I had an imaginary friend called Obi
He was taller and older than me
He was dark in complexion with brown hair,
Which I later changed to white ’cause I like
white hair. He didn’t like it, but he kept it.

Obi liked it when it rained,
He knows all the answers to questions being thrown at me by people, but for some reason he chose to tell me only the ones I already know.
He can sing, act and crack good jokes but he’s not a good dancer. Infact his dance moves are terrible.

Sometimes I’d ignore him and pretend he wasn’t even in the room ’cause I knew he wasn’t real.
And whenever I do, he’d get mad and won’t speak to me for the rest of the day.
But no matter what happened, he’d wake me up the next day with a big grin on his face.

One day Obi didn’t wake me up.
I woke up with a piece of paper squeezed into my right hand that read just one word, “Grown.”
I haven’t seen Obi since then.

It was on the 14th of August, 2005.
The morning of my 8th birthday…

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