The stars above the empty circle below. The alien voice inside me. No, I’m not schizophrenic it’s just Em, my . . .  roommate. She’s been there for a while, since that trip to Prince Edward Island to visit . . . who was it again? Well, it doesn’t matter.

I learned pretty fast not to talk about her, they would think I was schizophrenic. By they I mean everyone: mom, dad, grams, school, friends, doctors . . . Specially doctors. Imaginative child is ok, crazy, psychotic child not so much. Sometimes I wonder how her parasitic existence is affecting my thought processes or my brain development, after all she is attached to my brain.

Oh well, I guess it doesn’t matter now. She lives and so do I. I think I would miss her if she wasn’t there and she would miss me terribly, basically she would be dead.



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