Bag Face Man

Dear Diary,

Fucking bag bitch has me losing my mind. When he came yesterday he just stood there like a dumb ass. I didn’t say anything. Instead, I went downstairs. Somehow the fucker decided he wanted to appear there too. That’s when I started to lose it a little. I went into the kitchen drawer and pulled out a knife. I was frowning so hard I almost cried. My whole face hurt.

“Go away.” I said mad as hell. My teeth were tight together when I said it so it didn’t come out sounding right. He said nothing still. I walked up to him and tried to stab him but the knife just went through him. “You’re not real, you’re not real, you’re not real,” I keep saying, still trying to stab him. Still he stood there, nothing happening to him. The knife just went in him and out. It was like stabbing a highly realistic hologram.

“I told you that if you don’t help me, I would hurt your mom, didn’t I?” he said.

“This is not about my mom.” I said almost whispering.

“Are you going to help me?”

“Do it yourself.”

“I can’t. That’s why I need you.”

“Why the fuck would you need me if you can hurt my mom? Leave me alone.”

“I can’t kill him.” I just ignored him and put the knife down and went to my room. The singing lady was there singing a happy song which didn’t match my mood at all. I didn’t see the bag face man for the rest of the day.