The Ghost I Chased
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On the first day we met, we were just strangers. You came in to help me settle into a new school and I only saw you as my guide-someone who was bossy and nerdy. I didn’t particularly like you because of that. I preferred the other ‘coaches’ more as they were friendly and approachable. You seemed closer with the boys, so we didn’t talk much.
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That all changed when we ended up in the same CCA as you. Even then, there was no spark. You were still a leader-unsurprisingly- and I expected 21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡP0Brl4Azb0
the first person I met. But I decided to look again. Somewhere along the line I saw past what I initially thought of you. You weren’t the nerdy, bossy guy I assumed you were. You were kind, funny, respectful and surprisingly warm. While others acted wild, you stood grounded. You stood out and somehow touched my heart. I didn’t just like you. I loved you. And in my heart I promised I wouldn’t feel that way for anyone else.
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From then on, I started noticing you everywhere– at recess, during assemblies, at CCA. I wanted you around. If I didn’t see you that day, it affected me more than I’d admit. There were days I went home in tears. You unknowingly became my reason to keep going. I started noticing everything about you–your grey bag with that unique orange key chain, your hairstyle which other girls teased but I secretly adored, even the impression your house and car left on me. Despite the differences in our lives, none of that ever mattered to me. I saw you– not your family, not your background, not your grades.
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Eventually, I realized we used the same school gate. Some days, I waited for you just to walk behind you to the bus stop. When I couldn’t find you I felt a pang of disappointment– but I knew you would still be there tomorrow.
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For a long time, I kept this to myself. Until one day, during a game of ‘Truth and Dare’ I was pushed to reveal the truth. The girls in my class know. They joked about your hair and our age difference. But I never found it strange. Thirteen or not, feelings don’t ask for permission
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When you graduated from CCA, I held back tears. I was proud of you–but heartbroken knowing I’ll see you less. Without you, CCA felt dull. There was no one to quietly impress, no one to casually glance when I was bored. I remembered how you’d often choose to sit behind me which made me feel a little shy. Those moments made me believe that you may have liked me too.
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On that day, I poured my heart into a card we wrote for you. I added my number anonymously, hoping you’d reach out.
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The next day– my birthday–you did. You messaged me to thank me for the card. It felt like the best gift I could have received. That simple text made me feel like a new chapter was beginning. I let you view my statuses and when you saw it was my birthday, you wished me. That small moment made me trust you more. I felt like I could lean on you if I ever need someone.
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I kept looking for you during recess, always waving and smiling. You’d smile back and sometimes stare at me a little longer than usual before quickly looking away. Those fleeting moments gave me hope. I kept writing about you in my journal. And since we no longer had CCA together, I’d quietly find ways to catch glimpses of you, walking past your classroom, learning your schedule, just to feel closer.
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But slowly, things began to change. You stopped viewing my statuses. At first I thought I was posting too much, so I gave you space. I figured your O-Levels were taking a toll. Occasionally, I’d let you view them again– but still nothing.
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Your replies soon became colder– short, delayed, distant. I told myself you were just busy. But over time I couldn’t deny what it felt like– you didn’t want to talk to me anymore. You stopped waving. You waved at everyone else, but not me. Our texts faded and so did our connection. You no longer notice me, even though I notice you every day.
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So I stopped. I stopped everything– the texts, the smiles, the hoping. I couldn’t chase someone who didn’t feel the same. Loving someone who doesn’t love you back is like hugging a cactus, the harder you hug, the more painful it is to let go.
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If you don’t feel the same, that’s ok. Just know – you broke my heart. And those pieces won’t be easy to put back together
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But if you ever read this, I hope you understand one thing:
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I loved you, I really did.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡc5Wu0xonfL
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and then Add to home screen.