Jessica's Dolls

One day

I found Jessica with
Sewing supplies strewn all over the floor.

I noticed that the
Particular project in her hand
Looked like a miniature version
Of someone I know
And around her, on the floor
Were more dolls:
My boyfriend,
My parents,
And others in my life

I asked her what she was making,
And she told me she was making friends
Because she wanted to have friends
Like I do.

"You see," she said,
Plunging her needle into the
Fabric flesh of her latest creation,
"I'm taking the images of the
People I see through your eyes
Capturing them,
Keeping them,
And making them mine.

"For a while,
I will dress them up however I want,
Put them wherever I please,
And make them say anything I want to hear,
Until they come to life on their own."

"But, they aren't real," I tried to explain,
"They live in your imagination,
And imaginary things don't come to life."

"You weren't real once.
Yet, you feel alive, don't you?
And I wasn't real when you imagined me--"

"But that's just it!
You're imaginary,
You aren't real!"

She giggled and said as she continued sewing,
"You're no more alive that I am
And no less imaginary."


(Sometimes, I just don't understand her.)

Author's Note

Jessica is one of my imaginary friends. She's the closest one. I consider her my "inner child".