For the hidden

I have this friend who at times because I found him to be more than who he thinks he is has left me completely to ponder whether or not he exists. Sometimes I actually think that I made him up in my brain. Like I am some kind of schizophrenic and the hours that I have spent in front of this damn computer writing poems about him and reading poems he writes and other words he write; it is a discinct possibility. My friends are all sick of his existence. They think if he does exist that he is crazy and that he has treated me unfairly and manipulatively. I say to them ok. Maybe. I do not know. I say he is afraid of me, as he is afraid of everyone else. Suppositions, observations or assumptions. Who really cares? We are talking about my emotions. I think if he does exist he should most likely be afraid of me. I have a terminal illness that while everyone seems to coat with cherry flavored cupcakes is a social stigma and psychological source of frustration. It is as one would call it my own freaking demon. I do not need anyone's advice at this point so keep your ten cents to your self. Im a fully functioning self aware, independent thinker who has needs just like any other dumb fuck on the planet. I on the other hand have complicated my life. I have chosen a path of self reflection, emotional responsibility, and love to be a major part of how I approach the world and make my way in it. Yeah with all that humility comes the psychological tortures. Its egomanical to believe that I am some kind of peaceful artist who wants to embue the healing powers of creativity and love onto others. So, in the spirit of Shiva...I also destroy it. I dream about suicide and torture. I revel in sadness and fall for people who in for all intesive purposes are some of the most selfish and self loathing people I encounter. I defy them with my persistence and punish myself with there inability to give anything. Anyway with all that being said. I have released that this paragraph of thought is just some selfish psychological masturbatory practice to understand and calm myself better. I have recently pretended to be an alcoholic for a few weeks. Im bored with that. It effected nothing : work, friends, or future. Alcohol has little power over me. Anyway. I think you are real: Whether in my mind or hidden in these words. And if its the parts of me that are hidden and then reflected through you. Then i pat myself on the back and say Im glad I learned to love myself so well.