A Note From Your Imaginary Friend


Hello sweetheart, it's me, your imaginary friend. I know we haven't talked in a while but like it or not, I'm apart of your brain and I see everything that goes on in your life. No, no don't back away, don't deny or smile and say everything is great. You don't have to pretend with me. Play time stops when you walk out of those green doors and your real self transforms when you're with me. We've had a lot of fun times together. The worlds we explored could have sent Neverland and Wonderland crying. We dined out as princesses and ventured shallow brawls. We performed as grand trapeeze artists, though the floor never seemed to break our fall. We disguised ourselves as the great wonders, as the heriones of our own cute little tales: the angelic witch, the timid half girl half tiger, the mysterious yet utterly intizing damsel from a far. But when the phones and cliques came, our play time was cut short. Yea, you would dream, but the story would only stretch so far until you had to smile to your fake friends and keenly say oh sorry, i was just being stupid. I watched you transform from your little bucktooth self to the very tall tall girl you are today. And I've watched the beauty of your dreams crumble on a single word command. Truth was you traded castles for acceptance, you traded fantasy for someone's rare laugh. You traded the odd worlds we both grew to love just for the small chance of real, actual romance. But you and I both know that that didn't go too well because you weren't designed like them. Your ambition didn't stop at popularity. And while maybe for a short time you convinced yourself you were loved, high school came and you quickly learned they were doing nothing but playing nice. And yes while you blushed at the rarity of  a simple compliment or leaped at every oppurtunity for human contact other than your mom or dad, your self esteem quickly crumbled at every turn of a back or every awkward silence that was left solely because you just weren't that interesting. And now you walk the halls with the same stupid grin. You put on the same mask with the carefree love everybody attitude. And only I know your smile fades at every affection left undone. That you grow weary at every word that is promised and every action that will never follow up. You scramble to people you call your friends, but you and I both know that you still feel alone. And in attempt to rejoice your dreams, you bombard your head with pop culture movies and old comicbooks. Because it is with them, that you feel alive. It is only there where you find actual proof of human love and compassion. And so you keep dream, dream, dreaming and you will waste your breath on every eyelash, candle,  and flower that comes your way. I know you look at our old stories and think we were pathetic. That If there is such a thing as adventure, it will miss you by a mile. If there is a real thing as magic, it will land in that bitch's hands. If there is such a thing as love, then it will gear its way towards a girl who does not want it. You are left on the outside without the decency to be called the underdog. So what I'm really doing here is to beg you to not to suppress. To not give up or drop out because this twisted game is not over and just because you aren't their first choice doesn't mean they won't look back and regret it later. I know you are tired of waiting for a climax when your story is still stuck in the introduction. I know you want to stop dreaming fiction and just let SOMETHING happen. I know you are down and out because you think your skin is a cloak of invisible. But I hear your whispers and I hear your cries. I see your face for what it is and see your eyes the moment they long for something more. So this is just a note to help you stay and make you know that your imagination can carry on. And when life disappoints yet again and again, I will be here living your adventures dreamnt of time and time again. I'll do you a solid and give it to you plainly and honestly, like no one ever will. -No, he doesn't think of you that way. -No, she doesn't actually mean it. -Yes, God does hate you.- And lastly No, this isn't just some really fucked up experiment. So hush little darling, dry your tears in your thoughts and keep on pushing until life pops out. 


This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


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