I think it’s unfair, how I’m fading. What, she gets to grow up and change and all that, but I’m just stuck here?
I guess I won’t be here long.
You know, I was doing fine. I was floating around, doing what imaginary friends do, being okay with the fact that she’s moved on and I’m just existing now.
But then it was her birthday. I started looking like a ghost and feeling like a memory, which is completely different from what I’m supposed to be.
So I came back. I wanted to see how she was doing, but the closer I got the less she remembered and the more I was gone.
So now I’m…going, I guess. Which is unfair. I didn’t even ask to be here.
She was sitting at that mini table all those years ago–dreaming about unicorns that could swim underwater, breathe fire and whisk her away to a world where she could soar through cotton candy clouds. Then she started drawing out stories and characters. And then I was born. My wings are sparkly purple, my heart is made of fairy dust, and of course you can’t forget the mermaid tail that randomly manifests at the most inconvenient of times.
I don’t know if someday she’ll remember. If she’ll remember enough that she’ll want me here again, and maybe I will be. Because I still remember swinging from the ladder of the treehouse, the breeze hitting both our faces, and then falling off and breaking an arm. I broke an arm too, you know. She imagined whatever she wanted, and I was it. I think that’s unfair.
I’m almost gone now. She’s there, laughing with her friends in pointy party hats, eating cheesecake. And I’m watching, trying to be satisfied enough by the fact that she seems happy, at least. At least she’s happy. And that’s why I’m here, right? To make her happy?
I’m see-through now. That’s cool, I guess. I just find it unfair.