"Some friends don't live in the world. They live in the spaces between loneliness and dreams."
Dear Diary,
Today, I found a paper crown in my old toy box.
It was bent, glitter-faded, and too small for my head now. But when I touched it, something inside me lit up like an old, forgotten lamp.
And just like that… I remembered Ira.
My imaginary friend.
She had lavender skin, hair like cotton candy, and a voice like wind chimes.
She wore boots made of moonlight and a dress stitched with old lullabies.
And she was mine.
We met when I was five — right after I first learned that sometimes parents yell, sometimes people leave, and sometimes little girls cry under blankets because they don't know how else to ask for safety.
Ira didn't talk much. But she was always there.
When I was scared of sleeping in the dark, she would sit by my pillow and hum stories into my ears.
When kids at school laughed at me for being "too weird" or "too quiet," she'd pull me into our secret world made of blanket castles and talking teacups.
She was the first one to tell me:
> "You don't have to be loud to matter."
But as I grew older, I started speaking to her less.
Grown-ups told me to focus on "real things."
So Ira faded — gently, without anger. Like steam leaving a mirror.
Until today.
When I found that old paper crown, I placed it on my head… just to see.
And the wind shifted.
Behind me, I felt a breeze — warm and sweet — and then a quiet, familiar voice whispered:
> "I've missed you."
I turned.
She looked older now too. Taller. Softer. But still… Ira.
We didn't talk much. We didn't need to.
She just sat with me in the attic, where dust danced like tiny stars, and we remembered.
The invisible tea parties.
The dragon-slaying ballet recitals.
The nights we cried together when the world felt too big for a little heart like mine.
"I thought I outgrew you," I said.
She smiled, brushing a glittery leaf from her shoulder.
"You never did. You just grew around me."
And maybe she was right.
Because even when I wasn't thinking of her, I still wore the bravery she taught me.
Still walked with the wonder she planted in me.
Still dreamed in color because of her.
Before she left again, she touched my forehead gently and said:
> "I'm not just imaginary. I'm the part of you that always believed magic was more than pretend."
Then she disappeared in a flicker of light and lavender dust.
I sat there for a long time, the crown crooked on my head, smiling.
And I realized…
Some friends don't leave.
They just wait for you to remember how to see them.
Till tomorrow,
Wunor 👑🫧