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Rated: E · Short Story · Relationship · #2231725
A imaginary friend I’ve had for quite sometime.
Usually children have invisible friends when they are young, and once they get older they fade away. When I was younger I did not have that much. Around the age of twelve is when I encountered a new person in my life. He was originally a character I made up for a television show I enjoyed, so I could mix him up with the other characters. But from then on he popped up in many other stories, and even real life. He became a part of me. He has many names, identities, and personalities, depending on the occasion, and rarely ages. Normally ranging from between seventeen to early thirty’s. Just recently I had found him around the age of five. Which was odd and terrifying. He was having a bad dream, I had hung up a phone call to comfort him. Whatever it was, the way he described it made me cry. I felt him, in my arms, and his tears falling onto me. He is complicated, but very gentle and sweet once you get to really know him. He doesn’t let anyone in, but for me? Yes. We are not lovers. We are friends down to the bone, and we would do anything to protect each other. He is one with me after all. I have a type of personality, it may have come from him. I recently acquired it around the same time I met Jake. Maybe he is the reason I have this new way of thinking. Maybe the things he has done made me think this way. I’ve asked, but he does not know and just brushes it off. He is lonely and sad, but when I come around he is filled with joy and knows that I am here for him. Even if I do roast the hell outta him, he smiles, and I am dearly in love with that smile.
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