CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "I Woke Up to My Wife Staring at Me. She Says She’s Waiting for the ‘Real Me’" Creepypasta

Episode Date: February 9, 2025

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Frequent-Cat:   / i_woke_up_to_my_wife_staring_at_me_she_say...  Creepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...SUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"-    • "I wasn't careful enough on the deep ...  ►"Personal Favourites"-    • "I sold my soul for a used dishwasher...  ►"Written by me"-    • "I've been Blind my Whole Life" Creep...  ►"Long Stories"-    • Long Stories  FOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter:   / creeps_mcpasta  ►Instagram:   / creepsmcpasta  ►Twitch:   / creepsmcpasta  ►Facebook:   / creepsmcpasta  CREEPYPASTA MUSIC/ SFX- ►http://bit.ly/Audionic ♪►http://bit.ly/Myuusic ♪►http://bit.ly/incompt ♪►http://bit.ly/EpidemicM ♪This creepypasta is for entertainment purposes only

My wife, Laura, has always been my rock. She's the grounded one, the person who keeps me sane when life gets messy. We've been married for six years and our life together has been, for the most part, normal. Maybe even boring in the best way. Steady jobs, a little house in the suburbs and the kind of routine you don't even think about because it just works. That's why all of this is so hard to wrap my head around. It's like I'm losing her, or maybe I'm losing something about her, if that makes any sense. It started small, little things I barely noticed at first.

Like a couple of weeks ago, we were sitting on the couch watching TV, and I realized she wasn't laughing at a joke I knew she'd normally find funny. When I looked over, she was staring at the screen, but her eyes weren't focused. She was somewhere else. I nudged her, and she blinked like I'd snapped her out of a trance. She laughed it off, said she was just tired. Another time she forgot where she put her keys. Now, I know that sounds like nothing.

Who doesn't lose their keys? but Laura never does. She's meticulous, the kind of person who has a place for everything and everything in its place. She even joked about how out of character it was. Guess I'm getting old, she said, with this weird little laugh that didn't feel like her. There have been other moments too,

like how she zones out during conversations or how she started hesitating when she speaks, like she's trying to figure out what to say. At first, I thought she might just be stressed. Work's been rough on both of us lately, and everyone has off days. But it's happening more and more, and I can't shake the feeling that something's off. I keep telling myself it's probably nothing.

Couples go through phases, right? People change a little over time. But the thing is, this doesn't feel like a little change. It feels like she's slipping away. Like she's here, but not here. And I don't know what to do with her. At first, I thought I was just being paranoid. Now, I'm not so sure.

And the worst part? It's not just the little things anymore. It's bigger now, weirder. And it's starting to scare me. It happened a few nights ago and I can't stop thinking about it. I haven't been able to sleep properly since. I woke up around 2 a.m. I think. You know that half-awake state were you not totally sure what's real yet? At first I couldn't figure out why I woke up. There wasn't any noise or

anything. But then I saw her. Laura. She was sitting on the edge of the bed completely still, facing me. It took a second for my brain to catch up. But when it did, I realized something was wrong. Her face was… Blank. Totally expressionless. Her eyes were wide open and she wasn't blinking.

Just staring at me like she was waiting for something. I mumbled still half asleep. What are you doing? She didn't answer right away. Then, in this flat, monotone voice, one I've never heard from her before, she said, I'm waiting for the real you. I honestly didn't know how to respond. My first thought was that she was sleepwalking.

She's never done it before, but hey, there's a first time for everything, right? So, I tried to play it off. I even laughed a little like, Okay, creepy, what does that mean? She didn't laugh. She didn't even move. She just kept staring at me for a few seconds, like she was deciding something.

Then she stood up, turned around, and walked out of the room without saying another word. I sat there for a minute, trying to process what just happened. I wanted to follow her, but something in the way she looked at me, so cold, so unfamiliar, made my skin crawl. Eventually, I convinced myself it was just a weird dream or some kind of sleepwalking thing. In the morning, I brought it up over breakfast. I tried to keep it casual like, hey, do you remember getting up last night?

She just stared at me for a second, like she was trying to figure out what I was talking about. Then she smiled, this small, tight smile, and said, Nope, must have been dreaming. That was it? No follow-up, no questions. She just went back to eating like nothing happened. I don't know. Maybe she really doesn't remember.

