I Can't Believe I'm Writing This.

November 2

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own.

Ooh, that sounds spine-chilling. That's how I'll explain it to Jess when I talk to her later. She'll appreciate the drama.

Seriously, though, I hope the lighting is just bad in here, because I look terrible in this mirror. I mean, terrible isn't even the word. My hair looks thin, my skin looks gray.

Ugh, okay, going to stop talking about it. It's bumming me out.

Otherwise, love the new apartment!

November 4

Settling in! Mom brought over a spider plant for my kitchen window. Found a great taco place on my new way to work. Meeting up with Jess this weekend. All good!

Except for this ugly mirror! I hate to go on about it, but it's huge. It dominates my whole bedroom, and I can't move it. It weighs a ton. And it creeps me out! I just don't look right in it. It's disturbing. Haha! I'm losing it, I know!

But really, I don't want it. I'm calling the landlord.

November 7

These tacos are everything and more. Going to stay in and watch Alien Archaeology. So tired.

There is something wrong with this mirror, though! Sometimes... my reflection doesn't move with me. It moves a little bit after me. I know, I know! That's insane. It's insane.

But I just can't shake the feeling that it's not me in that mirror.

Haven't heard back from the landlord. Ugh.

November 9

I haven't been able to go to work. Cancelled my plans with Jess. COVID negative, but I am not feeling great. I just want to watch movies in bed, but I have that thing tormenting me from across the room.

I'm sure of it now, and I don't care who believes me. That isn't me.

Whatever that is, it's sick. I swear, it's wasting away before my very eyes; it's a dusty bag of bones pretending to be me.

And something happened.

I can't believe I'm writing this.

I caught it. I caught it!

I sat in front of that mirror and I watched it. I just stared right at that ghastly thing. It took a long time, but I caught it. It twitched!

It was quick, but I know what I saw.

And I think it knows that I know.

November 11

It definitely knows.

It's given up the charade. This morning when I opened my eyes, it was already sitting up in bed, staring at me from whatever perdition exists inside that looking glass. I pretended to be asleep and watched it through my eyelashes.

It sat like that for hours.

I'm not getting better. I should go to the doctor, but I'm just so tired.

November 14

It started tapping on the glass last night.

One cadaverous finger, over and over, slowly. It's just standing there, tapping, still.

It's trying to get my attention, but I'm not going to look. I'm not.

I'm burning up. My sheets are damp with sweat; the room stinks of sickness. I just want to sleep, but I can't.

It just keeps tapping. I'm not going to look.

November 15

I don't remember falling asleep, but I must have. I thought— I thought I heard glass breaking, but it must have been a fever dream.

I wish I could say I'm feeling better, but something is wrong, I know it; every part of me hurts. I can't get warm, but— something happened.

When I looked in that awful mirror, it showed a reflection that wasn't my own.

My hair looked lustrous and my skin looked warm.

I can't believe I'm writing this.

I looked alive.