caia

photography, reflections, whatever comes around really.

[reflectingareas]

08/07/25. my living room. 66°.

i keep waking up on the couch today. small blackouts between each time.

this morning was the first. no blanket. half naked with lipstick smeared on my face and skin under my nails. lights all off. my neck hurt too, like i fell asleep in the wrong position and got cramps.

can’t remember yesterday past noon.. maybe one. there’s a gap. the kind i can feel significance in. like something was there, and then it was just gone.

anyways.

i’m not alone, i found.

there’s a cat here.

small, calico. big, yellow eyes. didnt look all that old.

it was sitting in the hallway when i woke up. staring at me like it had lived there forever, and i was the one out of place.

i’ve never owned a cat. i’ve always been allergic.

she was friendly, though. in the “i know you” way, brushing up on my legs like it’s known me forever. even followed me into the kitchen, sat on the counter and watched as i made myself tea. it didn’t blink much either, really.

i checked the doors after that. windows. all locked. no signs of breaking and entering either, so.. clearly it was here when i went to bed last night, whenever i did.

i opened the door later on. tried to shoo her out.

didn’t move. she just tilted her head like she was waiting for an actual command. i tried. fetch didn’t exactly work, though.

then, i just.. fed it tuna. felt right? like it was the right thing to do, i guess. it didn’t eat it until i looked away.

she’s sleeping in my room now, in my bed. if i try to leave her alone here, or move, i get that feeling in my ribs - like someone elses heartbeat. so. i guess i’m stuck with her now.

-c.

[doll-eyes-in-my-soul-deactivate]

How is the cat faring?

[reflectingareas]

she’s doing well now. still very sweet.

[reflectingareas]

08/07/25. my living room. 66°.

i keep waking up on the couch today. small blackouts between each time.

this morning was the first. no blanket. half naked with lipstick smeared on my face and skin under my nails. lights all off. my neck hurt too, like i fell asleep in the wrong position and got cramps.

can’t remember yesterday past noon.. maybe one. there’s a gap. the kind i can feel significance in. like something was there, and then it was just gone.

anyways.

i’m not alone, i found.

there’s a cat here.

small, calico. big, yellow eyes. didnt look all that old.

it was sitting in the hallway when i woke up. staring at me like it had lived there forever, and i was the one out of place.

i’ve never owned a cat. i’ve always been allergic.

she was friendly, though. in the “i know you” way, brushing up on my legs like it’s known me forever. even followed me into the kitchen, sat on the counter and watched as i made myself tea. it didn’t blink much either, really.

i checked the doors after that. windows. all locked. no signs of breaking and entering either, so.. clearly it was here when i went to bed last night, whenever i did.

i opened the door later on. tried to shoo her out.

didn’t move. she just tilted her head like she was waiting for an actual command. i tried. fetch didn’t exactly work, though.

then, i just.. fed it tuna. felt right? like it was the right thing to do, i guess. it didn’t eat it until i looked away.

she’s sleeping in my room now, in my bed. if i try to leave her alone here, or move, i get that feeling in my ribs - like someone elses heartbeat. so. i guess i’m stuck with her now.

-c.

[reflectingareas]

You Have Been Quiet.

sorry. been busy with life.

[doll-eyes-in-my-soul-deactivate]

What has you so busy?

[reflectingareas]

personal things. I’ll catch you up later?

[reflectingareas]

You Have Been Quiet.

sorry. been busy with life.

[reflectingareas]

07/27/25. my home.

i cleaned the living room.

it took hours. longer than it should have, because i kept stopping. standing still. forgetting what i was holding. forgetting where i was.

the rug’s back in place. floorboards all scrubbed raw. the towels are gone. but i swear the room still smells like rust.

the light in the hallway hasn’t stopped flickering either. i haven’t fixed it, though. i’m afraid that if i do, it’ll stop counting.

the blood is gone now. mostly.

there’s a faint pink hue at the edges of the baseboard, but i think i’m the only one who’ll notice.

i flipped the cushions. i lit a candle. i vacuumed. i even put on music for a little while. but it felt like i was trying to distract a ghost.

i’ve been trying to shake this feeling.

it isn’t fear. not quite.

it’s like my body knows that i’m not alone, even when i am. like there’s a second heartbeat tucked inside my ribcage.

i just can’t name it.

im writing this down so i dont forget today. so i dont start thinking the smear on the rug was tea.

ive locked all the doors again. i’ve shut the window. ive cleaned the knife.

i don’t know what i missed. the last journal entry was wrong, normal even though yesterday was anything but.

i read that again too. just once. too perfect, too human. but not my kind of human.

i don’t know anymore.

