I remember someone who doesn’t exist.

Many someones’ really, but one in particular.

I wanted to see her, so I went to the place where she last was, thinking she’d still be there. I stepped into the past, literally if I might add, and she met me there. 

For a few hours, she let me wear her shoes, and let me see the world through her eyes. I watched silently as others saw her, listened as they called her name and talked to her. It was as if she was alive and well, like the day was one of many in which she’d come again. 

They thought she walked those halls for them, and they would have been right if I hadn’t been there. But in reality, she was there for me. She just loved me enough that she brought me to see, she left long ago and after today forever would be, gone.

I felt how she felt, and realized she wasn’t there, or anywhere, anymore. The place was a graveyard, her last known home. Very few caught on that she was a relic, only alive in their hearts with her swirls and her colors. They still see someone who doesn’t exist, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell them she chose to leave. 

I left the last pieces I had held onto from her, most notably the mask that made up her form. I said “thank you, and goodbye.” I won’t look for her again, not there, not anywhere. And I hope those who still see her will forgive me for not revealing the enchantments she once made, left along with her spirit. 

 

 

It may sound like a sad story but for me it’s actually quite happy. If I explained in depth you would see why. I’ll try to summarize it as: I said goodbye to a part of me that was happy to leave. And I feel all the more free for it.

What I have grown into knowing is that I don’t have something to prove. I’m happy in not trying so hard to be anything in particular. I’m happy in not feeling like I have to be magic, even though I trust that I am and I don’t need to prove it.