Imaginery friends

Someone asked me today if I had an imaginary friend…

Boy, could I do with an imaginary friend now! This grown up thing is not all it is cracked up to be.

There is a lot more to be had than dealing with job, shelter and love of all creatures large and small.

It is dealing with expectations that is the killer.

Am I expected to know it all by 30? Should I be worried that I haven’t quite figured out the work-life balance? Should I care that I am not the person I thought I would be when I was in school?

I shed ideals for reality. I make compromises for practical reasons. And I fall into bad habits that wake me with a guilty reminder as rigid as my alarm clock.

I take shortcuts. I let people kill the kid in me to get a serious dollar go further. I stop playing to ease a mind that worries me far beyond the day ahead. I lose the passion for people’s plights a world away from me.

I stop fighting. I let go.

But I haven’t given up.

So this imaginary friend pops up in the most appropriate situations to remind me. I do have a choice. I wasn’t born with a manual or a contract.

I was dealt an ever-changing card of hands. There is a bit of a gamble, along with lady luck who makes an short-lived appearance. But I am still in the game.