The Final Stretch and the Quiet Between

 I know it’s been a while—way too long—and for that, I owe you an apology. Things have been chaotic lately. Between finishing up my combined Bachelor’s and MD program and the whirlwind that followed the graveyard investigation, time just slipped through my fingers. The truth is, I’ve been buried in books, lectures, clinicals, and all the craziness that comes with the final stretch of medical school. It feels like the finish line is right there, but it’s this endless sea of tests and sleepless nights standing between me and the end.

I wanted to write sooner, but I guess it’s hard to put your thoughts into words when you’re barely keeping up with your own reality.

Since the investigation, everything has been… hectic, to say the least. The Cryptic Club—Brooke, Kieran, Nox, Payton, and I—has been put on hold for now. We all went into this with so much excitement, but life has a way of hitting you when you least expect it. Brooke’s been working hard on her career, landing a fantastic internship at Google, and I couldn’t be more proud of her. She’s killing it, and I know she’s going to do amazing things. She’s always been so driven, and seeing her succeed is just a reminder of why I’m so lucky to have her by my side.

As for the rest of the group, everyone’s lives have gotten busier, and it’s hard to stay connected when you’re juggling a thousand things. Kieran’s traveling for research, Nox has been working OT at the club and Payton been MIA for awhile now. I do hope she's okay. It’s a little bittersweet that the club’s been on pause. We had so much planned, but for now, I think we all need to focus on the present.

With residency looming on the horizon, I’m not sure how much time I’ll have to contribute to the blog or keep up with anything else. I’ve been pushing for this moment my whole life, but I’m also realizing how little space there’ll be in my schedule for anything beyond the hospital and my studies. But I promise you—I’ll do my best to keep you updated when I can. This blog has always been my way to connect with all of you, and even if it’s less frequent, I’ll make it work.

The finish line is close, and it’s both exciting and terrifying. I can’t wait to start this next chapter, but I’m also trying to savor these final moments of my journey through school. It’s all been a blur, but I wouldn’t change a thing.

Thanks for sticking around, and for being patient. I’m grateful for every one of you who’s been following this journey with me. I’ll be back soon enough.

Between Pages

 The clock ticks soft in borrowed halls,

Where dreams once whispered through these walls.
Notes and needles, bones and breath—
A thousand steps from life to death.

I used to write beneath the moon,
With hands ink-stained and thoughts in bloom.
But silence crept into my days,
And time began to slip away.

Friends I loved now scatter wide,
Chasing stars and truths we tried.
The club we made with hearts so bold,
Now paused beneath the dust and fold.

Brooke is light in motion still,
With hands that bend the world to will.
She speaks in codes and silver skies—
Google found its flame in her eyes.

And I? I chase a different flame,
White coats, cold rooms, the weight of names.
A healer's path, a sacred ache,
To hold what's breaking, mend what's fake.

I fear the blur of every hour,
The loss of ink, of dreams, of power.
But I will write when shadows part,
In scraps of breath, in bits of heart.

For though the time grows thin and fast,
These words, like ghosts, are built to last.
And when the world forgets my voice—
This quiet page will be my choice.

Truth, Fiction, and Whatever’s In Between

 Second semester started the way most things do lately—quietly, and without warning. One day it’s break and long naps and leftover pie, and the next I’m sitting in a cold lecture hall, trying to remember how to take notes like a real person.

I ran into Nox on campus the other day. We haven’t had a real conversation since finals. He's the kind of guy who always has some weird, brilliant thought in his back pocket, ready to drop it mid-conversation like it’s nothing. This time was no different.

We were sitting on the grass behind the science building, watching clouds do what clouds do best—move slowly and never explain themselves. He said, “You ever think about how none of this feels real? Like… what even is reality? One person’s life could sound like a complete lie to someone else.”

I laughed at first. Thought he was just being poetic again. But the more we sat with it, the more it made sense.

