Imagine a worm. It's crawling in your books, in your stuff, on your kitchen counter.
You've been seeing it for as long as you know you can remember. It dreadfully crawls on someone's shoulder, as they're telling you about how they had an argument, with their friend that day, or very masterfully crawl on your windshield when you're driving down a busy street. When you're looking at it, it doesn't do anything in particular, you don't even know where this worm is going...
Why is it following me?
What is this worm for?
How is it following Me?!
Why do i keep looking at it?
....
Ugh
You furiously hit your windshield wipers, but it doesn't do anything, because the worm is not really there.
And as you're thinking how crazy this all is, you find the light you've been waiting for has turned green, so now you got to go.
So you go and forget about it.
As you're tucked in, in bed at night, you see the worm crawling around in your dreams.
It gets tiring sometimes, but it is what it is.
As much as it is hard to admit, you rather look at the worm sometimes, than your bosses face, so you like it for that.
But more and more you look at it, more and more you keep noticing it.
It's all you can think about now.
You include it in your conversations, and you like it. You like having a witness to your life.
So you let the worm be. So now you forget about it, cause it's an imaginary worm.