I have an imaginary friend. His name is Will. He keeps me sane, gives me hope.

I was sad this one night. I needed somebody to embrace me. So, I pretended this faceless guy was holding me.

His visits eventually became more frequent, because I kept on aching for a hug. I decided he needed a name. So, I named him Will.

I never gave him any physical features. It never mattered. I didn't need him to be tall, dark or handsome. I was satisfied by the fact that he kept me warm.

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When I close my eyes and pretend that he's hugging me, I can actually feel his warmth. Sometimes, I can smell him. He smells like menthol soap and cherry flavoured jam. He holds my cheeks and traces circles on my cheekbones.

He holds me when I am crying. He quiets my sobs. He says that it's okay. He knows exactly what to say, probably because he is a fragment of my imagination. He's better than any reality I could ever have.

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He tells me.

Sometimes, he strolls beside me when I'm walking home. He knows that I get afraid. He keeps me company. He's my knight in invisible armour.

Sometimes, he sits beside me on the ferry ride home. He listens to music. He soothes me more than the sea breeze does. He is more real than the ocean waves and the blue of the sky.

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I don't like my face. I hate my chin and the ugliest of the things that my eyes do when I smile. I hate the shape of my cheeks, but most of all, I hate the expressions I make. I hate the way my almost hairless eyebrows arch up and squirm differently for each and every weird-ass expression I make. He doesn't tell me that they are beautiful, that I am beautiful. I don't want to hear that. I know I am not. He tells me that it doesn't matter.

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When people want to ask me out, they say that my peculiarities are beautiful, my quirks amuses them. Otherwise, I'm just a boring freak. I feel like an overly introverted basket case who cannot look people in the eye. A ball of negative energy who just cannot love herself. Will is the part of me who does. He loves me. He provides me with the confidence that keeps me going.

I'm always either too cheerful or too depressed. Too loud or too quiet. Too bitchy or too nice. Too fat. too lame, too mean, too dark, too negative, too scared, too scary. It's never good enough. I'm never good enough. I don't fit in anywhere. I just wanna find a home. He is home, my safe haven. He is my friend. I belong with him and to him.

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...and I did.

Will is afraid. He is afraid he's haunting me. He thinks that he is a cry for help.

He wants to fade away. I want to fade away with him. He's not just a voice in my head.

He's real.

He's as real as I am.

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