There are people out there who’ve never left the city they were born in—and then people like Brooke, who used to fly to Tokyo like it was a weekend errand. People who grew up in quiet houses with dinner at 6 p.m. sharp, and people who raised themselves on cereal and cartoons while their parents worked three jobs. People who believe in God. Or ghosts. Or fate. Or none of it. And every single one of them is telling the truth… at least their version of it.

One man’s truth really is another man’s fiction.

It made me think about my own life. About being raised by two moms. About hopping from country to country before California felt like home. About how someone’s mother once said my hair color explained my sexuality. About how a guy in my psych class last semester said trauma isn't real, just “bad choices.” And how someone else once told me I was lucky for having a “fun, non-traditional family,” like it was a quirky Pinterest board instead of a whole, real life.

What’s fake to you might be sacred to someone else. What’s obvious to me might feel like magic to Nox. It’s wild.

And maybe that’s what college is—learning how to sit with other people’s truths without trying to rewrite them. Learning how to share yours without apologizing for it.

Anyway, second semester has barely started and I already feel like I’ve been hit with a philosophical brick. Thanks, Nox.

Here’s to another few months of learning what’s real—for me, for others, and for whatever lives in the strange, blurry middle.

A Gentler Visit

 After the chaos that was Christmas, Brooke and I needed a reset. Something quieter. No awkward stares across dinner tables or offhanded microaggressions that ruin dessert. So, when her parents invited us to visit them in London this spring, I was… hesitant. Brooke was too, but more in that sigh-and-roll-her-eyes kind of way. Apparently they wanted a "fresh start." Their words, not mine.

We figured: Why not? Worst case, we’d explore the UK and avoid being in the house too long. Best case, maybe we’d all act like semi-functional adults for once.

So, we went.

They picked us up from Heathrow—again—and this time the silence in the car wasn’t as heavy. There was music playing (Coldplay, ironically), and Brooke’s mom asked if we’d eaten. I think she was trying. It didn’t feel perfect, but it felt... less cold.

Their house is just outside of London, in a neighborhood that smells like rain and garden tea. Very posh, very polished, but oddly cozy. Brooke showed me the room she grew up in, though most of it had been remodeled into a guest suite. The only thing untouched was a tiny drawing taped behind the closet door—a crayon sketch of her and Bruce holding hands.

That got me.

The trip was easy, mostly. We wandered around Notting Hill, browsed overpriced bookstores, drank tea that somehow tasted like old wood but cost more than a burger. Took a train to Brighton one day. Another day we caught a local play that had me asleep before Act II (don’t tell her mom, she paid for the tickets).

The most surprising part of it all? Her parents were… human. Still wrapped up in their UK elite mindset, still occasionally tone-deaf, but they actually tried to connect. Her dad even asked me more about med school, and this time he didn’t flinch when I mentioned my moms. He just nodded and said, “Hardworking women then, I imagine,” and that was it. No follow-up questions. No weird smile. Just respect.

I think what made this trip feel different was the absence of expectation. We weren’t hosting. We weren’t putting on a show. We were just... being. Her mom even asked Brooke about her art for once, not just grades or career plans. Her dad sat with Bruce and chatted over scotch like old colleagues. It wasn’t sunshine and lollipops, but it also wasn’t stormclouds and pettiness.

Sometimes peace looks like four people quietly coexisting in a living room, all flipping through their phones, with a movie playing nobody’s watching. Sometimes it’s walking hand-in-hand through an unfamiliar place, knowing you’re both a little more at ease than you were yesterday.

We didn’t solve everything. We’re not suddenly one big blended family. But London gave us a moment to breathe. And for Brooke, I think it gave her a little bit of closure—even if she won’t say it out loud.

It was a gentler visit. And that was more than enough.

The Strangers in My Dreams

ast night, I dreamed of a woman with honey-brown eyes and a crooked smile. She was sitting at the edge of a fountain, humming something soft and wordless. I sat beside her, though we didn’t speak. I remember the wind tugging at her scarf, the weight of something unspoken pressing against us like fog. When I woke up, I couldn't shake the feeling that she was real.

