It’s been growing there for quite a while, this thing in my brain. The other day, it started talking to me.
“Will you write about me?”
“Who are you?” I asked, thinking it must be a character waiting to be put in a story.
“I am part of you but not. I grew from you and I give you pain. Also, I have teeth.”
It likes to taunt me; pretending that it’s going to eat my brain.
Then it laughs. “Oh no, mon ame. Your tête is full of le fluff. Je t'aime.”
It loves me by giving me pain.
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