[ WP ] You are a schizophrenic maddeningly in love with the man/woman of your dreams . But you 're becoming increasingly unsure if she 's real , or just another hallucination .

She rests sitting against the wall of my living room today. Cigarette in hand and a fly on her shoulder. With a slap the fly is dead, but there's no carcass. 
 `` You should really get some furniture Dan, I do n't even have a chair to sit on'' She says. 
 I tell her I'm working on it. I just do n't have the money right now. Her name is Senna. She has blue hair and is currently inviting me to a sushi dinner, on her. Over the past eight months I've come to love Senna and since I only ever eat sushi with her, I guess I've come to love that too. 
 
 Senna drives a 2003 Volkswagen GTI painted to match her hair, or maybe it's the other way around. Inside the car the city lights become brighter, and they dance to the strange music she plays for me. I know she plays it for me because she tells me she hates it. She just enjoys the way my pupils dilate and the way my mouth curls as I scan the city skyline to that combination of electricity and timpani coming from the speakers. 
 
 We arrive at the sushi bar driving through orange-red light produced by the false lanterns above us. The host says hello to Senna. They've become friends. He returns a nod to me and leads us to a seat in the back room. There is a fly frantically searching this room for sustenance. I look closely and notice its the same fly from my apartment. The same one Senna killed. 
 
 Things like this keep happening. Senna breaks a pencil in anger and an hour later I find it next to her drawing pad, a little dull but still whole. I've watched her eat entire meals only to find them in bags in the refrigerator labeled `` Dan.'' I've gone to her mothers funeral only to hug her hello again the next weekend. 
 
 I know it's a game to her. I know she likes fucking with me as much as she likes fucking me, but I quite like the games. They give me something to look for every day, and today I was smart to look for the fly. 
 
 I look around the room at the symbol laden tapestry and decadent polished tables fit for businessmen or Yakuza. `` That was the same fly'', I tell her. She looks like a cartoon character's rendition of confusion. `` You did n't even try today.'' She ignores me and takes a bite of her food. I must have missed our food arriving. I look down and find nothing on my side of the table. She says `` You never ordered anything, you were too busy ogling the room and thinking about the fly.'' 
 
 She says `` But you're wrong about me not trying.'' She's pointing at a mirror on the wall behind me. I know it's a mirror shes pointing at because I hate the damn thing. I hate it and am tired of seeing it. But I know I will look. I always look at the mirror. 
 
 I turn to the mirror and sigh. This is how she wins, and she always does. The mirror is the sleeved ace she's always carrying. Every time I get close to beating her she points to it, and every time I look Senna is behind me sitting against the wall, with a cigarette in her hand and a fly on her shoulder.