A quick search later, and I found her face. Her obituary. Gone three years now. I’ve never met her. I don’t know her name beyond what the internet told me. Yet somehow, she found her way into my dream.

This isn’t the first time. It’s happened too many times to write off as coincidence. A boy with burn marks on his palms. A man who kept handing me keys. A child who laughed in a language I don’t understand. I meet them all in dreams—and wake to find they no longer walk this world.

I keep asking myself: why me? Why do they visit me, if “visit” is even the right word? Is this some echo of grief I’ve never owned? A trick of my subconscious? Or something more?

I never feel afraid. Just... curious. Sometimes, honored. These strangers arrive and leave as gently as dusk. But their presence stays with me long after morning. I can’t help but wonder if our souls brush against one another somewhere between sleep and silence—if there’s a place beyond time where the dead remember, and we’re invited to remember them back.

I don’t have answers. Only dreams. And maybe, that’s enough.

Journal Pages we found from the investigation

Hey guys! So I figured I'd update you on whats going on! So a few days ago we went to an abandoned graveyard and found an old lab. We also found tapes and journals from these people named Armen Revon and Emmanuel Davis. Brooklynn is going to convert the tapes to mp4 so you guys can see them. And for some of the journal pages I'll upload them here!

Journal Pages

Logs

"Anon"

So we've been getting weird emails from someone named Anon. At first we though it was some sort of gag but apparently not. The emails we've been getting with these messages and videos have been down right creepy. We've been ignoring it for a while, trolls are going to troll; thats just the internet. 

Then we got an email to visit a graveyard from the same person. Like it was a geunine request. We’re all going to investigate it tomorrow night to hopefully figure stuff out! We’ll post the investigation on youtube! 

1

Dreams #2

I figured I'd explain who "He" is. Though I don't quiet understand who he is myself, I'll try my best to explain.

The Practitioner, that's what he goes by. I don't know his or it's name. I say he because It appears masculine, figure and voice tell it all. He's odd to understand. His way of helping is hurting. Though he's aware that he's inflicting pain whether it be mentally or physically, he believes that it's the only way to help. He enjoys hurting people, and the people he hurts enjoy it too, which is why they always come back to him. Implying he has other patients is alarming because Isn't it my dream? Who else could you be "helping" if not only me? In that case I'd have to assume that maybe it's my mind making it up or he isn't a dream, and there are others..Anyways. The last time I saw him, we didn't conversate. He simply said, "I see you've returned." As if I'm imagining him willingly, if I'm 'imagining" at all. His hand grazed my skin and it felt so comforting to watch it melt. To feel the sting, like hot grease being poured on to me. I couldn't help but smile, I think it was a smile. The only thing that assures me that these are dreams is the fact I slowly forget them just as quickly as any other. That I'm glad, frankly I don't want to remember.

 

Dreams #1

 I've been having those dreams

I thought it'll never get this bad again

To the point where I start seeing him.

Just before I wake he grabs me

And as soon as he does my skin starts burning 

Melting onto the ground in slices

I never say a word though 

No reaction but a smile

Because it feels nice

To hurt

In the dreams of course

I wonder how it would feel if it were real.

I don't know if they're dreams or not anymore.

Surely it can't be real? 

I wake up with no scars so it can't be real.

There's no way in hell he exists.

It's not real. 

None of it is real.

Welcome Home

 Recovery Of a 70’s Kid Show

Welcome home is a website revolving around recovering a popular children's show from the 70’s that mysteriously got canceled. The show revolves around a yellow puppet named Wally Darling and his 9 Neighbors that ‘lived’ in a place called The Neighborhood. However it doesn't seem like the eyes behind welcome home are very welcoming. Brooke and Patyon did some digging into this unfiction story and boy does it have a kick. They were expecting it to be similar to DHMIS(Don't Hug Me I'm Scared) however its two completely different concepts. 

