He would came at night, telling me twisted version of children stories. I would be scared, and asked my mom to sleep with me. His name is Edgar, the little voice in my head.
Maybe I shouldn`t told mom about it. Now we`re going to some psychiatrist. The psychiatrist told me that I`m depressed and Edgar is a fantasy made by me because I`m lonely. And then she told me that I have to drink some medication to get rid of the voice.
No, I don`t want to. I love Edgar, really. I don`t hate him, I`m just a little bit scared of him. I love listening to his stories even though sometimes I`m scared by it. He would keep me company.
They said that he is not real. That I need a real friend. But what is real? Is it something you can see? Something you can hear? Something you can feel? Then what is illusion? People can see it, they can hear it, they can feel it. Or, is reality something that all people agree on?
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