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Girl Sits On Bed Post Video

Sad man sitting on bed after quarrel with wife touching face while girl sleeping

Recently, on Twitter and simultaneously on the Reddit website, an unusual video appeared that was posted by a young girl. At night, her father began to feel that someone was playing around with his bedding, and also it seemed to him that something was sitting on his bed.

Apparently there were no pets in this house, so the man became frightened and put a camera in his bedroom. After he looked through the footage, he definitely saw something paranormal there.

First, someone with a force pulls the cover to the left side, and then sneaks under it in the right side. But the worst happens at the end, when in the left side for a couple of seconds you can see a silhouette similar to a human.

And this is not the awakened father of the girl, but something else, since the silhouette moves to the right and suddenly disappears.

And then it slowly dissolves in the air. Due to the poor quality of black and white writing, it is difficult to see what kind of silhouette appears on the bed.

Or is it really a ghost in the form of a man or some kind of illusion. How goddamn slippery the slope was to get here.

How lucky I am that I still want to keep reaching. When almost every day was an utter struggle. To drink. To not drink.

To find my place in the world. So yesterday I wrote down exactly what made it so hard because I never want to forget. I want to remember so I can say to someone staring down the same uncertainty: I have been there.

I remember. I know. Let me tell you. My husband and I were recently separated. The transitions with our three-year-old daughter were still new.

He had just picked her up and the silence that fell after they shut the door was deafening. I was alone.

In the house that we lived in. A house much too big for one. I was newly single. I had blocks of free time to myself suddenly.

My instinct was to go out, find some pals to play with, to drink away the afternoon, the emptiness, the space. But I had lost that right.

A couple months prior when I very publicly left my daughter unattended while I was drinking not the first, or the last, of my low points I lost the right to go drink an afternoon away.

Suddenly it felt like the world completely closed in on me. Like I could actually hear doors shutting. I crumbled into a pile of tears in my oversized red chair.

I wailed to the empty room and the beautiful light. I cried for a long, long time. Some might hear this and think, Really? And my answer would be, Yes — all those things.

Over 36 years of living and 20 years of drinking, I had linked a lot of life to drinking. It had not always been my enemy; it was actually great fun for a long time.

Omni-present but not oppressive. A glue in my relationships. An activity that spun up whatever I was doing into something a little more sparkly, giddy, enticing.

Yet, the saddest girl in the world sitting there on that red chair was the same girl who woke up in her bed almost daily in a panic, shaking, and confused because of drinking.

She was the same girl that was afraid of herself much of the time. Whose hands shook. Whose heart raced constantly.

Who couldn't look people in the eye. Who needed caffeine in crazy doses to wake up and long runs to quell her nerves.

No conscious connection in the light of day. And I know I was very aware of this fact. Like an invisible current of electricity was circulating through me — a low-level, barely detectable, but everywhere current that left me raw and jumpy.

Aware of everything I was doing and not doing. Here I am, driving my daughter home from school, not going to get wine. Here I am taking a walk to the park, not drinking.

Here I am, cooking dinner, without wine. Here I am riding the train home.

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According to them, there is nothing paranormal there, and the veil was moved by the father himself in a dream with his hands or legs.

The rest is just a play of light and shadow. My dad has been feeling his sheets being messed with and someone sitting on his bed in the night so he set up a camera.

This is what he saw. Save my name, email, and website in this browser for the next time I comment. Notify me of follow-up comments by email.

Notify me of new posts by email. Yes, add me to your mailing list. Facebook Comments. Share this: Facebook WhatsApp. You are ok. All day thereafter I thought about what it was like waking up that way, over and over again.

How grateful I am that I haven't woken up that way in a while. How far away that feeling seems, but how close it is, too.

How goddamn slippery the slope was to get here. How lucky I am that I still want to keep reaching. When almost every day was an utter struggle.

To drink. To not drink. To find my place in the world. So yesterday I wrote down exactly what made it so hard because I never want to forget.

I want to remember so I can say to someone staring down the same uncertainty: I have been there. I remember. I know. Let me tell you.

My husband and I were recently separated. The transitions with our three-year-old daughter were still new. He had just picked her up and the silence that fell after they shut the door was deafening.

I was alone. In the house that we lived in. A house much too big for one. I was newly single. I had blocks of free time to myself suddenly.

My instinct was to go out, find some pals to play with, to drink away the afternoon, the emptiness, the space.

But I had lost that right. A couple months prior when I very publicly left my daughter unattended while I was drinking not the first, or the last, of my low points I lost the right to go drink an afternoon away.

Suddenly it felt like the world completely closed in on me. Like I could actually hear doors shutting. I crumbled into a pile of tears in my oversized red chair.

I wailed to the empty room and the beautiful light. I cried for a long, long time. Some might hear this and think, Really? And my answer would be, Yes — all those things.

Over 36 years of living and 20 years of drinking, I had linked a lot of life to drinking. It had not always been my enemy; it was actually great fun for a long time.

Omni-present but not oppressive. A glue in my relationships. An activity that spun up whatever I was doing into something a little more sparkly, giddy, enticing.

Yet, the saddest girl in the world sitting there on that red chair was the same girl who woke up in her bed almost daily in a panic, shaking, and confused because of drinking.

She was the same girl that was afraid of herself much of the time. Whose hands shook. Whose heart raced constantly.

Who couldn't look people in the eye. Who needed caffeine in crazy doses to wake up and long runs to quell her nerves. No conscious connection in the light of day.

And I know I was very aware of this fact. Like an invisible current of electricity was circulating through me — a low-level, barely detectable, but everywhere current that left me raw and jumpy.

Aware of everything I was doing and not doing.

Posted by Faulmaran

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