As you perch on the bed, talking to your friend, I watch from the corner of the room. Your lively chatter and her trilling responses remind me of the times when we used to sit together in that very same spot, talking about nothing and everything all at once. I miss those days. I miss you. But I know it can never be the same. I've accepted this, don’t worry. Fourteen is too old to have an imaginary friend. I knew I would have to fade. But first, I wanted to watch you. Make sure you grew up okay. So I stayed, long, long past the times you stopped playing with me, past the times I would greet you and you would pretend not to see me, and even past the time I felt the first whispers of evanescence, telling me it was time to go. But I can’t just say this was all for you. For the longest time, I had hoped that you would come back to me, play with me one more time. And when that wish finally died, I stayed for old times’ sake. The memories of us, living and breathing in the hallways of the only home we ever knew. I would wander the house recalling the fun we had together. Remember after the first time you saw Avatar, you imagined my skin blue? And how you changed my name to Lucy after your mother read you The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe when you were seven? (I still sport the blue skin and the name, if you were wondering.) After I had gotten my fill of memories, I stayed for you, and you alone. When you were upset, I would comfort you, and when you were scared, I would chase your monsters away, even though I knew that to you, I was long gone. I liked to think that maybe I had provided comfort to that younger you I know you keep secret inside. Looking at you now, I can see your strength, your bravery, your youness. I know that you’ll be okay without me here. So now, I think it’s time to finally let go.