Markiplier Imagines

107 | figments of your imagination

okay, so here's this. worked on it for days, still don't really like the outcome. but,, i felt like you guys should read it, so tell me what you think!

words | 2,197

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I don't see her too often, anymore.

Sometimes she'd come up to me, tell me how she felt about the world, but I never saw her face. Quite honestly, I feel as though I could describe her perfectly, yet she would be featureless from the collarbone up, and I would probably never do her justice.

My confidence comes from the small fact that I've seen her all my life. For brief periods of time every night for what felt like the past twenty-five years or so, we would meet up in whatever dreamscape I thought of and we would talk. When I was younger, we would just babble at each other, playing with the giant dinosaurs and playing video games on old computers.

For some reason, though, I never told my family. The entire time I lived with them, I never said a word about the girl. Maybe it was because I didn't know her name, maybe it was because I had never seen her face, or maybe it was because my mom and dad would tell me that it was just my imagination. Now that I'm older, now that we're older, I know they would tell me that dreams are figments of a land we wish we could have.

Dreams are simply our escape from the world, and all of the evil, awful things in it.

And I think, as I got older and became more... more aware of everything, that's how I saw her. She was my escape, the person I went to for everything. I still remember nights of sitting on a bench, or a log, or anything for that matter, and just telling her about breakups and arguments and best friends. She would tell me the same, and every single time, I felt like I should've been there.

I should've been there to protect her, to hold her. But in my dreamscape, no matter how much I wished to see her face, I couldn't so much as see her face, let alone touch her. I could only listen, and talk, hoping to the great lord above that she listened, too.

Now, though, I see her less and less. Most times, I either don't dream, or she isn't there. But in the few nights we see each other, it feels like a piece of me is put back in place. She understands me perfectly, gets everything I say and can see why I made the decisions I did. And I've noticed that we sit closer than we used to, and if it were at all possible, I sometimes feel her fingers against mine.

I want to entangle them, and I want to hold her close. I want to give her a kiss every time we wake up, I want to be able show my love for her. I just need her with me, in a more physical, real way. I'll be honest when I say that things are different when I don't see her. I realized that over the years, she became my lifeline, my ship in choppy waters, my sun on a dark day, my everything when all seems lost.

When I woke up today, I know I didn't see her. I know that we hadn't crossed paths in our dreams, yet I don't know why. Why had it all of a sudden stopped? Why did she just keep disappearing from my dreams and my life at various instances? Why wasn't I able to stop it?

Shaking my head solemnly, I sighed out and just got out of bed, not even bothering to throw on a shirt. Although living alone had its perks, it still felt rather lonely on mornings like this. It felt like I should've had someone to wake up to, someone to hold while they made coffee in the kitchen.

Instead, I had the feeling of cold tile against my feet and a half asleep pup at my heels, claws clicking against the tile. My breaths came calmly as I made my coffee and stared out the window, wondering about what today might bring. I had a few videos to catch up on, and I needed to make sure that Ethan and Kathryn didn't need any help with editing.