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We bought that Arcade 1Up claw machine for our gameroom/basement. So that’s been fun.

I am doing IVF treatments and feel like I am going to get air bubbles in my blood stream and die or something. Love that catastrophizing that I do. 

Shawn, myself, and one of our ghost hunting friends caught some weirdo faking evidence at an investigation we hosted. I looked at the picture and immediately was like, “Oh, that’s fake.” 

It took me literally 2 seconds to figure out the original image they used and shopped on top of a photo of me sitting on a couch in the dark. I am still supremely pissed about that. It was these two guys who signed up to investigate this old school house we were raising money for and they were like angry the whole time because every time they walked in the room it seemed like the activity would move. Shawn said he thinks the ghosts did not like them. I don’t like them either. They also used this very “demonic” looking image which is so not the ghost vibe of the school house. I honestly never had a bad experience ghost hunting anywhere in Lake County, Ohio and these guys were like, “oh it’s so boring here. We want to find the demonic activity,” like ok, sure good luck with that demon when the normal nice ghosts can’t stand you, sir. It’s crazy active up by the lake and at this point I have a lot of repeat ghosts (same voices and names) coming through in evidence and they literally use my name now to get my attention on recorders.

(Of course that first few months after my sister died everywhere we investigated we got what sounded like my sister on every recording device going, “Megan, Megan, Megan Harris! Can you hear me?” Even in rooms I wasn’t in or investigating at the time. I haven’t heard her during an investigation since I saw her on the edge of my bed that one night so I imagine she’s moved … wherever ghosts go…)

 

Can’t sleep again, love that for me.

 

It’s been months,

And ever since that morning at 7:32 -

I’ve felt like I’ve been falling 

Always on a roller coaster on the edge of the biggest drop.

And what is coming up ahead? 

When do I get off the ride? 

Is it my time?

When will it be my time?

I’ve been fighting against the end my whole life.

I am so tired of fighting so hard and hanging on so tight.

When they had my little sister covered in make up on that metal slab - 

She looked 13 again - sleeping in her bed after crying about her first boyfriend.

Waking me up crying asking me “why do men…?”

Well I don’t know now and I sure didn’t know then.

I thought she’d wake up at any second.

Cremains are so much more than you expect. I transferred them all by myself and held my breath. No one else could stomach it so it had to be me. It always has to be me. I need to be the anchor holding everyone down in the rough seas. I am the faulty straps on the roller coaster and one day I will break. But no one ever checks me.

Heather was all over the dining room table in my mom’s two bedroom shack.

I hadn’t imagined she’d not all fit. 

I still kept talking to her like she was there,

“Well, now you gone and done it kid. You went and made a mess.”

My mom came walking in a bunch of mums in her hand. 

“Is Heather in the urn, ready to go to the event?”

“Well, most of her is….”  I said standing next to the vac. 

And it brought me back to this moment when my sister was just freshly fifteen. We were interviewing for this same summer job.

The big interview came around my sister got in the car, hair unruly, in jeans, and a tie dye tee. I was in my mock interview suit jacket, hair tied back, ironed and clean.

In the back seat I demanded she switch clothes with me. I said I wouldn’t let her go in looking like that. She just stared at me but eventually convinced she gave me her clothes, I pulled the hair tie from my hair and cleaned her up in the back seat as my mom drove us both.

I only got the job because my sister snitched on me.

It’s just always been expected of me to self sacrifice 

To stand between my siblings and the storms.

To take a bullet for my people and maybe it’s the survivors guilt but I failed because I couldn’t take those bullets for her. 

What if I’m burnt out…