I Sit On My Own Face

This is my best story ever, Readers, lucky Readers.

NOTE: This is a censored version of the story. If you want to look at the uncensored version shoot me an email at xtinesteven@gmail.com.

“Will you come out and play, Chrissy?” I said to my reflection. But she didn’t answer.

All she said was, “Will you come out and play, Chrissy?” I mean, that’s what I saw her mouth saying.

I was bummed that she wouldn’t come out of the mirror.

“You promised me you’d let me sit on your face,” I said. “Will you do that tonight, please?”

But that was dumb. She didn’t answer. All she said, in a kind of mocking imitation of me being really whiny, was, “You promised you’d let me sit on your face…”

She could be cruel. I knew that about her now. She was moody.

Just like me, actually.

Readers, you probably think I’m so nice all the time, but I never write about my darkness, how I’m sometimes mean to people because I get really unhappy with my mental illness and stuff.