Chapter Text
Twenty-six years ago, I was born.
How simple life was back then? We don't have to think about much. I am often envious of children. They have so much life and joy in them. They can laugh without thinking about how their face looked or if their teeth felt weird. Children enjoy life in its simple form. And I am envious of them.
I never knew my mother. She died giving life to me. So for the longest time, it was me and my father against the world.
When I was four, a girl moved in next door.
We clicked pretty quickly. And then suddenly, life got a whole lot more interesting. We would play in my backyard and roll around in the green grass.
Life felt so colorful.
Her name was "Y/n".
As girls, we would paint our nails and make lemonade. And draw stars on our hands. And laugh. We laughed so much. We laughed until tears stung our eyes and it hurt to laugh anymore. We would hug and keep each-other warm when it was too cold. She would cup my cheek with her cold hands. The pinky promises---How could I forget? We made so many pinky promises. So many. Countless things, like making exactly 2 paper stars a day for a month, or like staying together forever.
About that last promise, we would remind each-other of that one pretty often. We were inseparable. So I thought we'd stay together. Forever. I hoped.
Stupid me. How stupid of me to hope?
At the ripe age of fourteen, I realized something. I liked my best-friend. I was hopelessly in love with my best-friend, Y/N.
Every smile. Every laugh. Every glance. That she gave me. Stabbed me in the heart. I knew I couldn't have her. Two girls aren't meant to be together. Society doesn't condone it. "It is wrong" was etched into my bones, carved into my flesh, dripped into my blood, by my elders, by everyone I knew. I knew I couldn't have her. So I watched. I watched from the corner. As she smiled and laughed with me. Unaware of the monster I was. I wanted her so bad. But I couldn't have her. But still I hoped.
Hope. I hoped. How idiotic of me to hope?
We continued being the best of friends. Sharing homework answers. Passing notes in class. Keeping inside jokes. She helped me pick myself back up after my father's death. I loved her. So much. I knew it isn't worth pursuing. So I clung on to our precious friendship. She didn't have the greatest family, neither did I. But we had each-other, and that was all we needed to get through everything. We confided in each-other for everything. Secrets, mistakes, regrets---you name it. But like everything in my life, this too would get ripped from me.
At the age of nineteen, she left. She moved away. She abandoned me. And I was left to pick up the shards of the only good in my life. And like that, all the color was gone. I was left in a colorless world.
And yet. I hoped. I hoped she would come back. I hoped the colors would slowly return.
How could I hope? How could I hope after all that was taken away from me, even after hoping?