Let me start off by saying I'm not crazy. Or at least I don't think I am. But someone keeps coming in my room. I don't know who it is, but they keepmoving things around. For example, a note that my mom once wrote me, which I always keep in my jewellery box, was on my dresser this morning. My jewellery box was open. 

You may think, "Oh, you must have just forgotten that you moved it", but you don't understand. I'm forgetful at times, yes. Like, once I forgot that it was Christmas morning. So I woke up and walked downstairs to get some breakfast, and saw a bunch of presents downstairs. I checked the calender, and it actually was Christmas. I felt pretty stupid, I mean, who forgets about Christmas?But Ilaughed it off, and everything was fine.

But this is different. It's not fine this time. That letter is too important to forget about. It's much more important than any holiday, because it holds a bunch of secrets. Secrets my mom told me. Secrets I'll keep between me and her to the day I die. Screts from her past, that she told me in order to convince me that I am not alone.

In fact, it's one of the few things that keeps me from thinking I'm crazy. 

I texted my mom, but she says that no one's been in my room. Then who moved my note? My books were also moved around, but I'd be able to believe I'd moved them and forgotten about them.They're not important.

Maybe it's the person who was in my Math class yesterday. It was the first day, and the teacher was just repeating the same first-day-back lecture that 4 other teachers had already given me. So, I propped my head on my hand. And I dozed off.

Well, I think I fell asleep. I'd blink, and the lecture the teacher was giving would not make sense. It was like skipping ahead a dozen pages in a novel you really didn't feel like reading anyways. 

But anyways, I'd blink, and there would be a man to the side of the classroom. He didn't talk, he was just curled up in a ball. I'd stare at him, but he would just stay there, still as stone, in the fetal position. I'd blink again though, and he wouldn't be there anymore. The place he was curled up in was just a bunch of boxes andbooks piled against the wall. 

It's times like this where I wonder if I might be crazy. 

Maybe the man from Math class is the one moving stuff around in my room. I mean, I have the suspicion that someone is following me. I'll walk through the halls at school, and someone will call my name. I look around, but no one will be there.

That would actually explain a lot. Or I might just be crazy.

Not like it matters anyways. Whether he's real or not, that makes no difference. He's real to me. He haunts my dreams, makes them nightmares. Taunts me in my head all day, says people will kill me, and I have to run away. Tells me to kill myself before they have the chance. 

Maybe I am losing it. But I know he's real. Whether he's a separate person, or if he's me, he's a cruel, horrible person. He has to go. I have to keep him from hurting other people. I need to stop him, before he hurts anyone else.

Maybe next time, he won't just sit in my Math class, or move notes around. Maybe he'll hurt my friends, or tell me to hurt them. Maybe he'll never leave, unless I make him leave.

Now I know what I have to do. I have to end this game. I have to end his life. So he doesn't make me crazy. 

I have to end me. Then, he'll be gone. Then, they'll know. They'll all know he is gone. 

Maybe, if I'm gone, they'll read this, and know he got me, but not before I got him. Maybe they'll know I did something right, that I saved them.

Then, they'll know I wasn't crazy.

That they were the crazy ones all along.