I met Aldon today. I don’t think I like him very much. He tends to stand over me and look down at me with those menacing, muddy-brown eyes. His fur is mangy and patchy, thick in some spots but thin in others. The whiskers on the left side of his face are all shorter than the whiskers on the right. I didn’t want to ask him why. I don’t like his voice. It’s wheezy, raspy, and above all, threatening.
He talks a lot even though I try not to ask him questions. I think he works for the hospital. He told me he was going to keep appearing until I took my medication. I told him I didn’t trust him. He said I shouldn’t. I don’t think he’s a hallucination like the others were. He’s too… scary. I don’t think my brain would create something like Aldon. I don’t think my brain would create something that wants to hurt me.
Aldon doesn’t like for me to keep this journal. He says I’m only encouraging bad habits by writing down the things I think while I’m “in this condition”. He uses those words a lot. He won’t tell me what condition that is, though. I tried asking the nurse about Aldon when he stepped out earlier. She didn’t seem to know who he was. When Aldon got back, he knew I had asked about him. He was angry. He scratched me. The nurse asked later where I got the cuts on my cheek, and I told her I must have scratched myself in my sleep. I’m not going to mention Aldon to her any more. Maybe my brain did create him. Maybe my brain hates me.
He keeps standing by my bed. He seems like he’s waiting for something. I don’t know what it is, unless he’s just waiting for me to go insane. If I have to keep looking at this mangy cat, I don’t think that’s too far off. He makes me uncomfortable, with his crooked smile and crooked gait. Cats shouldn’t walk around on two legs like that. Cats shouldn’t be tall or loom over people. Aldon is a lot of things that a cat shouldn’t be. I want him to go away.