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2 min read

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Dec 8, 2024

When I first saw you, I knew I would see you again. I saw you again — a stranger. No words were exchanged, but then our eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Then, just as quickly, it returned to normal.

I saw you once more, a passenger in a crowd of people, yet you stood out to me. And then it happened — you passed me a smile. But it wasn’t just for me; you were sharing it with everyone, gifting the world with your radiant smile.

And then we spoke. You said, “Hi,” and I forgot how to speak. You thought I was rude. The next day, I managed to say “Hi,” and we instantly became mere acquaintances.

We said nothing more and nothing less, and yet I never caught your name. When I finally received the gift of your name, I rolled the words around my tongue, searching for the most pleasing way to say it.

You were so perfect from afar. You seemed like my missing piece. I didn’t need to know you to believe you would understand me. But you weren’t mine to open up to. You would, and could, never be mine. We would always be separated by a tempered glass wall — sacred to touch and impossible to break through. I could only look through this wall, never becoming part of the images I saw.

Fate was against us, you and I, yet we couldn’t fight the universe's will because there was no “us.” All my hopes for our together were ruined by a surface-level friendship and the rules and standards we wouldn’t dare to defy. No matter how much I longed to pass through that glass wall and take a leap of faith, I knew it would only lead to unfaltering disappointment.

You will always remain a distant wish, another what-could-have-been — a possibility of my chance at finding “true love.”

“Hi,” you said to me again, smiling. “How are you doing?” “I’m fine,” I replied, smiling at the chance to interact with you. I didn’t know how to form the right words to say, and then you walked away clueless, moving farther from the glass wall.