... it worked

I'm not even sure what to say now. I've spent the last thirteen hours trying to contact somebody, anybody, and now I don't even know how to explain what's happening to me.

My name is Charmaine Robinson, I'm from Kentigerna, Ontario, Canada, and I live at 1892 Ashton Drive. It's a white two story house with a green trim, and I'm trapped in my bedroom upstairs. The walls are melting and I can't get out.

This sounds stupid. Nobody is going to believe me. If anyone even sees this. Maybe some stoners poking around online in a few weeks will come across it and be high enough to actually look me up. For some reason this is the only outlet I can use. I've tried calling, texting, emailing, tweeting, facebook.... nothing sends. Just dead air, blank text boxes.

This is happening because I'm a loser. Instead of crashing somebody's new years party, I decided to lay in bed and read and ring in 2013 with my cat. I'm that girl. I was supposed to work today. But I'm five hours late. And nobody's called. I can't tell if my roommates are home yet because the walls have melted down over the windows.

Yeah, that's a thing. I had an alarm set on my phone for midnight so I could wake up and say happy new year to Sadie (my cat) and when I reached over to hit snooze I overreached and smacked my hand into putty. I thought maybe Sadie had gotten into something (pudding? Do we even have pudding in this house?) somehow and spilled something on the wall (from where? Wtf?) and when I turned on the light I fucking screamed.

I've almost gotten used to it at this point. Not the wall melting, but the fear making my body throb. I made a beeline for my door but it was a gooey mass without a doorknob to be seen. My windows are gone, I've tried digging through the shit but it has the consistency of squishy rubber, I can't get through it. It's not pooling on the floor either, just slowly sagging forever and ever, maybe sucking back into itself in the bottom and then running back down again at the top. I don't know. It doesn't make any physical or logical sense. But it's happening.

My throat is sore from screaming for help. I don't know how the neighbors didn't hear me. Like I said I've tried every means of communication. And for some reason, Blogger, of all things, works. Not exactly the most useful thing for me. If you're reading this, wherever you are, call the cops or fire department in Kentigerna and get them to blow my bedroom door down or something, anything... I've got a decent stash of chocolate in here leftover from Christmas and a case of raspberry ginger ale, but I don't know how long it'll keep me going.

Or call my house, tell my roommates to get their asses up here and help me. The number is 555-9027. Their names are Joel and Chris. Joel would be best, he's a beastly dude, he could probably break the door down, melty rubber and all. I don't know why they wouldn't have checked on me yet. My car's outside, they usually yell 'whatup?!' or something when they come in the door. I wouldn't possibly be sleeping at this point, also I'm supposed to be at work! Why hasn't anyone tried to find me?!

I've already exhausted the theory that I'm dreaming. I've never had such a long uneventful dream. I mean seriously, aside from the walls melting, who dreams about sitting in a room trying to use every means of social networking for half a day? This is severely fucked up. Unless I'm in a coma. Maybe the world ended at midnight and I'm stuck in some kind of purgatory. I wonder where these blog posts would go.

Maybe I should try to sleep. If I'm dreaming maybe that will wake me up. Fuck. I'm so scared, I don't think I could sleep. People always say that though and then they're so exhausted from being scared that they pass out. I'll try. Plus the faster I get this post up the faster I can start hoping to hell that somebody will read this and find me. Here's hoping I wake up.