My Imaginary Friends Don’t Talk To Me

By Peter Harris

Apparently,

I'm meant to feel "whole" on my own.

Which is hilarious,

because I misplace parts of myself

on my way from the kitchen to the couch.

They say,

“You’re never truly alone

when you have yourself.”

That's cute.

Tell that to my echo.

I’ve tried the self-companionship thing.

I asked my reflection how its day was.

It sighed and walked out of frame.

Some support.

The walls have ears?

Then they must be noise-cancelling,

because I haven’t heard a single

"there there"

or

"you got this."

The clock ticks like it’s mocking me.

The kettle whistles for no one.

Even the dust bunnies won’t start a conversation.

Bloody cowards.

Yes, I love myself.

Yes, I know I'm enough.

But loving yourself

isn't the same

as being loved

by someone else.

I can't tell if other people are deluded or if I am.

I don't feel an over abundance of companionship

when I am in my own company.

My imaginary friends don't talk to me.

Do yours?

And unrelated question...

Have you taken your medication this morning?

And before you tell me to

“just enjoy your own company,”

let me say this:

I do.

He's very polite.

Bit quiet.

Never answers back.

Not really a strong conversationalist though.

I'm just saying,

If you feel alone, when you are alone,

That's probably cause you're alone.

Right?

That's just common sense.

Maybe we'd feel less lonely 

If we acknowledged the need

to maintain connections.

To grow community and meet new friends.

To keep making effort for old friends.

To make love with someone who's already proven

they're worthy, and not in the hopes they might.

When we stop choosing imaginary friends 

Over real ones.

By Peter Harris