Creativity Quote by Lee Ryan

There is something quietly defiant in Lee Ryan admitting he still has imaginary friends. Coming from a musician, it reads less like a quirky confession and more like a defense of the inner life that pop culture usually pressures men to outgrow. The line drains the stigma from “imaginary” by treating it as practical: these aren’t childish props, they’re a private cast he can consult, argue with, or lean on when the room gets too loud.

The intent feels twofold. First, it humanizes him in a celebrity economy that rewards polish and punishes need. Second, it reclaims creativity as a living relationship, not a lightning bolt. A lot of songwriting is basically structured self-talk; giving that process a name - “friends” - makes it sound warmer, less clinical than “voices” or “inner monologue.” It also hints at control. Imaginary friends are chosen, curated. They don’t leak to tabloids, they don’t demand explanations, they don’t turn your vulnerable moment into content.

The subtext is loneliness without melodrama. Touring, fame, and the churn of public opinion can leave artists surrounded but unsheltered. Imaginary friends become a portable community, a rehearsal space for feelings you can’t safely try out on real people. There’s also a sly refusal of the adult script: maturity isn’t the absence of fantasy; it’s knowing how to use it. In that sense, Ryan’s line lands as both self-reveal and manifesto: staying porous, staying imaginative, staying in conversation with yourself, even when the world insists you should have “grown out of it.”