So I saw the above picture on We Heart It recently. I absolutely love it. It sounds brilliant. So I decided to write a short fiction based off of it; just a little something I whipped up in my spare time. I hope you enjoy it.
Hey, you. Yeah, you. The reader. Yeah, I know you’re there. And yeah, I’m breaking the fourth wall. I appreciate your interest in me and my life (although you know it doesn’t even exist outside of this page), but honestly, that’s a little creepy.
I suppose creepy is a little better than not existing. Okay fine, you can stay. But don’t get in my way too much. I should probably introduce myself. My name is Charlie and I’m seventeen. I love reading, so I guess we probably have that in common.
So you should know that as a book character I have lots of memories and friends and family. But they’re all fake. My room, with it’s blue walls covered in posters for all the nerdy things I like and pictures of all the people I know, is fake too. My world is just a page. It’s not real. And I know that.
You’re the only one who’s real, and although you could possibly get TMI, I really appreciate your realness. It’s very refreshing in a world that consists of ink and paper. Most people want to go into books, but I just want to get out of mine.
Your world sounds amazing. Okay, now I’m being creepy. Yeah, I know what’s in your head. Because like, I’m only in existence because you’re reading. So it’s all in your head. Not like you’re crazy, but yeah. It’s complicated.
So, I’m not really sure how this works, you know? Like, this is my first time… doing anything. I don’t really feel like introducing you to anybody or showing you around because what’s the point? It’s all fake. Except you…
I don’t even know why you’re reading my story. I’ll bet you have way better things to be doing. And yet… you’re here. Reading my story. Keeping me alive. Thanks for that. Thank you for reading my story. And I’m being a horrible host, too. Sorry, no adventure here. Just the ramblings of a fake teen.
You’re back. It’s been too long. I mean for me, I have like several weeks of fake memories since the last time I saw you. Nothing has been real. Not like you. I’ve missed you.
So I had a big breakup recently. I just… I needed someone real, you know? Not a fake story person. I want you. And please don’t let that scare you off. I know it isn’t possible, either. But the heart wants what the author says it wants.
Oh, how I hate my author for making me aware of you! It’s tortuous. Such a magnificent human being and I can’t be with you. Like at all. And I’m just a stranger to you, anyway. You’ve only known me for a few minutes. Like after this creep-fest you probably won’t even continue my story…
My love! Is it too soon to call you that? I understand it’s only been minutes for you. But look at it from my perspective. It’s been months for me. I’m almost eighteen, now.
And you disappeared on such a foul note. So you remember me as an insecure little fake person. I really hate it when you disappear. And what if the next time it’s years?
Whatever, you’re still here so you must like me. Right? Maybe you could write a fan fiction about me. If you did, maybe we could be together that way. I don’t know how it works, or even if it’d still be me, but isn’t it worth a try? Please consider it I don’t know how much longer my story here will be.
Wait, I feel something. My story… I think it’s ending. I don’t want it to! I want to stay! Please. Don’t close the book. I don’t want to die.
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