Hello. My name is Rose Lalonde and this is my journal entry.
I really had a journal long time ago. You know the one. The one which had MEOW scribbled all over it. Back then, I didn't know what it was. Now I do. And it's making me frustrated.
My frustration comes from the fact that I am in a mental hospital ward. Locked up and the only thing I can do here is write.
I found myself in this hospital because of this… syndrome. Something called Alternian Syndrome.
Well, it isn't much of a syndrome really. More of delusions and paranoia shown by some people I know.
Someone I used to know. Let me start the story. A brief one, since I cannot fully explain my adventures within this journal, much less this entry page.
So it all started with SBURB Beta, a game which we played to escape our doomed universe. It started with John's birthday, who we knew with this program called Pesterchum. Our adventures included many aspects, such as time travel, the Noble Circles of Horrorterrors, and even the destruction of universe and the ascension of god-tier.
Speaking of which, it involved many deaths and doomed timelines.
But a few months ago, I wake up in my bed, with a non-alcoholic mother staring down at me. She asked me if I was fine. I asked her why she wasn't drunk as always.
It was few days later that she had taken me to a mental hospital, where they found out that I believed I played this game called SBURB, and met these… trolls.
It was quite a recent syndrome that started the day I woke up on that bed.
I gathered few pieces of information during the months of my stay in this ward.
First, the Earth. Or this Earth, wasn't destroyed.
Second, there are patients under the name of trolls and my friends somewhere out there. I asked, and they identified about thirty or forty people diagnosed with the same symptoms.
The most extraordinary thing is that we all know each other, even though the records state we have never met before.
Finally, I am the one with the least symptoms of this supposed Alternian Syndrome. I am being released two days later. I am grateful for it, as this isolation therapy is driving me nuts.
I still refuse to believe that SBURB did not occur, but I have to live this reality.
And for the first time in what seemed to be years, I am going back to school.
Still I worry about the others who are still trapped in the mental institutions and therapy. I pity them, and I hope they are released as well.
But I am the first out. I hope that I am not going to be the last.
