creepy building.  There's a strange noise in the halls when I'm alone, like wind, but not quite.  The only word that really describes it is "susurrus," something I had to dig from the depths of my vocabulary.

Two pieces of dubiously good news.  First is that I got a look at the summer dormitory telephone listing, found the number for the roommate of last year's probable Slender Man victim.  Second one, take a look:

Yellow Chalk is back.  On the upside, it's someone I might be able to help, or learn from.  The downside is that where there's a runner, there's almost always something to run from.  Remembering the trouble that none of us can get away from really brightens the fuck out of my day.

I'm Not Sick, But I'm Not Well

Nothing left behind by the class before us today.  I checked, apparently the class is one of those Math for Humanities Majors type of courses.  I doubt any of those guys even know half the symbols in the notebook, much less the math.  And if it does belong to one of them, it's weird enough to look into.  Maybe the TA?  They usually sit in front of the class, so it would be the right desk.

On the "Sarcastic Observer is an obsessive-compulsive weirdo" front, I've been keeping track of the layout of the building, and nothing seems to be added or missing yet.  Okay, just to step back and recognize that I know how crazy I am...I am keeping an eye on a building, in case it makes any sudden moves.  Maybe psychological counseling actually is a thing that I should do.

Not yet.  If I end up talking about the source of my paranoia, I'll look delusional, or schizophrenic.  If the City is out to get me, I'm not crazy to keep an eye out for it.  And the Door I found on campus was on the same building that I'm in now.  Not sure if it matters.  I think I'll have to take some time after class tomorrow, give the halls a proper going-over.

Is This A Test? It Has To Be

New building.  Phobia of getting lost, and of unknown doors.  BIG FUCKING FUN, LET ME TELL YOU.  Turns out we got moved to the math department for a bigger room, and that's why we're not in any of my usual places on campus.  So I'm wandering small hallways, counting doors.  Doesn't help that it's an old building with weird acoustics.  Navigating the place has me so paranoid that I keep thinking I spot people behind me in mirrors or windows.  When I look straight at it, there's nothing there, though.  It's worse than yesterday, but maybe once I learn the place I'll get better.  Otherwise I'm going to have to see the campus shrink, or something.
Speaking of creepy, I found a notebook under my desk.  Turned it in to the department office.  Looks like mostly higher mathematics, but written on the back was "THEY ARE NOT MISTAKES, THEY ARE GATES"