The Girl in the Corner of my Eye

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
She was always there in the corner of my eye, looking so sad, but whenever I turned to her, she showed me a smile.
She was always there, she was...

(rated PG for a hint of dark themes)

Submitted: November 01, 2014

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Submitted: November 01, 2014

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She was always there, in the corner of my eye. Not all the time, of course; she wasn't a ghost or anything. But she was definitely there. Her dark brown long hair was always the first thing I could see before her eyes: a dark as her hair, maybe darker, swimming with sadness. 

But the moment I looked at her, her eyes seemed to light up, just a bit, and she would smile. Whenever we talked, she spoke freely, she spoke with cheerfulness or sarcasm. No, she definitely wasn't a ghost. Because how could a ghost look so alive?

However, there was definitely something behind her smiles. Whenever we weren't talking, she looked so sad, so... lifeless. As though she were already dead. And that bothered me. Why was she this way? I tried asking my fellow classmates, but no one knew. Most didn't even know who she was. A girl who was so closed, giving off a depressing aura, and not well-known. That was her.

So why? Why was it that around me, her sadness disappeared? Why was it that she was hiding it from me? Weren't we friends? Didn't she want me to help her?

Maybe she didn't.

She was always there, in the corner of my eye. Waiting for me to turn to her. Sometimes I didn't. Sometimes I talked to other students in our class, but she was always there, waiting for me to turn around. And when I did, her eyes lit up like the stars lighting up the night sky. 

I should have paid more attention to her.

I tried asking her about her sadness. The first time, she brushed it off. The second time, she excused it. The third time, she told me that it was nothing. The fourth time, she told me that there was nothing to tell. The fifth time, she told me to stop. The sixth time, she didn't speak. 

There was no seventh time because I stopped asking.

I stopped turning, even if she was in the corner of my eye. When our eyes met, I turned away. Fine then, I thought, don't tell me. I just want to help you.

Maybe if I had pursued more, then she would have told me. She would have opened up. She would have gotten help. She would have been able to tell me how she felt in person, not through a letter. She would have...

She would have lived...

She was always in the corner of my eye, waiting. She was always there, she was...

She is always there in the corner of my eye, looking so sad, but whenever I turn to her, she's gone.


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