Friends. That’s one thing I don’t have. Everybody thinks I’m weird, but my mom just says I have a big imagination. I see things other people can’t. I swear I’m not crazy. They are really there. I think they’re angels, but George (George of the jungle as I call him) says they are ghosts, and Leslie thinks they are angels. I agree with George, they kind of creep me out. I don’t know why I’m scared of them. I guess it’s natural to be afraid of ghosts if you see one, their white, see through body, and their dark eyes staring into my soul. Some of the ghosts are nice, they are either smiling at me because they are happy, or a mischievous smile, because they want to kill me in my sleep. I guess it’s okay I don’t have friends, but I like seeing what I see. I like having my own secret. The things I see can be my friends if no one else can.