"Now you see it, now you..."

I think my existence is slowly being erased by some unknown power. One by one, this sinister force is swallowing my things into the vortex of oblivion and I am so certain, that eventually, it will come after me. It's just a matter of time.

I am so not freaking kidding.

You can't blame me for the display of this degree of paranoia. I lost my wristwatch, my WWJD bracelet, the pair of earrings that my mother bought for me last Christmas (I hope she never asks me about them), my notebook journal, and my mobile phone charger - all in a span of one week. Now, I dare you to tell me that I'm overreacting.

I always place the watch, bracelet, and earrings on top of the table after taking them off when I come home. Then, just a few days ago, they were all gone (I could imagine Justin Timberlake crooning, "Gooone... Gooone!"). I ransacked the whole room but couldn't find them. They're very inexpensive things. I'm not so sure about the earrings, though (I have no plans of asking my mother their exact worth. I enjoy being alive, thank you very much.). Besides, it's not the cost that matters. I need that brandless watch of mine because my obsessive compulsive disorder requires me to check the time every three minutes on my way to school; I also feel naked without that WWJD bracelet since I've had it for sooo long; and lastly, my mother will kill me if she finds out I lost something she gave me as a present. Again, it's not the cost that matters. My life matters a whole lot more.

My journal is probably my ninth or tenth since I started college. I always, always, always keep my present journal under my bed mattress. I wanted to write something yesterday (some plot draft for a potential short story) and so I tried to reach for it, but it wasn't there anymore. It wasn't anywhere in the room. I even tried to look for it in the box where we keep old textbooks, notebooks, photocopied materials, class cards, exam papers, old demons, and other resilient memories. Not there.

I was already bothered by these disappearances but imagine my utter disbelief earlier this evening when I found out that my cellphone charger was missing, too. It was beside my brother's and my sister's chargers. Theirs are still quietly sitting on the shelf and mine's the only one which has gone AWOL. It's beyond weird. It's mega-weird.

No, I don't think it was a burglar. Who would want my stuff? Why not take something valuable? My computer and all our mobile phones were just sitting there. Or if that was too cumbersome for the culprit, why not my sister's accessories, for crying out loud. She sure as hell spends way more on trinkets than I do. And what kind of pervert would want to take my journal? You see, folks, my journals are like rough sketches, if you will. There are outlines of ideas, but no definite form. More bluntly (and less dramatically), I think I'm the only one who can understand my penmanship in my journal. And my stupid charger is faulty that's why I usually use my sister's. So I don't know what's up with that.

The first time it happened, I was willing to dismiss it as another one of my absentmindedness. The next time, I was going to consider that a playful entity was doing tricks on me. But now, it's something bigger. A dark force, methodically wiping me out from the face of the universe. But It has not considered one thing: I am now aware of It's plan. I have the edge, my friends. The advantage. The upper hand.

Any good suggestions for a hiding place for my favorite books?