I have been living with my invisible friend, Suzanne "Suzie" Ponderosa, for nearly my entire college career and we are moving into a new apartment on Saturday, just like nearly everyone else living in Monty. She came into my life sometime in spring two years ago when I accidentally bumped into her in my dorm and since then she's followed me everywhere because I am apparently the only one who believes she exists.
She became invisible in 2005 when she was on an experimental drug kick.
She's plagued my life with her invisible booze-guzzling and pot-smoking and often has blind guys over for one-night-stands. She even followed me to France. I suppose calling her my invisible friend isn't entirely accurate, though she has grown on me. Luckily she's anorexic so I don't have to worry about buying her any food.
But friend or otherwise, Suzie Ponderosa is undeniably quite real. She's invisible, not imaginary...which brings me to the juicy part.
You see, I caught her referring to me as her imaginary friend. Please bear in mind that visibility and realness aren't necessarily corelated, and even if they were, corelation doesn't by any means prove causation. If Suzie's drug-addled words hold any truth then I am the imaginary friend of an invisible person, and she is the invisible friend of an imaginary person.
I know I come into direct contact with real people every day, but then again so do a lot of imaginary phenomena. Like Santa Claus. He hangs out at malls around Christmastime, doesn't he? And the Pizza Fairy shows up on the Sunday of Finals Week without fail. At least during the normal school year.
My proof lies within my conscience. If I am imaginary that means that my internalized conscience is also imaginary. It isn't there. Ergo, I outsource Lauren Rasmussen, who is very real, as my proxy conscience. If I need to outsource in order to have a real conscience, that proves that I must be a figment of Suzie's--or SOMEBODY'S--imagination.
And anyone who knows me can vouch that a lot of the crazy stunts I do are too insane to possibly be real. It's why I get away with as much as I do. Maybe if I prove to the Blue Fairy that I can be brave, loyal, trustworthy, and all that jazz, I can become a real boy someday.
If this entry has thoroughly confused anyone, then clearly I'm doing my job right.