My imaginary friend is surprisingly fashionable.

  I don’t fully understand where this talent came from, but it seems to mean she has to use me as a dress up doll to vent her clothes related urges.

  Luckily, my closet is exclusively full of clothes that don’t suit me at all, so her need for my services as a living toy shouldn’t be in demand for long.

  Ami seems like someone who can have fun no matter what, but I’m certain even she won’t be interested in dressing up a doll that looks bad in everything.

  “Oh, this looks good on you, but I think this top will go better with that skirt.”

  She isn’t even three weeks old and already lying so brazenly, I truly have failed in raising her.

  It turns out I really wasn’t ready to adopt a newly born imaginary teenager, who could have known?

  Well, for now I have no choice but to deal with her deceit.

  I take the top she pointed out and go back into the bathroom to carry out my duties as her plaything.

  I change my shirt and look at my reflection in the mirror, a necessity for her to know how I look when I return to the room.

  I don’t think the outfit she chose is bad or anything, but with such a model I really can’t see the appeal.

  It’s always like that, nothing I wear ever seems to look good on me, and I can never really put my finger on why.

  A black skirt, white blouse and the weird stylish belt that my mom insisted on buying and I insisted on never wearing.

  It seems like they should combine into a set with a simple but fairly stylish look, but when I wear them they just look odd.

  Maybe it’s my hair or my face or just my whole existence that negates the clothes innate stylishness.

  It would probably look really good on someone like Ami, with her long black hair and pretty face, but she seems to change clothes even less than I do .

  Well, I don’t intend on visiting any imaginary stores to diversify her wardrobe anytime soon, so the least I can do is act as a doll for a little while longer.

  I go back to my room wearing the new top and holding the old one in my hands.

  “Yup, this top looks much better, give me a spin.”

  I try to spin in place and almost trip over the clothes spread all over the floor.

  Folding all of them back afterwards will be an absolute nightmare.

  Maybe I can keep them like this and pass them off as some sort of avant-garde carpet , or I could just ball them all up together and shove them in the closet, it’s not like I’m ever going to actually use them.

  “You look really good in this style, let me see what we should try next.”

  You really shouldn’t lie to your mommy like that.

  Wait, I don’t want to be your mommy, don’t you dare crawl into my bed when I’m sleeping again.

  Just stop with the lies already, and the whole dress up thing while you're at it.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  “N-not done?”

  “Hmm, there are still a bunch of clothes we haven’t tried yet.”

  After saying that she stands on my bed and looks at our new carpet from above.

  How inconsiderate, she hasn’t washed those imaginary feet in weeks and she just stomps on my bed like that.

  Luckily, imaginary dirt is easy to get rid of.

  “I think this jeans and that shirt, maybe that jacket too.”

  Don’t just point at things like you expect me to fetch them, I am your doll, not your dog.

  “Those shoes as well.”

  Woof.

  Hmm, what I meant is that this is the last one I’m trying on.

  I should probably say that out loud, minus the woof part.

  “L-last one,O-okay?”

  “Why? Are you not having fun?”

  I really hate looking at my reflection, but I don’t really know how to explain it to Ami who spends every night looking at herself in the mirror.

  She claims to do it since it’s the only thing she can do while I sleep, but I think at least part of it is due to the fact that she is freaking beautiful.

  When my brain created her, it decided to completely ignore the concept of flaws.

  How can I make an aspiring narcissist like her understand what it’s like to look in the mirror and not be happy about what you see?

  Well, at least what I lack in terms of look, I make up for in social awkwardness.

  Oh right, that's not a good thing either.

  “You’re getting all quiet again. I can’t tell what you’re thinking if you don’t say anything.”

  “I-i…”

  I can’t think of words that will convey how I feel, and if I try to speak anyway, she will just brush my worries as meaningless.

  It’s always like that, the few words I manage to speak never really follow my intentions, and the person on the other side always seems to easily ignore them.

  There are many pictures of me hidden in this room, and looking at them has always made me feel bad.

  But no matter how much I tried to explain it to my mom or ask her to hang them somewhere else, she wouldn’t understand and would yell at me terribly whenever she noticed that I took them down and even made sure the mirror she forced on me can’t be taken down without some proper work tools.

  “Mai, you look like I’m going to kill you if you say the wrong thing. Youv’e gotten much better at talking lately, so just try to say some of what's going through your head like always and I’m sure I’ll understand. Or maybe not, you can be quite random at times, but I still won’t get mad at you or anything.”

  Too many words, how do you expect me to respond to that in three words or less, and who do you think you are calling your mommy random?

  Never mind, I decided I didn’t want that role.

  Well, I should probably trust her and get some of what’s going through my head out and we can move from there, anything will do.

  “W-woof.”

  Excellent choice of words if I may say so myself.

  She is laughing while looking at me.

  What was I thinking trying to be funny, it’s so embarrassing, it’s all her fault for calling me random.

  “Yeah, I can’t quite figure out how you got there.”

  The embarrassment is going to keep me up at night, so I could probably write a detailed explanation on this fiasco for you.

  “Well, you want to stop now?”

  Obviously the answer to that is woof… I mean yes, oh I’ll just nod to avoid any mistakes.

  “You don’t want to tell me why?”

  I don’t think I want to talk ever again after the whole barking thing, but I guess I should.

  “I-i don’t l-like…”

  “You don’t like dressing up?”

  “H-how I look.”

  “Hmm, I see. Well, I love how you look Mai, you are really pretty and you look super good in these clothes.”

  Of course she wouldn’t understand, guess I’ll have to suffer a little longer.

  “Well, can’t help it if you don’t like it, wouldn’t want to force you so lets move to the next event. Which of your clothes do you think would look good on me?”

  I don’t know if she understands how I feel, but at least she accepted it.

  “You have a big smile on your face all of a sudden, if you wanted to dress me up that badly you could’ve just said so. I get it though, who wouldn’t be excited with such a great model.”

  You can’t even wear any of them.

  That damn narcissist… Well, she is pretty great.