Imaginary Lover.

I'm sitting here singing along to a sad song, and if someone cares to ask me how I am, I'll tell them I've never been happier than I am now. "Ahh ahh, ahh ahh," sings the song, and my voice hums along slightly off key. A perfectly imperfect harmony. Or maybe an imperfectly perfect one, either way. He says that he should have given me a reason to stay. But... he never gave me any reason to leave. I'm still here, aren't I? Maybe I'm just a figment of my imagination, just like the conversation about ice cream I had with you earlier. Before you had to go conquer the world, one city at a time. Just so you know, you're worth more to me than all the ice cream in the world. That's a lot of worth, you know. Well, my inspiration is gone, and the sad song is over, so I guess I'll go now. Come home soon, my imaginary lover, and then we'll have that picnic in the park tomorrow. Ice cream and all.