Her name was


who cares what her name was.

Knowing won’t help. Just because you have something to call her now, doesn’t mean you knew her any better.

She was one of those people that everyone knew

yet somehow

no one knew at all.

One day she just arrived. You got to class and there she was, sitting in the back by the window.

She was always looking out the window, oblivious it seemed, to everyone and everything else in the room. You thought she was sad, everyone thought she was sad. Sitting there quiet the way she was.

Soon, you just forgot about her, and then all of a sudden she would speak, or smile, or laugh, and you’d stop to admire her.

So beautiful.

Her happiness so overt and genuine, you feel a little bit foolish for ever thinking that someone so obviously content could be sad.

The first time you spoke to her, it was like


you two had been friends forever already. And by the end of the conversation, there was a bitter sweet taste in your mouth.

Sweet, because, now you’d broken the ice. You could say hello to her from then on, have more of conversations about nothing really, but they would have been just as good, anyway.

You would have even gone as far as calling her your friend.

But there was still the bitterness because even though you had her now, you resented the time you’d spent intimidated by her, wondering about her, watching her but saying nothing

when it was as easy as just saying hello.

A part of you wanted to immediately go tell everyone else that you spoke to her. You did.

But for a while you kept it to yourself because that way

its was almost like you had her to yourself. And you liked that idea.

Then one day, she just didn’t show up. Really, it was no big deal until the second day, and then everyone really started to wonder on the third. On the fourth day, you asked if anyone had spoken to her

but that was stupid of you to ask because no one ever spoke to her. Just you.

But then this one said he spoke to her about a week ago, and that one said she spoke to her just days before. And another one said he even called her

and as you looked around at all the faces, you could see that everyone else felt the way you felt in that moment.

Disappointed, betrayed even. She’d been friends with them all.

You thought you were so special, having her to yourself, and all along, everyone had a piece of her.

But really, none of you had any of her, because now here she was, seemingly missing, and when everyone tried to figure out where she could have been, when you all tried to remember things she may have said, mentioned, told you that could have given any clues to where she was

or who she was

you all realized that you had absolutely nothing.

They announced her death at an assembly one morning. Suicide.

Sometimes, now, when you think back, you wonder if she ever really existed.

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