Needlem0use

 Sonic Exe Project 

Needlemouse is a project revolving around a girl named Sarah seeking revenge on her killers who were once her friends. Payton and Nox really loved this story and really wanted to include this in the investigation. We suggest you check out the series for yourself, wouldn’t want to spoil the plot here. Sarah, later known as Needlem0use, is the titular main antagonist of the analog horror series Needlem0use.

Drabble

 I remember when things were fine. I would walk to my favorite cafe around 1 AM sitting in the back booth, ordering an iced caramel mocha, and have my music play. I would blissfully 

I watched customers come in and out and how the stars disappeared from the sky as it got late. Everything was so simple, so calming. I remember walking back home, I remember the jeans I had on, I remember how the gravel felt against the souls of my shoes, I remember how I smiled at the stupidest video on my phone. I remember when things were fine, until it wasn't. I remember the tears streaming down my face, I remember how the blood stained my palms and the brown carpet beneath me, I remember frantically looking for a phone while hyperventilating, I remember the sight of two corpses in my parents bedroom

Update

 

I'm going to start noting my dreams and dissociative moments (daydreaming ig). The amount of Deja Vu I've been feeling is sickening. Hopefully this isn't a manic episode of mine because I'm too tired.

Nightmares

I woke up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. All that could be heard is my heavy and shaky breaths along with the shallow rain beating on the window from outside. I moved my hair from my eyes, catching my breath for a moment still processing the wake up shock. Ive been getting these fucked up nightmares lately, seeing things too. I think its the lack of sleep from school honestly.

That was one hell of a nightmare..fuck, and Im covered in sweat.

I groaned, placing my feet on the floor taking a deep breath as I got up, grabbed my phone off the nightstand, and walked towards my bedroom door. 

Damn, 3am. What a great fucking hour to wake up. I scrolled through my notifications seeing a text from Payton

around 11pm.

Payton Lewis: We got another email from this "Anon" person. And its creepy af. 

I rolled my eyes walking down the hall as I sighed. What is up with this guy? Does he just get off to scaring people or what. It was funny at first, but these messages are getting down right intrusive and weird. I opened the door to the bathroom slowly wincing as the high creak of the hinges echoed through the hall. Slouching against the counter, I took a long breath and looked into the mirror. It’s going to be a long day.

The Murder Of Kelsey Wakeham

 Found Footage

July 7th, 1987 Recorded Footage Involving The Murder Of Kelsey Wakeham. This 'homicide' was one out of the seven that occurred that day. This footage was later used in the Spirts Valley Cult Case. We found this while cleaning out the school's old library, of course we got permission to post about this since it’s owned by the county but yeah. 

What happened that day is a complete mystery. Happened on 7th street too. It weird because everything involved the number 7, down to the ages of the missing kids to the damn hour they supposedly went missing or "died". There's not much more info than that we got from the tape. Nox is thinking about asking his Boss about it since he was around when this happened. 

Old town commercial?

 Someone sent us a video under the name "Anon" that's titled "The Blooming". I or the others aren't quite sure if it's really or not but it sems too good quality to be one of the old commercials from the 70s'. Here's the video that was sent in the email, maybe you guys can help us verify if its real or not.

Cryptic Investigation Crew

 So we're working on cryptic! Which will have it's own little channel! Till then you guys can send emails to TheDepravityProject@outlook.com !!! We've done a few investigations already and until the channel is up and running I'll post them here! Think of it like a sneak peak! 

we've posted a small intro! https://youtu.be/tO8e3YIDd20 

(ty to Brooke for the Graphic Design) 

IM BACKKK

 IM BACKKK! So- I left a little longer than expected but Ive got lots of things planned out! So here's a few photos over the past few months!

Hiatus

 Going on a small hiatus for a bit! I have a big test coming up that I really need to focus on. After that there's Brooke's birthday which we're going an "internet free" retreat. (Her idea not mine. Personally I dont think she's going to like it much-) then there's some planning with the Investigation Crew! Im just going to spend a bit time to enjoy the people around me. School and work has been eating me alive and a break for a bit is what I need. With that, see you all soon!