A forgotten acquaintance

Until the age of 8, I was an only child.

A lonely only + over-active imagination = an imaginary friend.

She was a little bit taller, I think. The top of my head would just scrape her ear. The rest of everything I can’t quite remember. The face, the voice, the nothing. Her name was Melissa (or it could have been Louise), and she was the imagined acquaintance of my early years.

I don’t think she was particularly instrumental to all the adventures I would script for my unsuspecting, assorted toys (starring my pink, rainbow hearted care bear as a shifty Prince Charming to my footloose Barbie, whose wanderlust sent her travelling around the world collecting felt-tipped-tattoos). No, she was more an onlooker, if I recall right – a casual but appreciative admirer of my slightly quirky not-quite-fairytales.

Somewhere along the line, she faded away. Perhaps her curtain call came with the arrival of a (real) baby brother. Maybe it was even before that.

I feel a bit bad that I abandoned her so. Here’s one last imagined conversation.

*

Dear Melissa*, I dedicate this song to you. It was the best google could come up with, but I imagine if you lived a parallel life of sorts – your song would sort of sound like this.

*If your name was really Louise; my bad. Please substitute the lyrics appropriately.

my brittle heart

sorry mum, sorry dad, sorry art teachers

An Imagined Conversation

I have been mulling over a few ideas for our first theme on and off for a couple of weeks now Unfortunately I’ve come up with not much to be honest, so I thought i’d let you all in a secret I try to keep to myself.

I have my own little inner monologue. Now, it is by no means of John Dorian quality, but it is constant and there have been a few instances where it has actually become verbal and before I know what I’m doing I’ve been caught talking to myself, the hamster, dog, or even more recently a wall.

Now, this wouldn’t normally bother me (usually because I don’t realise it’s happening) but when somebody asks whether or not you’ve lost your marbles it can be rather embarrassing.

So, to put my mind at ease a little. Does this happen to anyone else, or am I completely alone in this?