You ever have one of those weird moments and just brush it off? That was me—the queen of it’s probably nothing.

So, when I found a yellow Post-it on my desk in wobbly handwriting I didn’t recognize, I barely reacted. It reminded me to buy cucumbers and mail a letter—things I had thought about but never told anyone. It sat there like a message from a ghost.

I checked my phone. No reminders. Maybe I wrote it half-asleep? I tossed it.

Days later, another note appeared. Make sure you save your documents.

Odd. I was a freelance writer, working on a big project the night before. But I lived alone. Doors locked. No break-in. Just the note.

Then, one night, I woke up. Something felt off. I turned on my lamp—another note sat on my bedside table.

Our landlord isn’t letting me talk to you, but we need to.

My stomach dropped. My webcam footage? Deleted.

Then, I found a blank Post-it on my door. My neighbors had them too. Different colors, all blank.

Panicked, I ran to my friend Jessica. She had a terrifying theory: carbon monoxide poisoning.

She was right.

The leak came from the parking garage beneath my apartment. I was slowly being poisoned. My landlord knew and said nothing.

Now that I’m safe, I keep wondering—who left that note?

Was it me?

Or was something else trying to warn me?

If something feels off, trust it. Sometimes, paranoia isn’t paranoia at all.

Sometimes, it’s survival.