24th January 2016-

The First Letter.

Flopping onto a chair, you grabbed your phone to read some fanfiction but the words were blurring and your head was aching like you had just stepped out of a seventies music concert.

"It's a horrid unwell day when even reading doesn't cheer you up."

"Is it weird that I am not even shocked that I m talking t myself? No. I do that, I always have and no matter what Mom and Dad say, it is not crazy. I am just thinking aloud. Right?"

Moaning you let your head fall onto the table (as much as it hurt, you had to admit the bang was satisfying, until the noise reached your eardrums), sluggishly lifting one hand to rub under your burning left eye.

Your hand itched, muscles twitching and all you wanted to do was write, let your worry, tension, and the irritating migraine born of six hours of algebra and sin thetas and Pythagoras theorems, flow away with words but you didn't want to continue any of your works in progress, original or otherwise. Oh, the ideas were there, but you just did not feel like doing anything. Those days, you were not just lazy and constantly tired; you were on the verge of fainting from exhaustion and un-inclined to do anything.

"I don't want to do anything and yet boredom sounds positively nauseating and sleep has decided to abandon me."

Complaining to the empty room, you began tying. Andrea and Jason have been left staring at each other long enough you decided but when you started to type, different words flew out.

"How very Charlie of me," you thought before typing with a smile.

Dear Imaginary Friend,

Hello and welcome, because with this letter, I ask you to please, please step into my skin and live my life for a while. Escape your reality and indulgene in mine.

Imaginary friend, you thought, a lazy grin curving your lips. Mother would flip if she saw this, you realized. You could almost see her, hands on her hips and eyes narrowed, as she pointed a knife in your direction.

"Imaginary friend? You have gone crazy! You need to leave fairy tales behind! Children grow up, they become mature and start thinking of careers and futures and getting married, but what have I got? Imaginary friends! I used to say this would happen, didn't I say that she needs a dose f reality? Talking to herself, reading fanfiction, wanting to be an author! Not every author is successful! You aren't even that good, but, no, she wants to starve! Writing is a good part-time job only! Instead of solving sums or studying science, she is talking to people who don't exist! Lord, save me from modern kids. This is not how you come first in ICSE! You have to burn the mid night lamp, forget everything for a while and just study. Forget eating, sleeping, playing everything! I know writing a book is your dream, well, do it then, write the book. That's great! But academics are more important, understand?"

Sighing, you shook your head. Dwelling on Mother's ideas of what you should or should not do in life would only serve to add to that migraine.

Having decided that you do not need any more drunk dwarves partying in your skull, you turned your attention back to the document sitting innocently on your laptop screen and once more, the siren song of keys filled the room.

You cannot recall having an invisible friend as a child, so here and now might be that phase of your life. It did not seem t be a bad idea, having a friend, someone who would listen without judging, someone who would accept you for yourself. No obligations. Just someone who you could vent to without any second thoughts.

"But what if someone found the letters?"

That thought should have stopped you cold. You had never wanted to hurt anyone but what if your innermost feelings did cause grief or what if they made people mistrust you? But it would be so easy to pass them for fiction you realized and doing a complete three sixty to your usually cautious self, you let the words go. The cold never bothered you anyway.

Why am I writing to you? Because, I need someplace to vent , someone to feel close to and find a way to enter my head and sort out the confusion there. Shelve the books in their proper sections and untabgle the yarn of memories, dreams, hopes, ambition and addition, most famous authors and loads of my favourite fictional characters had some form of journal. If it makes me a better writer at no ones exepense, well thenwhat stops me? A teeny road block. I suck at maintaining dairies. But I am a huge chatter box, everyone who knows me well wiltestify to the fact and a good spell recipe? Combine what you are good stand what you wish to do but are pants at. So, here we are. imagination, ink, you and I. Sounds like a corny from con title, but who doesn't love rom coms? I do, love romantic comedies I mean.

Now , I know, I should be "showing" and not "telling" you things about myself if I want to do this the writer way, like instead of writing, I am too weird and too awkward for most people to feel comfortable around because i tend to talk to myself and am a huge buy slightly shy at first and really crazy once you get to know me fangirl, I should write it like an episode. Let us try, okay?

"Fictional characters are real! We believe in them, so they are. maybe they are real only in our imaginations and breathe on paper and ink or maybe we are all stories and someone in another universe is writing and tellingand leading our lives and yet giving us the autonomy to choose our paths. Perhaps this is a world where documents of other worlds are. Maybe, they are real because we learn from them and absorb their traits into us. Maybe they are histories which have tuned into legend. I feel that, yes, normal is relative and amazing and this crazy is my normal and I love it, overrated or not, just like I love curly hair and words. Because normal, excuse my crazy grammar, is boring. Be extraordinary, an angel with a shotgun, a Nephilim and a demigod and everything. Be you." My hands are flying about as I speak, hair curling and frizzibg, brown eyes wide behind my geek glasses which have slipped onto my nose. The others are staring at me, expressions ranging from utter boredom to interest as I shift under their gaze and duck my head,pushing up the extra pair of eyes and hitting my tongue as it peaks out of my mouth before it starts running with me again.

"And its not like you have evidence that they don't live. The universe is a wide wide place and anything is posibel, I mean can you imagine our ancestors with these? With trails all over again. Hey. Now there's an idea. A time traveller being burnt at stake because of modern tech! So, do you guys like it? Wait, am I being self centered? I hope not but do tell. Oh, you got to go? Have a great day! See, you tomorrow."

The award shuffle is back in full foce. And I bite my lip. Did I say too much? Oh gods, I should have kept silent, I think, twirling a finger in my braided hair.

" Wow, you sure can talk a lot, can't you, See? And last year, Miss Reader, was so shy. Buried behind books!"

" Well, I thought she was sassy and fun despite the braids and she is. And she does have the ability to talk to herself, can practically hold conversations. Wait, I will show you," she proclaimed.

A/N - This is just a portion or a teaser of the next chapter which I decided to post because ifs my birthday and I wanted to treat you all for reading. My exams are on, but I will try my best to update asap. Do review. Happy Holi or whatever special thing it is when you are reading! Thanks for reading and the support. Please review. It's my birthday and reviews are the best present. Flames, criticism and everything else is welcome.