As I left off in part 2, when I was little I wanted to be a prince. This was the start of my imagination adventures that I still go on to escape the boredom of reality. It's why I have always seemed so content in silence and so patient. I never really had imaginary friends. I had an imaginary reality that I entered to entertain myself. And it was all in my head, I didn't tell anyone or verbalized the dialogue running through my mind like I was directing and acting in a tv show. So I could be getting a haircut or just sitting on the floor staring at unplugged fan and no one would know that I had left this reality. The only physical thing I really did was use my two fingers to run as my characters were moving. For this post I'm going to psychoanalyze my four-year-old-self and see how this fictional world I created reflected one of the fundamental aspects of my personality and how that made me vulnerable to depressing and suicidal thoughts.
So the first character I created was named Silver. He was a prince with yet-to-be defined magical powers and his weapon was a whip. But instead of this being my imaginary friend, he was my idealized self.
