Shadows are friends I hold close to my heart. My intimate relationship with them first developed in my childhood. Nothing fascinates me more than long, wispy shadows in the twilight, spooky shadows in the closet, and lonely, weary shadows under a street light. Naturally-occuring shadows do little to satisfy my imagination. I create different personalities for different shadows and they help me while away the endless stretches of boredom called childhood. Like every other child, I play with imaginary friends--shadows. Pretty soon,my shadows refused to leave me even when the room is bright. Their little voices remained in my head even I don't see them. My illusions worsened by the day and the detachment from reality became hard to ignore. What is wrong with me? Shadows tie down my cravings for approval. They give me the unconditional love that I need and deserve, but sadly lack. They allow me to feel in control, to dominate conversations, to feel... normal, I guess. I think control is one big issue. You can't control what is real in the world, but you can control your world of shadows. I prefer observing myself through my shadows, musing at myself as I watch it move when I run or jump. My self-esteem is so low, I can't bear to look into my reflection in the mirror without cringing. I hate to realize that I exist. In shadows, I look better. I have no features, which suits me fine. When I have no features, I no longer have to bother about hiding my emotions. I like this feeling of annoymity. Do I deserve an identity, by the way? Another aspect of shadows that intrigues me is its irrelevance to size. A tiny mouse may have a huge shadow. Fat people may look puny in shadows. I like myself only in shadows. Finally, I can choose to look big or small as I like it. I can see myself as a stick-thin shadow, instead of the fat blimp staring back at me in the mirror. I relish this sense of control. If only I could achieve this in real life. I wish I could be smaller, smaller and smaller. God, why can't I look thinner still? I want to have less of myself to hate, less of myself to be disgusted with. Why can't I just disappear from the face of this earth? I asked that question to my shadows and am still waiting for a reply. When the lights are off, and the world, including my shadows are asleep, I swear I can hear myself dying.