It's been a few days now. I've cooled off. I'm calmer. I'm... more rational.

But I'm here again.

And...

I suppose that says everything, doesn't it? I'm back. I'm not denying my earlier post, though I can barely bear to look at it.

I don't think I'm mad. I know what happened defies reality. But I don't think I'm mad. And you people, you readers - I suppose that you're just going to have to suspend your disbelief, you're just going to have to read this, and maybe, maybe, believe with me. So I'm not the only person. So I'm not alone.

Because I can't tell my parents. I can't tell my brothers. I can't tell my friends. They'd be afraid for me. They'd make me go to the GP.

But you, I can tell you. Because now, I feel like I'm just talking to a blank, beautiful white screen. I feel like I'm talking to myself.

But with the added benefit of listeners. Anonymous people who can share in this new reality of mine.

I wasn't entirely honest with you earlier. To be fair, I don't think I was exactly in command of all my higher faculties earlier. Seeing the laws of physics completely violated right in front of my eyes threw me off my game a little. I didn't... I didn't want to admit, to myself, or to you - that this has happened before. That this was...

It's not the first time.

I've always had a hyperactive imagination. I'm sure everyone's had moments when the world just, doesn't seem right. When it all seems fragile - as though there's something more there, waiting - something other. Right?

It's times like this that I wish Aiden was here. I mean... Aiden's insane.

You know the phrase 'beautiful mess?' That's him. Maybe I'm being unfair. He's ... complicated. And... Maybe this sounds ridiculous, but he's manipulative, in this way that's almost impossible to detect. In this way that makes you want to help him. And... I'm going to stop. This isn't the place to talk about Aiden. I don't need to talk about Aiden.

All you need to know is that I try to avoid him. Hard, when he's one of my best friends, but... I've been trying.

But I think that, out of everyone I know, he'd understand. I know, in some way, he'd understand. But that's what makes us dangerous. He recognises something in me. And he would use it to control me.

I sound paranoid as well as delusional now, great.

Maybe I'll just tell you what happened today. The event that made me come back here, made me open up my laptop and start typing in a new entry.

There's this coffee shop down the road from my house. I go there most days to get a takeaway flat white. And there's this guy that works there, a barista. His name's Jake and he's ridiculously good looking. Ridiculously. Like he should be advertising underwear for some seriously high-end designer brand. But at the same time, he looks like he's trying to go in the complete opposite direction - the intimidating direction - not the preppy underwear model direction. He's got really short hair, and tattoos up and down his arms and I'm pretty sure he's got an earring. I try not to look at him too much, because I don't want to seem creepy, or have him decide to get his probable gangster friends to assassinate me. And also because he's definitely out of my league. He looks like he's in his mid twenties, not that much older than me - but cool. And I am not cool. I'm a slightly chubby English student who wears cardigans and has permanently messy hair.

What am I writing? A description of my charms - or lack thereof - doesn't belong here.

What is relevant is Jake. The coffee shop. What happened there this afternoon.

The coffee shop is next to a park. Just meters away from the place I saw the figure dissolve.

I was sitting in the sun. People were walking around me, their shadows criss-crossing, overlapping everywhere. I was staring at that patch of road where the person had disappeared, thinking.

I've been doing a lot of thinking for the past few days. My family must think I'm in the midst of some massive existential crisis or weirdly delayed adolescent angst, but it's helped me. Helped me calm down, rationalise.

The cup of coffee was hot in my hand. I stared at the bright concrete, and the lower half of a person walked across my field of vision. They were wearing men's shoes.

I knew who it was before I looked up, because I have an embarrassing sort of radar where Jake is involved.

He wasn't looking at me, as usual. And I looked away, as usual. He was on his break, I guess. He walked towards a car parked badly on the side of the road.

And as I was studiously looking at the ground I realised something. Something bizarre.

Jake didn't have a shadow.

And instead of frightening me, it made me feel elated, almost, justified.

The world had broken once already, and here it was again. Something strange was happening, and I was aware, I was awake - I knew.

No one else knew.

Jake got in his car, and drove away.

I stood up, walked home. Wrote this. My coffee's gone cold beside me.

But I don't care.

As I write this, I can see my reflection. I look into her eyes. Bright blue. Determined.

It's terrifying. Of course it's terrifying. But... writing it like this makes me feel as though I'm in control. As though I'm writing a story where I'm the main character.

Maybe that sounds naive, but... I've spent my entire life reading stories about magic and the supernatural, brave people in extraordinary circumstances. I've dreamt about there being something more. I've always felt as though there's something more.

If a new world cracked open in front of you - no matter how terrifying, no matter how strange - do you think you could back away?

I don't know if I can.

I can't just return to my books and my peter pan collars - a mundane life, a safe world. A world where I'm always the quiet girl in the corner, dreaming about being somewhere else.

It's like being an astronaut. I've glimpsed the world from space, I've been able to obliterate it with my thumb - adrenaline is flooding my system, my heart feels like it's about to give out, and I'm terrified of the darkness around me - but I can't turn back now, I can't forget what I have seen.

I'm tired of writing stories. I want to be in my own. I want to understand. I don't want to be afraid.

The world has seemed strange, permeable, breakable to me before. Never quite as vividly as this, but it's happened. And if this is who I am, I want to learn more.

Next time a break, a fissure appears, I'm going to open it wider.

I'm going to step in.

^^^

Author's Note:

Thank you everyone for reading! Let me know how you found the chapter, please vote or comment if you enjoyed! :)

For more Anna, check out the tumblr (there's fan art there now?!): http://annawakes.tumblr.com/

Or the (super awesome) soundtracks: http://8tracks.com/annawakes