You know, I am going to miss you guys when the pills kick in.

I am serious. You all have been the best bunch of hallucinations a fella could ask for, and that’s not just the Xanax talking. I know we’ve had our differences in the past and our relationship has always been…. complicated… but I just want to let you all know that, all in all, I could not have asked for a better group of delusional manifestations of my tortured psyche trying to make sense of the world despite a head full of bad wiring and emotional trauma.

And I mean it!

Yes, I am talking about you, Inside Out Face. Sure, you’ve scared the hell out of me since I was a little girl. Heck, you’re the reason I ended up in this mental hospital in the first place. I was doing a great job of pretending to be sane before you started appearing and trying to eat my head.

Despite my best efforts, I could not control my screaming. And there’s only so many times you can say “acid flashback” or “I swear I saw a spider” before your co-workers at Chipotle begin to get suspicious.

Not to mention the customers. Yikes.

But I am perfectly happy to let bygones be bygones. It’s nice here at Greenhaven. And truth be told, there was times when I wanted you to show up and give me a fright so I had an excuse to go home for the day.

After all, that’s where you live, Amorous Italian Rhinoceros.

I guess I can admit it now… you’ve always been my favorite. Your charm, your wit, your generous affection, the stylish way you paint your hooves… you are everything I have ever wanted in a mammal. Whenever I skip my meds, it’s you I am thinking of. I would face a whole army of Inside Out Faces and Poop Popes and even Molester Moles if it meant I got to spend another minute in your strong, rough-skinned embrace.

Doctor Finkelman says that makes your my most dangerous delusion of all, and I suppose he’s right. After all, you are the reason I held up that bank. I could never say no to that sad yet dignified look in your eyes. When you told me that you needed fifty thousand dollars to keep the Space Ark from crashing into the sun, that’s all I needed to hear.

Now, even with the reduced sentence, there’s very little chance of us getting out of Greenhaven any time soon. But you know I can’t stay mad at you. Not for long. And you know it, you handsome old rogue you. No matter how many times you get me into trouble, I will always come back to you in the end. I just can’t stay away, no matter how many times you trick me into taking off all my clothes in public.

Doctor Finkelman also calls our relationship bestiality, but that’s just silly. After all, you can talk!

And speaking of nudity, don’t think I have forgotten you, Naked Dickensian Waif. Sometimes you are a girl and sometimes you are a boy, but you have always been my friend. As long as you were around, I didn’t feel so bad about myself. Without the need to constantly bathe you (you’re such a dirty little ragamuffin, always getting into trouble!), I would have gone crazy.

Well, crazier. Whatever. You know what I mean.

I don’t see why Doctor Finkelman gets so upset when I talk about you. Apart from that one time where I tried to make that boy I stole into you, my relationship with you has always been as normal and healthy as it could be.

After all, everyone loves a good bath, right? So why put clothes on you? With how dirty you tend to get, putting clothes on you would just mean having to bathe you AND do your laundry. Much easier to just let you run around naked.

Besides, little kids don’t need clothes because they don’t have anything to hide yet. Uncle Donny taught us that!

Oh dear, I feel the medication starting to kick in, and I have so many more of you to thank. Already you are all getting a little blurry. I’d better pick up the pace.

I will always have a soft spot in my heart for you, Man Made Of Penises. I could never understand what you were saying, and you always smelled weird, but Doctor Finkelman said you did a really good job of representing my deep struggle against the world of men and maleness, and that I should be grateful my subconscious chose such an obvious manifestation and that you were super keen and lovely and wonderful.

Or something like that.

Um, um…. oh, Kissing Flower! Doctor Finkelman called you obvious too, but he didn’t seem happy about it. I don’t know what his problem is. I always loved how you would kiss me all over. I don’t know why Doctor Finkelman is so obsessed with finding out “who you really are”.

Maybe he just doesn’t like flowers.

Oh, and of course I can’t forget (at least till these meds kick in all the way) you, Ghost of Jesus. Whenever life truly had me down and not even pictures of dying clowns could cheer me up, you were always there to put your arms around my shoulders and make fun of my vagina.

You have no idea how much that meant to me.

Well, I guess this is it. You are all just grey blurs to me now, and soon, I will be back in reality for the first time since I was a little girl with “troubling” imaginary friends.

I had so much more to say, but for some reason, I can’t remember any of it now. I guess all I can say is… thanks for the company, folks. I guess I will never see you again.

In fact, the whole thing is starting to seem a little weird.