My Imaginary Friend (Prologue)

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I get that a lot of children have imaginary friends. I get that these imaginary friends were meant to be forgotten in time. I get that, as old as I am now, I'm not supposed to see them anymore. That's why, as of two years ago, I'm to see a doctor at the mental hospital, or if you prefer, the Asylum. Since then, I've been dubbed the title of 'schizophrenia' or 'schizo' if you don't want to say the whole thing. It's been my nickname since my first year of high school when people found out about the whole thing. Yeah, when the school asshole jock saw me go to the Asylum, word spread pretty fast.

I'm supposed to go once a week to pick up my medications and talk to the doctor. I usually go on Tuesdays after work to keep a normal routine. Routine is supposedly supposed to help me with this "health problem" of mine but between you and me it's a load of bullshit. Sometimes I lie and say I haven't seen them at all when there's one sitting on his desk as I speak. Sometimes I say half-truths saying, 'I've only seen them once but it was out of the corner of my eye. It could have been a shadow now that I think about it.' I say it routinely enough that he probably doesn't buy it anymore but he doesn't press.

The meds I have to take are probably the worst part of it all. I'm used to seeing their grotesque faces, I'm used to lying to the doctor, and I'm used to being the city's weirdo beyond cause. I'm not used to swallowing that large-as-a-quarter pink pill and the effects of it. I only dare take it at night. The last time I took it in the morning, I ended up passing out in the garage and banging my head on the cement. Mom came home and saw me lying there and thought I had another thing wrong with me. Long story short, I skipped school and got rushed to the E.R.

I'm not really sure why I'm telling you all this. Maybe because I need someone to think I'm not really crazy. Whatever. I'm probably gonna go consult with my 'imaginary' friend, Disaster, on whether I'm crazy or not.

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