I can't remember a time that I wasn't imagining stories in my head.

I "had" hardcore ADHD. I wasnt misdiagnosed like so many others. Legitimate couldn't focus, extreme hyperactivity.

So my mind would wonder all day every day. So much so that my school work suffered. My social skills were awkward and I always felt 2 steps behind in understanding what was going on.

I was confused and often alone. I would imagine what it was like to feel normal, to be someone that people would want as a friend. For a time I believed what people said about me, that I had issues and that I was maybe autistic.

Then, I can't remember why, I told a story to a kid I walked home from middle school with. He walked and listened. And this kid was everthing I wished I could be. Popular, an excellent student and seemed like he had things figured out. But he was listening to me, someone that no one gave a second thought too. --He said to me after hearing my story.

"Wow, I wish I had your imagination"

It had never occurred to me that my imagination was something special. From that day on he would challenge me everyday on our walk home to tell a new story; coming up with scenarios or simply pointing to an object to build a story around.

We've been friends for 20 years.

I write because people like my stories.