Memories of the Broken-Hearted Girl 1
In the darkness of my room, I think about the girl. The girl died of a broken heart, literally. She was born with a heart defect. We were classmates in our third year of high school. Why do I think of her? Is it the boredom?
I’ve been feeling disconnected with the world recently. People I’ve known most of my life don’t seem to be what they are anymore. You think you know a person, but not really. Maybe I’m just seeing something I haven’t seen before, something that’s always been there, a hidden aspect. And all those feelings and perceptions built on that false understanding comes tumbling down.
The girl liked to read and write. We were in the high school paper together. She wrote Feature. I wrote News, Editorial and Sports. We were sent to journalism contests against other high schools in the city, and then the province. We never really reached the national level. I was labeled as the most silent in our class. But this girl, she was more silent than me. Short hair, pale, petite. I will always picture her in her high school uniform forever.
I wanted to say to her, look how similar we are. We both love to read. We both love to write. We both are recognized in this high school for our writing skills. The ability to string words together, to line up sentences into paragraphs, to write a story. But all these were just in my head. I was shy and silent, as shy and silent as she was. Most of what passed for conversation between us were two or three-sentence exchanges. Glances, wordless gestures. It’s as if all of the words we could have exchanged we poured into the pages.
Well, I did not finish high school. I dropped out, and wandered the world for a bit, ‘walking the earth’ in Eastern Martial Arts parlance. I trudged valleys and mountains and meditated under the shade of giant trees. When I came out of that episode of my life, I found myself enrolled in another high school to repeat the final year, and all of my previous classmates have gone on to college.
Year pass, the internet is invented, then websites, then social networking websites. I was then in college, I remember I was in the lobby of the dormitory, taking advantage of the lightning-fast internet connection of the University. It was the weekend and I had no classes. Following my habit, I spent the day watching funny videos of animals, mostly cats. Out of the blue, I remembered the girl.
. . .