The mirror is a rapist in disguise. It is trying to kill me.

Every time I turn off the lights and crawl into bed, it steps forward menacingly. It moves closer and closer to the bed, until I turn the flashlight on. Then it jumps back into its place in the corner and it. is. JUST. a mirror.

With the light off? It’s a rapist again. Because the rapist got in through the locked garage/basement/front/back doors, came upstairs, AND into the closed bedroom door without me hearing it.

When the heater kicks on? I jump. When the toilet randomly makes noise? I jump. And let’s not forget the self-drying Whirlpool tub. That motherfucker is actually a ginormous vacuum in the ceiling that is going to suck me into outer space and perform rude, invasive experiments on me. As if I don’t have enough problems.

As I sit downstairs at the table, working on my laptop, I’m convinced that there is someone standing in the backyard, Michael Myers style. But there are no footprints.

The rapist has technology.

I know you’re coming for me, motherfucker. And I have a message for you: you can’t get me, as long as I have the flashlight I am safe, and I see RIGHT THROUGH your flimsy disguises.

So if I disappear and stop updating, dear readers, you know why. It was the mirrorrapist.