My imaginary friend is way too persistent in the mornings.

  “Good morning.”

  This horrifying line, this curse from the depths of hell, is being repeated over and over with the ludicrous expectation that I will say it as well.

  “Good morning.”

  This demon…

  I haven’t spoken a word out loud for just two days and suddenly she is worried I’ll never be able to talk at this rate.

  “Gooood morning.”

  It was just two days, I went way longer without speaking to other people before, and I would be talking to myself if she wasn’t around…

  Ok, maybe that last part shouldn’t be part of my defense.

  “Good morning.”

  Someone make it stop.

  Should I call the cops or the fire fighters?

  Maybe the coast guard, I’m nowhere near the sea, but I’m sure seeing a ship sailing on land will shut anyone up.

  Like I could make a call if I can’t even say good morning.

  “Good morning good morning good morninggg.”

  And now she’s singing it.

  I’ll make my escape into the bathroom and deal with all this when I come out.

  “Good morning.”

  Don’t follow me inside, aargh I’m doomed.

  I don’t want to find out who is more shy, me or my bladder.

  “Good morning.”

  Alright, stay calm, there is a perfectly reasonable way to deal with it.

  Come up with a name for her, so that if I wet myself, I can blame her in my suicide note.

  “Good morning.”

  This is a violation of human rights, I took an involuntary vow of silence when I was born, this whole thing goes against my freedom of religion or whatever.

  “Good morning.”

  Fine, I give up, I’ll talk so stop the torture.

  “G-g-good m-moo…”

  I stand corrected, it was a violation of my cow rights.

  “Good job, you still owe me the morning part but this is enough for you to go pee.”

  Hold your applause, no seriously, WHY are you clapping for this?

  It’s pretty sad but I somewhat feel like I deserve this praise from my sadistic imaginary friend, even if all I did was mess up, I still tried my hardest.

  I should take this chance to use the toilet and wash my face before she changes her mind.

  I finish my business in the bathroom, make a cup of coffee, and go sit on the couch.

  Maybe some television will get her to forget that I still “owe” her a word.

  “You should say the whole thing before the next time you need to go, so I’ll start again.”

  Kill me now.

  Knowing I have to talk makes my heart beat so wildly, sweat covers my body and my mouth dries up, all the while knots form in my stomach.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  It’s a horrible horrible feeling and if this sadist knew about it, she would probably try even harder to get me to speak.

  “Good morning.”

  For the sake of my sanity I should probably try again.

  “G-good morning.”

  Hahaha, I did it, in your face you demonic grown up baby.

  “Great job, I always knew you could do it.”

  It really ruins the all gloating thing when I see her so happy about it

  If you smile so proudly after I manage to do it, it makes it seem like we are on the same side.

  “We will try more sentences a bit later.”

  You demon baby, have mercy!

  I feel like I’m not even getting any credit for speeding up my typing speed when I write to her.

  I manage a whole word a minute now, but all she cares about is if I’m talking out loud or not.

  Well, that is something for future me to deal with, so current me just needs to be uselessly anxious about it until then.

  I don’t want either of those roles actually, please spare me.

  Nothing to do but to watch some television and hope plan A will end up working by some miracle.

  Aside from her new obsession with setting impossible conditions for using the toilet, the last few days with her have been quite enjoyable.

  She jokes around when we watch tv, gives me horrible advice when I play video games and sits with me when I eat.

  She even renounced her claim to the bed, which she rightfully conquered at the tender age of one day old.

  That night when I tried to go to sleep on the floor, she kindly suggested that she will spend the night on the chair in my room, after asking in a not so kind manner why I was being weird.

  She also stopped suggesting I should seek outside help since then, and I didn’t experience another bout of weirdly spelled caffeine withdrawal.

  “Hina has a cute sound to it, maybe that will be a good name for me.”

  From time to time she considers one of the names she hears on tv shows or games for herself, but never settles on one.

  I somewhat think that it’s a passive aggressive reminder for me to pick her one.

  The series, following the exploits of a high school volleyball club, manages to keep her attention off of me for now.

  If I'm lucky, she will want to binge a few episodes in a row and delay the dreaded speaking exercise.

  The anxiety is still deeply rooted in my stomach and it feels like my hair is being pulled on.

  This restless and uncomfortable feeling won’t go away anytime soon, I hate it.

  “Hey, look at the tv or I can’t see it properly.”

  Can’t even look at the ceiling when I’m feeling anxious.

  Well, at least I’m lucky she shares my interests, so I’m forced to watch stuff I enjoy watching. Makes me think she is really just a part of me, even if she seems so different.

  Made from the same parts but arranged differently huh, maybe I should name her Ami.

  Not sure if I can handle it if she finds the whole palindrome thing cringey.

  “Break over, we should aim for three words this time.”

  The episode ended while I was lost in thought and now the hellish experience from before is once again set to repeat itself.

  “Okay, repeat after me. Thank you, my beautiful and incredible best friend, for helping me get over my inability to speak.”

  It feels like a little more than three words, but I need definitive proof to convince her so maybe I should count it on my fingers before complaining.

  I don’t have enough fingers on my hands, which I’m sure she finds amusing.

  “I just thought you would have an easier time saying something you actually wanted to say.”

  The list of things I wanted to say but couldn’t is incredibly long but this sentence isn’t in it.

  “Fine, let's go with I love pasta or something boring like that.”

  Phew, crisis averted and it's just three words.

  Wait, three words is too much as well, you can’t fool me you imaginary trickster.

  “I love pasta.”

  I only like it as a friend.

  Also, I only ate hotdogs since she showed up, where is she getting pasta from?

  “I love chicken.”

  Those wings are tasty.

  “I love pizza.”

  Why leave Italy just to return to it straight after?

  Also, I can't argue with that statement and it's making me dangerously hungry for something other than hotdogs.

  I have to put a stop to her before I’m forced to do something productive like cooking.

  So what food should I announce my undying love for?

  “I love ramen.”

  Maybe I should try saying that name I thought up for her.

  Might get her to leave me alone for the rest of the day.

  “A-ami.”

  I even stammered less than usual, amazing aren’t I?

  She doesn't seem as excited as I thought.

  “What’s that?”

  Dammit, I forgot the context, I don’t want to speak again.

  I’ll just point at her and see if that works.

  “My name?”

  Does she hate it?

  I’m sorry, I won’t call you that ever again just please don’t take away my toilet privileges.

  She suddenly flashes a smile and gives me an imaginary hug that feels like nothing, but for some odd reason I find it comforting.