Fridaynightsky

Imaginary friend, invisible friend - call us what you like. Maybe you believe in us, maybe you don't. The point is, it's not important. Like most people who do truly great work, we don't exist to be talked about and praised; we exist only to serve the needs of those who needs us. Maybe we don't exist at all; maybe we're just a figment of people's imaginations; maybe it's just pure concidence that children of two, who can barely speak, all decide to start making friends with people only adults can't see. Maybe all those doctors and psychotherapists are right to suggest that they are merely developing their imagination.
Or humour me for a second. Is there possibly another explanation that you haven't thought about for the entirety of my story?
The possibility that we do exist. That we're here to help and assist those who needs us, who believe in believing and can therefore see us.
I always look on the positive side of things. I always say that with every cloud there's a silver lining but, the truth be told - and I'm a firm believer of the truth - for a while I was struggling with my experience with Elizabeth. I couldn't figure out what I had won, all I could see was that my losing her was one big black stormy cloud. But then I realised that, as every day went by and I thought about her every second and smiled, I knew that meeting her, knowing her and above all loving her, was the biggest silver lining of all.
She was better than pizza, better than olives, better than Fridays and better than spinning and even these days when she is no longer with us - and I'm not supposed to say this - of all my friends, Elizabeth Egan was by far my favourite.
> If You Could See Me Now by Cecelia Ahern.