I used to have these two friends, Vince and Matt. We were great buddies. We used to hang out together the whole time. They weren’t imaginary, if that’s what you’re thinking. I was. I was the imaginary one. I can see now that I was using my friends to construct an identity for myself. Maybe they worked that out – maybe they found out that I was using them and that’s why they moved on. It doesn’t sound very nice when you put it like this, does it? There’s no point in trying to dress it up as something it wasn’t. The relationship was a one-way street just as all of my relationships are. So-called relationships. What a joke it all is. I’ve nothing to give, you see. I’ve nothing to give because I’m not really here.

I remember the good times we used to have, though. The fun we used to have. Everything’s so damn serious these days. Life’s generally serious, I suppose, when you’re a product of your own imagination trying to prove that you’re not. Playing a losing game. Keeping up a front. Hanging in there trying to delay the inevitable.

Now that’s a great game, isn’t it? Now that I come to think about it. Delaying the old inevitable. Aah yes how well I know that game. That old, old game. Delaying the bloody old inevitable. Only you mustn’t ever let yourself know that it’s inevitable. You’ve got to stay positive. You’ve got to keep on telling yourself that it’s all going to work out. The whole thing about playing this particular game is that not only must you do your utmost to keep on delaying the inevitable, you also have to do your utmost to keep yourself from seeing what you’re doing. It’s a war that’s fought on two fronts – only it’s all the same front really. It’s an imaginary front. It’s a front of the imagination.

Flogging a dead horse, isn’t that what they call it? No need to go on about it so much I suppose. We all know this one. Do we ever. Yeah, yeah, yeah put a sock in it, you’re probably thinking. Get over it. Move on for Christ’s sake. Or maybe you aren’t thinking that at all. How would I know, after all? All I have are my thoughts. I’m just imagining that this is what you would be saying to yourself. Imagination’s a fine thing they say. Isn’t it great to have a bit of imagination?

It’s all so incongruous. That this – and only this – should constitute reality for me. How could that be? Maybe reality itself is an error, a malfunction. Or maybe the error is me and I’m doomed to keep on repeating that error, over and over again. I’m doomed to keep on repeating myself. I’m ALWAYS repeating myself. I keep on thinking that it’s reality which is the error. I keep on thinking that it’s reality which is the error because I can’t bear to see the truth. That’s a lot to see, after all. That’s a big ask. We can own up to little things – perhaps – but we can’t own up to the Big Thing. Some things are just too big. That’s an infallible mechanical law, wouldn’t you say? That’s an inverted restatement of the Big Lie principle, only it’s to do with the lies we tell ourselves. It’s a very simple mechanical law that keeps us super-effectively trapped in an upside-down reality bubble. A bubble of the imagination. No mechanical law was ever more effective. Some things are just too big to see, don’t you think?