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At last! You were sleepwalking and I nudged you in the direction of a pen and paper. This is a letter you wrote from me to you. If you think this is creepy how do you think I feel?

You need to see a doctor or a psychiatrist or something – anything to put an end to this confusing and, you have no idea, intolerable situation.

I’d like to point out how pissed off I am and how irritating you are. For a start, that bloke you’re going out with… I mean what?

It’s taken me ages to work out what I am and why I’m here. Actually I’m still guessing but working with clues.

For a start I think I’m supposed to be dead, or was, or something. I have a personality but little in the way of memory. Personality and an understanding of culture don’t come easily. I suspect I was alive once to get them.

I know where I am. No, not just in your world but more or less exactly. I see through your eyes but can’t hear a word. Well, thank God for the latter because your goon-faced boyfriend is unlikely to say anything worth hearing. Honestly, have you heard the saying ‘There’s a light on but nobody’s in’? He doesn’t even have a light.

I don’t feel anything either. Not the things you touch, your heartbeat, anything. I have noticed you taking innumerable tablets but don’t know what they are. The packets have writing in English but this must be some weird English I don’t need to know about. You possibly live in the USA or something.

I’ve been slightly to half-awake for ages but only recently achieved consciousness. A consciousness, I’ll have you know, I’m not happy about. Anyway, back to the tablets. Why are you taking them? It’s another clue. I suspect you have headaches or some other neurological problems.

To sum up. I’m conscious now and becoming more so. This means I may be getting bigger. I can see through your eyes so I’m probably located in the lower back of your head – the occipital area to be exact.

I am growing and therefore probably going to kill you sooner or later. I’m grumpy and irritable. It’s unlikely I’m benign. I don’t trust myself – but who does? That’s almost certainly the sort of nonsense I died to avoid. Life is a messy business and should be eradicated at all costs. This particular form of existence promises only to get worse. I certainly don’t want to end up spread throughout your liver and bones. Do something! – well two things.

1: Go and see a doctor. Phone for an emergency appointment right now. Have me excised, lasered, chemically treated or whatever – and stamp on the bits.

2: Get rid of that idiot boyfriend.

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©Gary Bonn 2018