But something about the way she brushed it off felt off, forced maybe, like she was trying too hard to act normal. I've been trying to convince myself it wasn't a big deal that it was just a one-time weird thing. But the way she looked at me that night, the way she said that keeps replaying in my head. I'm waiting for the real you. What the hell is that? that's supposed to mean. A couple of nights before everything really fell apart, I caught Laura

doing something strange. I woke up around midnight to use a bathroom and noticed her side of the bed was empty. I didn't think much of it at first. Maybe she couldn't sleep and went downstairs. But as I passed the guest room, I saw the door was cracked open and the light was on. I peaked inside, and there she was. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, her back to me, her phone flashlight pointed to a small notebook in her lap. Her hair was messy, like she'd been tugging at it, and she was whispering to herself. Laura, I said softly, trying not to startle her. She froze for a second, then turned to look at me.

Her face was completely blank, like she wasn't even surprised to see me. What are you doing? I asked. She didn't answer. She just snapped the notebook shut and got up, walking past me without saying a word. She didn't even bother turning off the light. I stood there for a while, trying to figure out what I'd just seen. Eventually, I picked up the notebook she'd left on the floor.

It was old, one of those cheap spiral-bound ones you'd pick up for a few bucks. Most of the pages were blank, but the ones she'd written on were covered in what looked like. Instructions. Not coherent ones, though. Things like, ask questions, wait until he slips, check the reflection again. It didn't make sense. I put the notebook back where I'd found it and went to the notebook. back to bed, but I didn't sleep. I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever she was writing

about, it wasn't meant for me to see. Trying to let things pass didn't work. Things didn't stop. If anything, it was getting worse. A few days after she sat on the bed and said that creepy stuff about waiting for the real me, Laura started acting different. not in huge, obvious ways, but enough that I couldn't stop noticing it. She's been asking these weird questions, stuff like, Do you ever feel like you're not yourself, or what if this isn't the life you're supposed to have? She doesn't say it in a joking way either. Her tone is serious, like she's actually expecting me to give her some deep answer.

And every time, I just stammer something like. Like, I dunno, I guess. Because what else am I supposed to say? She's been staring at me too. A lot. It's not like she's zoning out anymore. It's deliberate. I'll catch her watching me while I'm eating dinner,

scrolling through my phone, or even brushing my teeth. I asked her about it once, tried to make a joke like, What, do I have something on my face? She just shrugged and said, I'm just trying to see something. See what? The worst was a couple of nights ago. I woke up again in the middle of the night and Laura wasn't in bed.

My first thought was the bathroom. But when I rolled over, I saw her. She was standing in the corner of the room facing the wall. I'm not proud of this, but I froze, like every hair and my body stood up at once and my mouth went dry. It was the way she was standing, completely still, her shoulders just slightly hunched, like she was listening for something. I managed to finally croak out. She didn't move for a few seconds, but then she whispered, not yet, you're not ready. I can't even explain how that felt.

My stomach dropped and my heart started pounding so hard I thought it was going to burst. I didn't know what to say. I just stared at her trying to make sense of what was happening. Eventually she turned around, walked back to bed and climbed in like nothing happened. She didn't even look at me. I didn't sleep for the rest of the night. The next day, I tried to bring it up, casually at first, just testing the waters. But the moment I mentioned her, getting up at night, she snapped.

She told me I was the one acting strange, always questioning her, always looking at her like she's the problem. That's when I started wondering if maybe it is me. Am I making this up? Am I just stressed out and reading too much into everything? But then I checked her phone. I know, I know, that was scummy of me, but I couldn't stop myself. And what I found, I can't unsee it. Her history was filled with things like how to identify a doppelganger, signs of possession,

and when someone isn't who they say they are. I don't even know how to process that. She's clearly convinced. something's wrong with me. But now I'm wondering if it's actually the other way around. What if something's wrong with her? Oh God, I hate that I'm even thinking this. What if something's wrong with the both of us? I don't know. I just don't know anymore. And it's starting to feel like I'm not going to figure it out until it's too late. I thought it couldn't get any worse. I thought maybe it would blow over that Laura just needed time, or maybe I needed to stop overthinking everything.

I was wrong. So, so wrong. A few nights ago, I woke up again. This time, Laura wasn't sitting at the edge of the bed or standing in the corner. She was right beside me, holding a small mirror up to my face. At first, I didn't even understand what I was looking at. The moonlight was catching the mirror at an angle, and it took my harvestly brain a few seconds to realize what was happening. She was whispering something over and over. Why won't you show yourself?

Why won't you show yourself? I froze. I don't know if you've ever felt true fear before. but it's not like in the movies. It's cold and paralyzing, and it makes you feel like you're outside your own body. Laura, I said, my voice cracking. What are you doing?

