I love you, Jesse.

Short story.

The little girls feet swung backwards and forwards so majestically, from her squeaky, chain-hung seat. The little girls mind was too busy, defying the troubles of life, to notice that her swing had stopped swaying. The other kids watched as the little girl sat, in the rain, on the swing in its stillness. And they laughed.

The little girls parents were witness to this scene, and it caused them much stress and little heart-twangs. They jittered and jabbered and chattered of matters that only grown ups seem to chat amongst themselves.

I saw the little girl, sitting in silence, and swinging her feet in the rain. And I saw her parents who muttered and mumbled, about bullies and how their little girls hurt was causing them pain. So I stumbled and clambered and stuttered as I fumbled my way through the slippy, squelchy grass, and I sat on the swing next to her swaying feet and I asked if say bullies bothered her too much. And she turned to me, glaring, with this sad glisten in her eyes and she said, "yes, it's the most awful thing. The bullies are causing my parents heart ache, because, they think that, said bullies are hurting me. But I am only hurt by the fact they think I'm hurt. And, see, I know bullies only bully because they're hurt themselves. And I am quite lonely, knowing every body's hurting, over the subject of my pain, when i was never hurt at all. Simply swinging in the rain, thinking 'bout life and stuff."

And I looked at the girl in amazement, and she welcomed my gaze with no blinks, and I told her that "'happy is contagious' so let's swing, and smile, and their pain can be fixed." The tip of her lip smirked a right sided smile and her smile slowly turned to a grin. And she grun as she swung after taking my hand and said "k, lets swing, till the sun shines!" Higher and higher and higher we went as she giggled and babbled with glee.

She shouted across, "what's your name, swinger?" And I told her "my name is Jesse, and I'm friends with the girl who turned rain to sun." And she looked up, as I did, to see the sky clearing and birds sawing swiftly through the blue. And she opened her mouth with a shock, gasping, gazing at me, vacantly, as if she'd witnessed a magician wave a magic wand.

Before she left that day, waddling away, between her parents hands, she squeezed me tight and told me, "I love you, Jesse." And I looked at the bluey greanish grey around the sparkling in her eyes and told her, "swinger, I love you too."

And as she grew, our friendship grew too.

And as she changed, our friendship changed too.

But, though we smiled, their piles of laughs and smiles, they all changed soon. They turned deranged, and faded, faces pale, concerned, mentally burnt and bruised. And it's time, i have to face it, I'm the reason swingers parents always look confused. I'm no longer needed here, it's time I learnt what hurt feels like. And so I turn to her, so blue, and tell her, "swinger, I love you. But I came to stop the hurt and now my world is hurting you. I've got to leave, cuz they can't see me, hear or understand my humanity and they're afraid I'm the main cause of you losing your sanity. Your youth was a splendid pleasure, since the swing we've always been together but now it's time to go. Mum says you're too old for an imaginary friend. It's got to end." And the little girl, who once swung in the rain, who's now grown and her happy is never contained, cuz she learnt once that happy is oh so conta-gous.... She turned to me, glaring, with a sad glisten in her eyes, and said, simply, "I love you, Jesse. Thank you, and, goodbye."