Let me be blunt. There's something a little off, when it comes to my life. I mean, in addition to the mother that left, and the father that doesn't do anything but yell, or assume I'm some sort of promiscuous girl when I stay out at the neighborhood café past nine. And maybe it's just my mind, looking for some sort of encouragement from someone other than friends I'd just met a year ago, but…

There's someone around. I don't know his name, or if he can actually be called a 'ghost', either. Maybe it's psychosis. But I don't think I care. He doesn't distract me from anything important. I still get chores and schoolwork done. I still have a 'normal' life, hang out with friends, and anything else. This figment of my imagination is nice to have around. Like a guardian angel of sorts.

I'll remember that my keys are in my room, turn to get them, and find them on the end table in the foyer instead, meaning I wouldn't have to head upstairs and find them. Or, there'll be a Post-It note, with neat handwriting that I know couldn't belong to my father, reminding me of something important that I've been putting off. If it's a figment of my imagination, then I guess I've got a really harmless version of a multiple personality disorder. If it's a stalker, then I guess I'll just be glad that he seems nice enough. A person that cares, in a house where no one does.

"Thanks again." I murmured before falling asleep, turning onto my side under the covers. I always hear a small "You're welcome" that seems to come from both nowhere and everywhere in the room. Disembodied. It's a shame I can never quite tell if it's real, or something my sleep-clouded mind created. The voice has personality to it, though. If it's been a stressful day at school, and I'm at my wit's end, the voice has a chuckle to it—as if my frustrations were childish. If I've been crying—as is often the case, when my father's around, it's got a twinge of pain to it, as if it felt how I did.

I don't know how to explain it, but I'm glad it's there. My own living (maybe), breathing (maybe), helping diary.