Little Kitty Cat

He didn't exactly have a name, but I knew that he belonged to me. I was the only one who was able to see him.

He was always cautious, careful not to get too close.

He would sprint frantically next to the car as we drove down the streets, terrified that I may be abandoning him. But I would never.

And I would get out of the car, and be attacked with his bounds of love. But others only saw me rolling on the ground squealing with joy over nothing they could understand.

He gave me courage, the ability to stand up to people at school, because I had this big creature ready to pounce, standing behind me at all times.

Nobody else really understood though. And I didn't understand why they wouldn't acknowledge him.

But I was glad too, because that meant that he was only mine.

Growing up, I had my imaginary cat, that gave me the ability to do whatever I wanted. But as I got older he turned into more than a cat, and less of my friend.

Friends can turn to enemies, and that's what he did. He made me become scared and afraid, and do things I didn't want to do. We had to lock him away, under the chains of medications and therapies.

He's gone now, but every once in a while, I can still hear his cry from the dungeon of my mind, begging me to release him, give him control again.