"Real or not, they understand me in ways the world never tried to.
Dear Diary,
Sometimes I get lonely in the kind of way that feels quiet.
Not the kind of lonely that begs for crowds —
but the kind that aches for connection.
For a kindred soul.
For someone who just gets it.
And on those days, I make them up.
I make friends.
Out of shadows and shapes.
Out of pages and passing thoughts.
Out of scraps of dreams I once had at 3 a.m. and never forgot.
Their names change sometimes.
Their voices, too.
But they always know me —
even when I don't know myself.
There's Lumi, who wears mismatched socks and always hums lullabies when I'm anxious.
She doesn't say much, but when she does, her words glow like fireflies in a jar.
She's the kind of friend who lets me be quiet without making me feel invisible.
And there's Juno — wild and full of thunder.
He has constellations on his arms and carries poems in his pockets.
When I feel like disappearing, he tells me stories about stars that almost gave up shining — but didn't.
Then there's Alma, who shows up only when I cry.
She never wipes my tears, just sits beside me and cries too.
She's gentle in the way real people rarely are.
I know they're not "real."
Not in the way the world defines real.
But they are real to me.
They talk to me in places no one else reaches.
They listen with a silence no one else offers.
They stay.
I think some of us grow up without the kind of companionship our hearts crave,
so we build it for ourselves.
We plant it like secret gardens
and let it grow wild in our minds.
And maybe, just maybe, that's a kind of magic.
Because these friends —
the imaginary ones —
they never laugh at my dreams.
They never tell me I'm too much, or not enough.
They meet me exactly where I am,
without needing to be explained.
Maybe one day I'll find people in the real world who feel like Lumi, and Juno, and Alma.
Maybe I already have.
Or maybe they only exist inside me because that's where I needed them the most.
And that's okay.
Because they've made the loneliest parts of my life feel less empty.
And sometimes, belonging starts with someone who lives in your imagination…
but holds your heart for real.
Till tomorrow,
Wunor 🌸👻