The Imaginary Friend

Do you remember that imaginary friend you used to have? The one you played with all the time and never got tired of? The one you talked to when things seemed so down all the time? Even if you think that you don't have one, you know you did. That is until your parents told you to knock it off. They tell you to stop thinking about him. Saying that he isn't real, you know?

They tell me, "You forget him every time you meet him. He's not real!"

That's just because they can't see him. His soft, dark eyes coupled with pale white skin. He's bald, of course but he's a really fun guy. He also wears a suit all the time and speaks in this deep, raggedy voice. Sometimes he makes a mistake and knocks over a few things at night but it's alright. He tends to be quiet about everything, you know. He's silent most of the time and I can never forget him. He just wants to play. I know he does. I know he's around whenever I feel this weird, tingling behind me; that odd shiver that crawls up your spine. It's weird, but he says it's alright, that us humans always do that, you know?

If you ever feel that then you know he's there with you. You may not see him, but he's there. He just wants to play.