The Imaginary Friend We Still Look For

On the way back from the gym a few days ago, I had a quiet thought.

When we were children, many of us had an imaginary friend — someone who listened, someone who understood, someone who was always there without conditions.

At some point, we outgrew that.

Or at least, we thought we did.

As we get older, something changes — but not completely.

We no longer call it an imaginary friend, but the shape remains. We look for someone who can understand us fully, listen without resistance, see what we see, and feel what we feel.

Someone who meets us exactly where we are.

When I look closely, I can see my own version of that.

I am someone who listens. I try to understand different perspectives. I try to see patterns in situations.

And sometimes, quietly, I wish someone would do the same for me — in the same way, with the same depth.

Not because others are lacking.

But because something in me is.

There is another layer.

There are moments when I don’t have the energy — to push forward, to expand, to move. And in those moments, I find myself wishing for someone who could lift me.

Not to fix me — just to carry the weight for a while.

But reality doesn’t work like that.

Even in close relationships, even with people who care, there are limits. People cannot always meet the version we imagine.

And when reality doesn’t match that quiet expectation, something happens. There is disappointment. Sometimes frustration. Sometimes silence.

Sometimes, we start explaining too much — trying to be understood.

A few days later, while reading Great Mental Models, something became clearer.

If our thinking is not grounded in reality, then we are not thinking clearly.

That line stayed with me.

Because what I was expecting — that perfectly understanding, always-present, always-aligned person — was not grounded in reality.

It was imagined.

And I began to see it differently.

Maybe I was not looking for a person.
Maybe I was looking for something else.

In business, we talk about vision. But vision must be grounded in reality — otherwise, it becomes a dream.

The same might be true in relationships.

If what we expect from people is not grounded in reality, then we are not seeing them clearly.

We are seeing our imagination.

Recently, I decided to relearn the piano. It felt like a strange decision at first. There are many other responsibilities. Many other priorities.

So I asked myself — why this?

And slowly, something connected.

Maybe I was not looking for someone to understand me.
Maybe I was looking for a space where I can express myself freely.

Without explanation. Without translation. Without needing to be understood.

A place where I can simply be.

Right now, I don’t have a complete answer. I don’t fully understand this feeling of “lacking.” I don’t know how much of it is natural, and how much of it comes from expectation.

But I can see it more clearly than before.

Life does not give us perfect mirrors. It gives us real people — limited, changing, imperfect. And maybe that is not a problem to solve.

Maybe that is the condition we have to accept.

So for now, I am choosing something simple. Not to search for that perfect understanding in others. Not to demand that reality matches what I imagine.

But to stay with what is here.

To express what I can.

To accept what is not returned.

Maybe I was not looking for a person.

Maybe I was looking for a place inside myself — where I can be fully seen, even when no one else does.

And if that place exists,

then I don’t have to wait for someone to become my imaginary friend.

I can stop searching.

I can start being.

That is where I am now.