The Ghost of Forever

I was looking at our school window with my nose an inch away from pressing against the glass.           

The way the sun lit her hazelnut hair and emerald eyes made her look so breathtakingly perfect during the day. Her cheeks would glow slightly red every time she smiles. She beamed with confidence most of the time, but she would bite her lips and press her palms together whenever she got nervous. Her hair fell on her shoulders with so much fluidity it looked like water that floated in mid air. She smiles with such a genuine expression that it would reflect pure radiance and magnificence. She would pout her lip slightly, scrunch her nose, and pull her hair back over her ear every time there was a question she couldn’t answer. There was humility and modesty in the way she exists.

She was perfect.

Me? I will just be in the other building, her window directly across mine. We were a few meters apart, separated by walls and glass, yet she never looked at me. She would always be jotting something down on her journal or listening to the teacher. She would always look at everyone around her with such clever eyes that seem to demand information. The way she looked at the world was different. She was different.

But how come she never looks at me?

It started out as a few stolen and fascinated glances. And then there was a time when she completely robbed me of myself. She took me away from the typical world and revealed to me an incredible one without her realizing it. I would be taught by her each day, I would grasp the moments when her humbleness and beauty would occupy her classroom.

We were at the same school but in different buildings, but it felt like she was always there beside me. It was always her that I’ll be looking at. And every day she would always astound me and surprise me. She never fails…

Every morning, she would walk from chair to chair with such elegance, that she would look like she was dancing. When no one’s around, I could see her help people—in what it looks like—every way she possibly could. She would be found beside them when they weep. She was always near enough to help them stand back up when they fall. Once, she even protected and shielded a student from the wrath of an unfair teacher. She was valiant and she was compassionate. She always takes priority in the needs of the people around her before herself.

She loved singing whenever the classroom was vacant. She would splurge most of her time writing on her journal, running her ball pen all over the pages as if she was drawing something.

But what startled me the most was the way she prays. At the end of every day, she closes the lights and doors of the classroom and sits on her chair. She would set her elbows on top of her desk and hold her hands as one. I could never listen to her voice, but when she prays; all of her emotions materialize on her face. There were instances when she would be crying and you could perceive all the anguish and pain on her forehead as she murmurs her prayers soundlessly. There would be times that she would be so occupied of joy, her features would light up and you could see in her expression that she was ecstatic and was full of energy.

She was so different and unique. I liked her.