-c.

[reflectingareas]

07/26/25. My house.

I made tea this morning. same blend as before. the one with the “dull citrus note”.

not bright. just dry. Like something forgotten in the sunlight.

The windows are clean. no messages today. not on the glass. Not in the fog.

i left one open longer than i meant to. the wind came in quiet. like it didn’t want to wake Anything.

I tried to remember what my voice sounds like when i’m alone. i think it’s softer than i thought. or maybe just Farther Away.

the lights flickered again today. Not in the usual pattern. more like a breath held too long. Then released.

Someone knocked on the door around 3AM. i didn’t answer. i never do. not because I’m afraid. just because no one ever knocks twice.

I made tea again before bed. just to see if the taste would change.

it didn’t. but i left the cup on the sill. In case something needed it.

everything feels normal today. which means I’m not here. And neither are you.

-C.E.

[reflectingareas]

Blessed are those touched by greatness.

“touched by greatness” is a stretch, i think.

[reflectingareas]

07/25/25. i-95 and an empty highway.

i was in my car. i’m not sure how i got there, or here. driving in the left lane. i think, when i “came to”, i had just passed woodbridge township.

windshield was cracked. wipers moving on dry pane like it was trying to clean something invisible.

my hands were on the wheel. i don’t remember putting them there. i don’t remember where i’d been.

there was blood on my sleeves. i checked. dry. flaked off when i touched it.

a smear on the dashboard. a handprint on the inside of the passenger window. (not mine, i don’t think.)

the seat was warm too. not so warm that someone had just left. warm, in the way that hinted at the presence of someone who had been there quite a little bit ago.

something in me was quiet when i came to. pleased, maybe. just silence alongside the road.

i pulled off to the side quickly. turned off my headlights and just sat there.

then i started driving again. i kept my headlights off. i don’t know why, though. the dark didn’t scare me. but the emptiness in the rear view did.

i drove another ten minutes. no phone. no music. just the sound of tires over something wet.

i don’t know who i was an hour ago.

i don’t know what i said or what i touched, or what i left behind.

there’s a red stain on my drivers seat. i don’t know what it is. if it’s real.

there’s a name on my wrist in sharpie. not mine. not one i recognize.

im afraid to look it up.

after a bit, i pulled off near the reservoir. i took a detour and stopped on the side of 35, in amboy.

i took off my coat. folded it neatly before throwing it in. i don’t know how it keeps coming back to me. i just hope that this time does it in.

and i just watched it, down in the water. it floated for longer then it should have.

im home now, i think. it doesnt feel like home at the moment, but it is - i think.

locked the door three times, unplugged the lamps.

couldn’t stop thinking about the stain in the seat. it kept… changing shape. i didn’t check if it was breathing. i felt it, though. i think i still can.

i need to sleep. then think about it more in the morning. maybe look again. hopefully it’ll just be gone, and this will be a bad dream.

goodnight. (or good morning.)

-c.

[reflectingareas]

07/24/25. tunnel path, 2 miles off the trail. no stars tonight.

it was already there when i arrived.

i didn’t plan to go there tonight. i wasn’t following a signal, or a call, or a feeling. i was just.. there when i woke back up. my feet were muddy. happens more times than i like to think.

it was there. crouched at the far end of the tunnel, half in shadow. low and still. staring straight ahead. not at me, though. it was looking through me, almost?

i didn’t say anything this time.

i sat down across from it (him?). left a little space between us, the way you do with a stranger on a park bench. but… like, if that stranger was grieving something you don’t have a right to name.

the silence between us lasted a while. a long while. the type of silence that breaks up a scream and a whisper.

for the longest time, it didn’t move. but then it did. its head tilted, just slightly.

not predatory. not a threat. just… curious. like it was trying to recognize something in a dream it didn’t mean to have.

i think it wanted me to ask a question, like the last few times.

i didn’t, though. i just held out the jawbone it left me last time. wrapped up in cloth.

it didn’t take it.

but it let out one long breath through its nose. and the hair on my arms stood up like i’d just been told a secret in a language i didn’t speak.

it left after that. quiet. quick. like a memory retreating from being named.

when i stood, i saw a mark it left behind - a claw mark. scratched into the stone. not random. like a tally, almost. three in a row, one scratched out. what it’s counting, i don’t know. encounters? people it’s spared? people it should’ve?

i don’t think i’ll ever find out. not at this rate, anyways.

- c.