Friends With Myself

Story by Mackenzie Pratt // @mackenziealisep // she/her

Illustrations by Joanne Tsao // @jjjooannnee// she/her 

I thought in isolation I would be… well, isolated.

I was not prepared to be confronted by the roommate in my mind, showing up at the front door like a neglected pet in search of affection.

My time alone has become overcrowded, her and I grappling for control of the remote.

She’s suddenly around all the time, taking up permanent residence in my head. Maybe she’s always been there.

But now she’s making herself heard.

She has demands. Many of them. Always complaining we don’t eat enough healthy meals together, or that I never have time to go on a walk with her. She’s constantly wedging into my personal space, breaking those perfect morning silences and causing me to spill my coffee.

She gets angry too. Usually about something I’ve said to her.

It’s strange, discovering my words matter even when I’m alone.

I’ve never seen her as a real person. Only as someone pushing back at the thoughts swirling through my head in a constant stream.

But I’m starting to like her.

She’s a comforting presence now. I think I understand her.

We both just want a friend.

She has dreams for her future. Dreams that maybe I can fit into.

And spending time alone doesn’t result in a crushing sense of loneliness anymore.

Because she’s always there.

Waiting.

Without judgement. Without annoyance.

Ready to accept me as I am. All she wants is for me to do the same.

So I will.

And I do.