Jon was a friend that was non-existent. He was the kind of friend that was the way that birds are, happy cheerful full of promise, but don’t come near me, I’ll fly away, says every bird ever, unless you happen to relate to the bird kingdom under different circumstances. Like maybe you and this bird got stuck together in some kind of holding pattern for a bit, and you all learned how to get on with your business, relating as compatriots or what have you. Identifying the bond of a common problem. Moving on.
No one thinks the bird doesn’t exist, but everybody sure knows Jon won’t help you move that couch.
“Jon, help us move this couch,” you’ll say. There’ll be no response, tho, because Jon doesn’t exist. He’s a figment of your imagination. He’s a caricture of some real person you thought you saw once on TV, or the internet, now. Fairly representative of what you would expect. This guy was going places, like fancy lands that substanceless entities inhabit.
It’s a cold world. “Jon, turn up the heat!”
No. No is how the universe works that one out.