[ WP ] You 've fallen in love with your imaginary friend .

For me, it was never imaginary. 
 
 
 It started out simple, as most relationships do. Looking back, it's clear that the roots of our friendship, and later our love, lay in a mutual need. At a young age I was very emotionally isolated. I found it hard to break out of my mental shell and connect with those around me; and then I met her. She understood me on a level that no other person did, or possibly could. 
 
 
 The early years were some of the best. In grade school we were surrounded by like-minded children with imaginary friends of their own. Of course, none of us could truly see or interact with eachother's `` friends,'' but kids have never let such trivialities destroy their make-believe worlds. We all played together during recess, while the teachers looked upon our relationships as typical childhood fantasies. The acceptance of our peers and unassailable confidence of youth shielded our relationship from the cold logic of adulthood, allowing it to grow and blossom into an unwavering friendship. 
 
 
 As time went by and kids began to abandon their imaginary friends, our relationship only grew stronger. When we would have conversations, the other kids around us would throw puzzled glances in her direction, whispering and giggling amongst themselves. 
 
 
 `` Weirdo. Freak. Crazy.'' The early acceptance of our peers turned quickly to mockery and contempt. At first I was crestfallen at the prospect of once again slipping into loneliness, but through her reassurances refused to let them get to me. In pushing us out of their social circles, she pointed out, their cruelty only served to strengthen our devotion to one another. 
 
 
 Most of high school was spent in isolation, though I would hardly have called it that myself. As childhood transitioned into adulthood, along with the usual awkwardness and uncertainty, we were together at all times. Love did n't blind side us, like you so often see in Hollywood. No, it crept up on us slowly, casually, so that by the time we had fallen deeply for one another, it was no surprise. Of course, there was never any possibility of physicality in the relationship ( though I'd be lying if I said we did n't try ), but our love was more like the contented love of a much older couple. While most teenagers were out dating anyone they could for the chance of `` hooking up,'' we already had the relaxed intimacy of a lifetime of love. As much as I enjoyed the early years, these were the happiest times of my life. 
 
 
 To my dismay, it all fell apart once college came into the picture. Finally the cynicism and the cold sterility of the adult world drove a wedge between us. 
 
 
 `` How are you still single?'' they would ask. `` You've really never been in a relationship before?'' The questions were incessant, picking away little by little at the foundations of our love. They could never understand what we had together. They would see it as some sort of insanity to be burned away with their drugs and their therapy. We started speaking to one another less frequently, and even when we did, the exchanges were usually brief and devoid of substance. I could tell it was killing her, but what could I do? 
 
 
 By the time Freshman year was through, it had all fallen apart. Another love had come into the equation - a `` real'' person and a `` real'' relationship, just like everyone else. Over time, she stopped speaking to me completely, though I know she still thinks of me on occasion. You see, imaginary friends never really go away. I've returned to my mental shell, watching the world through her eyes from my quiet isolation. She does n't feel she needs me anymore, but I could not exist without her. I know she will always look back on it as nothing more than a youthful fantasy, but me? I've never felt so real. 
 
 *edit for formatting.
