Castles in the Sky

˙⋆ Imaginary Friend ⋆˙

Sometimes, I have to remind myself

That you were real.

That you weren't just a ghost of my imagination.

Time has turned my memories

Into a hazy montage.

Snippets and fragments of our childhood:

Email threads so long it took ten minutes to find your latest reply;

Texting you every minute of every day for at least two years;

That very first conversation about how we would roleplay our own fictional boyfriends

Because it felt too weird to flirt with each other, even in character;

How I never saw your plot twists coming;

You writing in black font and my edits always standing out in the brightest red option;

Messaging you in pockets of time I never had on vacation.

Sometimes, I have to remind myself that you weren't just an imaginary friend

Created by my psyche to get me through those years.

Sometimes, it doesn't feel like we were real,

Like those versions of us only ever existed in another universe.

I wonder what we would tell those versions of ourselves,

If given the chance.

Would I warn that girl of the pain she welcomes by continuing?

Would I tell her that those Neverland years are worth it?

Would I urge her to cherish those moments a little more?

Sometimes, I forget that we were just two girls who got lost in Neverland.

Today, you said that you still wish Neverland was real.

I neglected to mention that—to me—it had always been real.

You were a Pixie Girl,

A Lost Girl who would've been Peter Pan's favorite.

But to me, Neverland was never a place—

It was you.

Your wild, reckless abandon;

Your endless creativity;

The way you poured yourself into every story,

Every character,

Every new adventure that we forged for ourselves

In a time when escapism was the only way we knew how to survive.

Sometimes, I forget that we went from strangers

To friends

To best friends

To not talking

To cautiously hopeful,

To reconnecting

To reconciling

To grownups

To hoping we could turn back time

To hoping things wouldn't be different

To realizing that things would never be the same

To understanding that this was always inevitable

To dreaming of Neverland

To sharing old stories and old memories

To hesitant conversations in coffee shops

To awkward pauses and wondering why things have to change

To accepting that what we had is finally gone

To wondering what happened to the two little girls who grew up and left Neverland behind.

Sometimes, it feels like the memories are too new

To be this distant.

I don't know why I keep writing poetry about you,

Pixie Girl.

I told myself that I wouldn't do this again—

That I needed to move on and simply accept whatever role

God lets me have in your life.

Today, you said that you understood what I meant

When I told you that sometimes I forget you're real

And not just my childhood imaginary friend.

I wonder if you understood

Because you've felt it, too.

If there is another universe,

I like to think that those girls made of stardust

Are still telling stories late into the night.

I like to think that those imaginary friends

Are still writing cringey fanfiction

And fictionalizing their souls.

I like to think that those Pixie Girls

Are still fighting for the Neverland that kept them alive.

I like to think that those Lost Girls

Are still inseparable,

But no longer lost.

I like to think that those imaginary girls

Will tell stories together until the end of time,

Leaving their souls imprinted on the world

In faith, trust, and pixie dust.