My pet rock is gaslighting me
Do you ever get that feeling that someone’s wishing ill on you? Like everything about their being wants to take you down? And I'm not talking about people. No– people are easy, malleable. I'm talking about something much more sinister, my pet rock. You remember how I got him? I was at work, and that little kid slipped me something. I thought it was a piece of gum, but it was actually Gerald; thats what I named him. What? What's with that face? Don't judge me; he’s so low-maintenance, and I never have to feed him, unlike my ex. But he started doing these weird things… I can't even explain it. Like, for instance, the other day I couldn't find my phone for the life of me. I turned my whole apartment upside down, and nothing. I even found that wristband from the concert we did Molly at, but no phone. Where do I find it? On my nightstand next to my rock. It's like Gerald was flaunting it in my face that he found it before me, but I just wrote it off as a coincidence.
I mean, how could my rock steal my phone? Until I get a text from Brian, the guy I was supposed to go on a date with, saying that he’s sorry I can’t go out next week, and should reschedule. I never cancelled our date. So I looked at our text thread, and there’s a text from me, cancelling our date. Like… I'm sorry, but did my rock just text someone? Whatever, I tried not to think too much about it until the next day when I woke up to Gerald staring at me from my windowsill. I only put him there on sunny days so he can soak up that vitamin D, so there’s no reason he should've been there while I slept. And I swear to god… he was looking at me funny.
Holy shit! How could I forget? I came home from work yesterday after an awful day at the yoga studio; my aura was all over the place, and the apartment smelled of the most delicious pasta dinner. I thought maybe Dave had surprised me with a little home-cooked meal, but he was at the gym, and I cleaned the whole kitchen before I left for work, so when I saw the sink was filled with dirty dishes, I was freaked out. I even screamed out of frustration and a little fear, because c’mon, what is going on? I wanted to see what food was taken out of the fridge to see what could have made this mess, and guess what’s sitting front and center? A big ‘ol plate of spaghetti with a post-it note on it with, get this, the name “Gerald”. He was sitting right next to it, too! Like, I’m sorry, is that only for you, Gerald? If that doesn't confirm my rock is terrorising me, then I don’t know what will.
Don’t laugh at me! It’s not a joke, I'm genuinely scared. Why is my rock sending texts, watching me sleep, and withholding my own food from me?? I talked to Sherry about this, my therapist, and do you know what she hits me with? “What do you think the rock represents?” Like girl, I’m not paying you to ask me questions, I want answers! Whatever, I guess I just have an evil pet rock. Do you think I made him evil? Like, I have bad energy or something, cause I was reading this article about spiritual energy transfers, and maybe I transferred some negative energy to Gerald, and he’s taking it out on me. I'm not crazy, though, I swear, but I do have to run. I got a Google Calendar alert for this snail mucus facial appointment in 20 minutes? I don’t remember booking that, but maybe it will help me de-stress from this whole Gerald fiasco.