This is a mockup of a story that hopefully will become more than a couple paragraphs long one day, but it can't until I finish the one I'm working on. My inspiration came from the movie/play "Harvey"(dead giveaway right there).



  Michael Bertrucci walked down the road towards his house, much as he did every other day. And like every other day, he was accompanied by his friend, Liam, who had no last name to speak of--at least it hadn't been brought to Michael's knowledge. As they walked past other pedestrians, they tended to receive strange glances, ones of worry of confusion. While it was obvious to Michael the reason why, he didn't care. Liam was Michael's imaginary friend, and he knew that Liam was an illusion. Nobody could see him but Michael, so public conversation with Liam was awkward, to say the least, but regardless, he conversed with his friend, careless of the world or how people looked at him.

  This particular day was unusual. As they walked, Liam brought up the subject, "Do people look at you ever so strangely?"
  Michael nodded, "They do. Ah s'pose iss juss 'cause they can't see yuh."
  "They could be more polite," Liam responded, "It is your world, after all."
  Michael pondered the precise meaning of the question for a moment, "Iss the world Ah live in, Bud, but it ain't never been mah own innehmore thin iss theirs," he said, gesturing to the concerned faces. "We haftuh share it with evereh one. Ah can't just tayll someone to not look at meh. Thet wouldn be right."
  Liam understood completely, but didn't acknowledge it. Liam seemed to have what could almost be seen as mood swings. For a moment, he'd be talking plainly, then he'd begin to whisper quietly, if speaking at all. He never looked directly at his friend, which was baffling to Michael. Occasionally, if they sat across from each other, Liam would glance at Michael for a half-second at a time, but never on the street. He always stared at the ground or directly in front of himself while walking. Michael always wondered if it was a subconscious aspect that kept him from imagining a more socialized person; perhaps he was unknowingly compensating for his own introvertedness, he wondered, but discarded the thought without regard.
  "Have you ever told anyone about me?" Liam asked.
  "Ah've not. Ah dunno what people'd think if ah told'm ah saw someone who issin there."
  What made this an unusual day was that Liam rarely spoke so much. He mostly listened. He also avoided any discussion of his own existence. Michael wondered if it bothered him, but threw that thought aside as well. Liam was what Michael made of him, nothing more, nothing less. Reasoning his feelings was pointless--Liam felt how Michael imagined he felt. He thought how Michael imagined he thought. He existed how Michael imagined he existed. He walked through lightposts, walls, trees, anything in order to stay at Michael's side. It was as if Liam didn't even see the objects in the path whenever they approached; he simply kept walking, as Michael imagined he would, as a person without mass, displacement or matter.
  "Michael," Liam said solemnly, "we need to talk."
  "Sure thang, Bud, what 'bout?"
  "I can't see you anymore."
  "Well, Ah'm rot 'ere beside yuh."
  "That's not what I mean, Michael, and you know it."
  Suddenly, Michael understood perfectly, as if it had been explained to him in great detail; "You see, your world really is your world, not mine. People there look at you, not me because I don't exist there. You've mentioned how I walk through stuff. That's because it doesn't exist. You don't exist. You're just my imaginary friend, Michael. And people--real people--are asking questions about me talking to someone they can't see."