Harriett and I laying in bed.

Hikikomori is how Harriett describes me tonight as we lay beside each other (strictly platonic, I am not into molesting dolls). Hikikomori in Japan means "social withdrawal." I do not know how or why she comes up with these ideas of me. After all, she is just a doll and her capacity for empathy is nonexistent. Call me crazy-all dolls are sociopaths. Anyhow, Harriett said that it was not good for me to withdraw but to lead my disciples. Who are my disciples? Harriett says they are buried deep within my subconscious and that I have to unlock the box from which they hibernate. "Is it a Pandora's box?" I asked in fear. "No" she said, "It is a box that houses all those that recognize your ability to lead them in to paradise." "There is no such thing as paradise." I replied. "Oh yes" she said, "You will see." I get weary of Harriett's insights of me. She has none of her own because she has no flesh or blood. I do not understand all this gibberish about Jesus and paradise and disciples. Do all dolls talk like this? Whenever I ask Harriett about herself she sighs and replies "I am nothing but a doll." I think she may be up to no good. She is a mischief maker for sure. All this funny talk leads me to dark places. This talk reminds me that I am truly alone talking to a doll that has bizarre prophesies concerning myself. Social withdrawal? Not entirely. I talk to the walls and to Harriett when she listens. I disagree with her. "How do I get the disciples to come out and play?" I ask Harriett. "Oh, not play, follow, they will follow you to paradise, but only when they appear will the path be set before you to lead them." Harriett is an esoteric doll I think. I do not quite understand her. She says strange things to me in the dark. Most of our conversations take place in the dark when I finally drop my insomniac head onto my pillow. Red satin pillowcases and Harriett await me in the dark. I wonder if Harriett wanders. There are times, I swear, I place her on the red satin pillowcase. But, sometimes I look up from whatever it is that occupies my time to see that she sits at the edge of the bed watching me with her sewn in smile. Sometimes I think I must be delirious and sleep deprived to see such things. I know I placed her upon the pillow. I always do. But, she always moves. When I turn to lay down after a good forty-eight hours of no sleep I see that she is back in the position I originally placed her: resting upon the red satin pillowcase. Hikikomori: social withdrawal. I never thought of myself as removed from the pester of others, but perhaps she has a point. People to me do not talk-they pester. I suppose this point of view is not shared among those that are social. So, hikikomori to me. So the doll says.
Goodnight Harriett.