I have been with her ever sense I could remember. She and I were the best of friends anyone could imagine.

I remember when she was just a young girl telling her older sister and some other adults about me. I remember they would just smile and get along with her. I don't know if she knew that they were only pretending in front of her, but I don't care what they think of me.

What I care for is what my dear friend thinks of me; if she believes that I am real, then I am.

My friend and I grew together. I remember her first day of school. She was standing in front of her class, trembling and shaking. I then came to her, making use that only she could see me, and I whispered to her, "It is fine my friend. Everything is alright. I am here with you."

She smiled then, whispered for me a thank, and then spoke openly in front of the class.

That was just the beginning of how we went along. I have always been with her: when she was on stage to act in front of her whole school, when she had to give that speech in public, and when she had to sing that chorus, and oh what an ethereal voice she had!

When she finished singing, I knew she could see me while I was clapping for her and wiping away few tears. She smiled to me as tears ran out her eyes too. The sound of applause was filling the air, yet I still could hear her telling me, "Thank you. You made me able to do it."

My friend grew, and so I did. Although I had never left her side, she had to leave me sometimes. She had those friends with whom she would talk and text all night. But sometimes, they discussed weird things my friend didn't know or like; it was then when my friend would come back to me, and we would talk and make stories together.

Oh! Have I not mentioned our story thing?! I and my friend had that habit. She had an imagination you could easily get lost in; she would spend hours with me, creating stories about me as a heroine. They would be stories of how strong, brave, and passionate I am.

I loved those stories not because I played the role of the protagonist, but because I knew she was telling her own story, talking about herself and what she loved when she felt alone and unheard. She knew that I would always listen to her, and I always did.

When things developed and our stories went out of control, we decided to write them down. She would spend hours and hours with that book on her knees, while I kept on whispering for her my tales.

Things were working better than fine. We had quite good times. I was the thing that made her different from everyone, and she was proud of me. But, do sweet things last?

My friend wished to show our stories to her friends, but many of them, instead of looking at her as the unique and special thing she was, looked at her as a weird freak. Because my friend and I enjoyed peaceful settings based on imaginary places above the clouds and magical things, they turned their noses above us.

I knew that being with my friend in our castle in the clouds was the most thing that pleased her, and talking about our adventures was the most thing that she loved, but how could her 'friends' ever understand??

Soon, my friend began feeling lonely. I knew that I wasn't enough for her, and that she needed some real people. She fought her way and tried to get in their world; however, every time she did, I felt myself getting weaker, and my color getting paler.

That used to frighten her, but I told her not to care, for this was going to happen any way.

Every day, I saw myself becoming more vague. My friend was sixteen by the time, and so I was, but how vulnerable I looked! My friend had written down almost all our stories, and had kept them in a drawer beside her bed. Sometimes, she would take them out and read them for me. I listened to her as I had always did, for that was the only thing I wasn't weak for.

One night, she was terribly blue. When I saw her, I sat next to her, enfolded her, and asked her, "What is the matter? Did anything go wrong?"

She raised her eyes and looked at me, and began sobbing. "I can't live without you, Aurora," she cried. "I can't! Why they just don't understand?! I tried to tell them about us, but they scorned me and called me a child. They told me to grow up and become an adult. They called me 'a hopeless case' because I think a lot of someone that exists only in my imaginations. I wanted to tell them that they were wrong, but I felt my tongue tied, and I stood speechless in front of them. I can't live without you, Aurora. You always stayed with me when everyone left me behind. You always stood by me when I needed you most. I can't leave you now after all we have been through!"

I pulled her, kissed her hair, and placed her head in my lap. I didn't know what to tell her, but I was afraid that I knew what I had to do for her. "It is fine," I whispered for her. "You are not to be blamed for this. This would have come anyway. I think we both know what the solution is. The time has come for it."

She raised her eyes, looked at me for a while in fear, and then cried as she tightened her arms firmly around me, "NO! YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME. DON'T. I BEG YOU. PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME! PLEASE STAY WITH ME! I NEED YOU, AURORA! I NEED YOU!"

I was quiet at the beginning. I just helped her lay in her bed, still crying with her head in my lap, and then I whispered for her as I brushed her hair, "Don't worry. I will always be with you when you'll need me. There is no need to say goodbye, for I will always be next to you."

.  .  .

I still see her from the panels of our castle in the clouds. I look at her from up, and I see her with her friends and her family. She has grown up a lot and became a woman. I think she is about to become a mother too, soon. I wonder whether she will tell her babies about me, and what she will tell them when they will tell her about friends like me. I see her happy, yet I am not sure whether she is 'happier.' However, despite all, I still know that what we did was right; even if I wasn't the one to leave her, she would have eventually forgotten about me and left me. As for that, I know that the right decision was made.
Fortunately, I am not alone in our castle in the clouds, for all the people that were in our stories are with me now: my white, lovely horse, my magical fairy friend, my parents, and my charming prince of course! However, despite all, I still miss her. I look at her while she is laughing, and I remember how we used to laugh together, watch and cry over books and series together, and how I used to help her in her exams and inspire her. I smile as I do so, for I remember the words she had written once in our stories:
"The past is gone now, and all we have of it is memories. Some hurt, while others make us laugh. It doesn't matter which memories you have, for if you have memories, you have lived, and that is what is important."