7 min read.
(As you read, please listen to “Serenade” by Franz Schubert and Rousseau to help set you in the mood I was in)

To you:

For the last couple of years, I have been on such an emotional rollercoaster that I did not know which way was up anymore. I’d seen the concrete, grey skies and the sunset red floor, confusing them for each other causing me to vomit violently.
When I got off said ride, I was dizzy for a while, mistaking close friends for lovers —a lesser, more subtle, reminding of the seemingly endless torture excursion I was on, although I could’ve gotten off at any time.
Naïve, right?
I wilfully tested and allowed my boundaries to be tried —and vigorously so.

Then, for a while, I was single. Still.
Just me.
No one.
I convinced myself of all of this.

I was learning to bear with the dizziness of the life inflicting twists and turns I somehow survived, then you casually strolled back into my life.
Slipping past my fortified defences ever so easily.
How? —The answer I do not care for… I am marvelled.

I looked at that staffing sheet and thought, “oh yeah… I remember her. She’s pretty cool”.
Then I saw you. How beautiful.
You had dyed your hair to match your skin. Perfect streaks of a light brown to make you look like a walking americano with milk. I was marvelled. Honoured in fact for life’s river delta of events to align us once again.
We spoke, chatted, caught up and you told me that you were only here for three days before you would go away again. That left me a little sad but it’s okay. I’ve had to deal with things like that my whole life.
As we talked about your future, I was already preempting compromises I’d potentially have to make for us to be together; indeed very brave, slightly weird from an outsider’s view but brave and, thus far, whatever I have put my mind to, I have at least tasted.
You’d go on to tell me that you plan to live across the country. Distasteful but not impossible.

With my reconnaissance mission almost done, I then made it my goal to get your unprovided ✨insta✨, which I wish was written on your forehead, just so that I could dig through your life a little more.
I couldn’t just ask anymore as times have changed. Urgh. Back in my day, it was not so blatantly obvious that someone liked you if they asked for your instagram. The world was still connecting and wholesome, carrying a true innocence with it. It wasn’t the clout chasing, demon with mal-intent, your 2nd cousin liked and also reposted your repost it is today, but I digress. I would get that instagram.

After our last day, I dug. Really, I did. Gosh you are hard to find. You grew up on the other side of the city so searching through my one-thousand-and-something following to see if we had mutuals was already a no. I needed a name. A handle. Your name. Urgh, your name is so common in your ethnicity. Literally, the first and last name. If I got a nickel for every account I opened with your name, I’d have at least $2 and 67 cents. I kid you not, I feel like I have at least opened 200 accounts in your name, and now have also probably opened my stalker pandora’s box side too. The 6-7 cents is an international inside joke and the masses can try come get me.

Your nickname. You told me your nickname.
Search. Found. *insert Drake and Lil Yachty “duhh” gif*.
Private account. No biggie.

I couldn’t just follow yet though. I had to make it seem like the instagram gods that listen and target us with suspiciously specific ads were still doing their thing. *insert gif again*. Otherwise it’d be obvious I searched for you. A couple of days it is then.

Time flew by and before my night time gaming, I requested.
Later, at some point, I checked and there your account was. In its full glory. Ready to be stalke-… umm *cough*… flipped… scrolled through.

Fast-forward and there he was. A guy.
Charming and someone, that to me, didn’t seem like would be your type. You subtly placed him so that people going through your page wouldn’t notice. He was your subtle flex. Cute. Could’ve been me but nevertheless, cute.
I then went into the self-created rabbit hole of how it seemed like you maybe had an interest in me. I’d see how clear as daylight nervous you got around me compared to everyone else. Debating my own courts, we deemed it as a desired love. An unconfirmed yearning for one another. One that had potential and could never really be. Because you are with him and I have someone still interested in me.
So be it.

End.

Explanation (Important):

I wrote this as me trying to make sense of a pretty chaotic couple of years emotionally. Everything felt all over the place—I couldn’t really tell what was stable anymore, and even after things calmed down, I was still kind of disoriented. I blurred lines between friends and something more, and honestly let people push my boundaries more than I should have.

Then I had a period where I was alone and convincing myself I was actually was (Keep a tab on that, because we will be coming back to this). That’s when she (just a girl I knew but had never been with) randomly came back into my life. It caught me off guard how quickly I was drawn back in—talking felt easy, and I started thinking ahead about “what if,” even though there were obvious complications like distance.

The middle bit is basically me overthinking and lowkey obsessing, especially trying to find her Instagram. It’s written a bit jokingly, but yeah, I was definitely more invested than I would like to admit.

Then I find her profile… and there’s another guy. That kind of kills the whole idea I’d been building in my head. I try to justify it, like maybe there was something there, but at the same time I know it’s not going anywhere.

And the ending’s abrupt on purpose —because that’s how it actually felt. No big dramatic finish, just a sudden “oh” moment where I snapped out of it and saw reality for what it was:
She was with someone
and if we look back at the beginning where I say

“Then, for a while, I was single. Still.
Just me.
No one.
I convinced myself of all of this.”

Was me just trying to ignore the ride that I am still in with another girl.