You are a kid’s imaginary friend, but you find yourself slowly fading away as they
Let me just tell you my name: I’m Eda. I’ll also tell you that I try to be a nice person everyday. But maybe you wouldn’t call me a “person”. It doesn’t matter. What matters is how I see myself, right? Well, not really. No what matters is how Daisy sees my. After all, she created me and I also created her, just in a different way. Let me tell you about her. She’s beautiful, like a butterfly; she’s like a calm ocean, filled with kindness; she’s like a star, spreading light everywhere. I watched her grow up. I still have a clear memory of her sitting on a beautiful chair, reading a book and enjoying a cup of tea. The wind brushed her hair in a friendly way and the sun brightened her face. Maybe you won’t think this is important but the simpliest things in life give me the most joy. And that was the first book she read. Well, started to read since she spilled the tea accidentally and ruined it, but maybe that was the best thing that happened. She didn’t know how the story would continue so she created one in her mind. She ruined the book and “built” me. Or, better saying, believed in me more.
Daisy reminds me of the seasons. Always changing. She was such a beautiful little girl, like I told you before. I thought she was an ideal girl that came to live in a real world. She was happy and carefree, maybe because she was little. She started to grow up, not in a way I wanted her to. I screamed in her head and she only heard whispers. The world whispered to her and she heard screaings. I told her to not trust the world when it tells you you’re not beautiful, it’s the society that isn’t. Don’t trust the world when it tells you you’re weak, it is only afraid of your power and it’s trying to make you not use it. Don’t trust the world when it tells you that you’re worthless. You’re like a river Daisy. You’re a clear river, with small rocks that don’t hurt anyone but yourself. When she grew up she used to feel like the river i told her about, but she placed it in a desert. “Still, fine,”—I told her. She told me “I’m useless. No one lives in this desert and it won’t make a difference if i just dry.” I told her that’s not true. Even if no one lived there, the ground will miss you. Life will miss you. Maybe I’m not good with words and couldn’t convince her. I told you how she was like a beautiful butterfly, she still is, but I think her wings are broken, she’s still like an ocean, but a rough one, she’s still a star but she can only feel the burning now and not the light. She changed like the seasons. Once she was like spring, joyful; she kept being even better, like summer, she loved everyone. I felt like she was changing again, but not for better. She was a bit cooler now, not warm like before. She was like autumn. And she started distancing herself from the world and people. But, how it hurt, she distanced herself from me and her too. Now she’s cold. She’s winter. She’s cold to others but I can feel her warmth, ‘cause I know what’s inside of her. But people are quick to judge. They think she doesn’t care when she cares the most. They think she’s selfish when she’s just stoic. She became stoic and I started to fade away. I told her to let those tears fall like the trees let the leaves. I told her to let her heart melt like snow does. But she doesn’t listen to me anymore. She can only see me fading away. Now I regret telling her only half of the things I should’ve. I didn’t tell her the world is not ideal even if you are. I didn’t tell her that pain is part of life too, and not something you should let to kill you but something you have to learn to live with. I know she was broken inside and I just wanet to sing to her how “there’s a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in” but I wasn’t heard. This world changes you a lot, I saw that in Daisy, even if I was just her childhood friend who didn’t die ‘till late in her teenagehood. I was thd voice inside her mind that stopped being heard. Now I feel like she let our memories together travel with a ship, far away from the shore, which happens to be her mind. She only stands there and watches it dissappear. But the ship is cracked and the ocean, made of everything but reality, is getting inside of it, ruining the beauty of our, almost forgotten for her, memories. I think my time came to an end and the last thing I told her was “Don’t let the world change you, don’t let them bury the light.”