I'm back in my apartment. It's exactly how I left it; an ordered mess.
Everything is in its place, but nothing feels right. It feels like the entire apartment is wrong. Feels wrong. It doesn't feel like home anymore, and it doesn't feel like I'll be spending very long here anyways.
Let's face it: The Wooden Girl is going to have me, no matter what. There's nothing I can do about it. Nothing. I'll probably be taken in the morning. The strings left marks and they burn with her anger; and that anger reminds me of her, and the promise that she will have me, sooner or later.
Just take me. I'm leaving the door unlocked. Take me and don't give me back.
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