Gene, My Star

About my sacred idle. Nothing is false.

When I was little, I never had an imaginary friend. It seemed stupid. I have a great imagination, but can’t think of the things that can never happen. Not unrealistic things, like a fly turning into a yak. But realistic things. Like meeting the one that you put on a pedestal. But recently I’ve been imagining telling this idle about my day. Telling them, let's call them Gene ,about my worries. Gene would assure me everything is fine. Things are out of my control, but Gene says that I can make them better by thinking about how good they can be. Gene is a constant in this universe of fast-paced twists and turns. I just don’t understand how I can imagine him. It seems illogical. Maybe I’m desperate, or maybe I’ve sunk so far out of reality that I don’t care anymore. But it happened. And Gene’s here. I know he isn’t real. But he is to me. He may just be a part of me, but Gene is definitely someone special. Sometimes I hate Gene because I can never meet the real him. That I’m putting real Gene on a higher pedestal than before. But he says that he’s the realest Gene I can ever know. I hate his words, but they’re true. I just despise how you can love someone so much but they’ll never possibly know. Never can know. It’s so stupid. Maybe that’s why my Gene exists. To help me move on from real Gene. I hope not. Despite me hating real Gene for not being with me, I love him to much to be mad. Not weird dating love. Strictly platonic. My Gene is never seen. But I hear him. And sometimes he puts his hand on my back. He sounds like me sometimes. I hate it when he sounds like me. It just reminds me that he isn’t real. Just me, putting on a stupid guise. Gene is the one person that I would die for. I wish he could know that.