She didn't look at me. She just kept holding the mirror. Her eyes locked to my reflection. Her whisper turned into a low mutter, then into something more desperate. I reached out and grinned. grabbed the mirror, yanking it away. What the hell is going on? I demanded.

And that's when she snapped. You're not him, she screamed. Her voice roar and trembling. You're not the man I married. It wasn't just anger. It was something deeper. Pure terror. Like she was cornered by something she couldn't understand.

I tried to calm her down. But she kept shaking her head, backing away from me. He talks to me, she said, her voice breaking. Every night in my dreams, he looks like you, but he's not you. He's trapped and he's begging me to help him. He says you're the one keeping him there. I just stared at her, trying to process what she was saying. None of it made sense.

Laura, I said, trying to keep my voice steady. You're just having nightmares. That's all this is. Stress, lack of sleep. It's messing with your head. But she wouldn't listen. She pointed at me, her hand shaking and said, I can feel it. You're not him. You're not right. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to make her believe me. She left the room that night, slamming the door behind her. I just sat down. there, staring at the mirror in my hands, trying to convince myself that this was all in her head, that there was nothing wrong with me, but then doubt started creeping in. What if she was right? What if something really was wrong with me? I spent the rest of the night searching for answers. I tore through the house, looking for anything that might explain why she was acting this way. Finally, in the attic, I found an old box of her things. Inside was a journal she kept from the early years of our relationship.

I know I shouldn't have read it, but I was desperate. The first few entries were normal, sweet even, little notes about our dates, funny moments we shared. But as I kept reading, things started to get. It's strange. There were detailed descriptions of events I had no memory of. A trip to the beach where I apparently got sunburned so badly, Laura had to cover me in aloe. A dinner party with friends where I supposedly made everyone laugh so hard they cried.

I don't remember any of it. And then there was one entry that stopped me cold. Last night, I woke up and saw him standing at the foot of the bed. He looked like my husband, but something about him was wrong. When he realized I was awake, he smiled at me, but it wasn't his smile. It felt hollow, like he was pretending to be human. I don't know what's happening. I don't know what to believe anymore.

But the worst part, when I read that entry, it felt familiar like I'd lived it before. But how could I? How could I forget something like that? I couldn't keep it to myself anymore. I had to confront her. I thought if I just showed Laura the journal, we could finally talk this out, get everything out in the open

and figure out what the hell was happening to us. It didn't go the way I hoped. I found her in the kitchen the next morning, just sitting at the table, staring at a coffee like she didn't even see it. I put the journal down in front of her and said, You need to explain this. She looked up at me, then down at the journal, her face pale.

For a second, I thought she might deny everything. But then she flipped through the pages like she knew exactly what she was looking for. She stopped at one specific entry and slid it toward me without saying it. word. I picked it up and started reading. Last night I woke up and saw him standing at the foot of the bed. He looked like my husband, but something about him was wrong. When he realized I was awake, he smiled at me, but it wasn't his smile. It felt hollow, like he was pretending to be human. I don't understand, I said, my voice barely above a whisper. That's when I knew, Laura said, her voice trembling.

That's the night I realized you weren't. You. I tried to argue to tell her this was crazy, but she cut me off. You don't remember, do you? She said, tears streaming down a face. Or maybe you do, and you just won't admit it. But I know what I saw. That wasn't you.

I reached out to her. desperate to calm her down to make her believe me. But she recoiled so fast she knocked over a chair. Don't touch me, she screamed, backing into the corner of the room. I can't do this anymore. I don't know what you are, but you're not him. Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I just stood there, frozen, watching as she broke down in front of me.

I wanted to yell, to shake her, to make her understand that I'm still me. But am I? After a few minutes, she ran upstairs and slammed the door. I didn't follow her. I couldn't. Instead, I sat at the table, staring at the journal. The entry kept looping in my mind. He looked like my husband, but something about him was wrong.

I don't know how long I sat there before I got up and went to the bathroom I don't even know why I did it maybe I just needed to see myself to prove to myself that I hadn't changed I stood in front of the mirror looking at my reflection at first

everything seemed normal same face same tired eyes same messy hair but then I noticed it. It was small, almost imperceptible. But there it was, my smile. It didn't look right. It felt too wide, like it didn't quite belong to me.

I'm still standing here, staring at it, trying to convince myself, it's just in my head, that it's just stress or exhaustion or something. something normal. But the longer I look, the more certain I am. She's right. It's not my smile.