The first day of the new school year, my second year sitting once again in this same school.
A normal class. Everyone was on break after a tense literature lesson. The sound of the bell rang, signaling the end of the period, and students began heading out to chat and grab breakfast. I stayed in the classroom, face weary, eyes lost in the distance as I rested my head on the desk, staring out the window.
To be honest, I didn't have a single close friend in high school. Even though I tried to reach out and talk to people, no one really seemed to click with me. In this class, I didn't even have anyone I knew from before. It made me feel truly out of place.
While I sat silently, gazing outside, I overheard my classmates start whispering and pointing toward the window.
"Hey, isn't that Malid, the president of the art club?" "Yeah, I heard she won third place at the provincial art contest last year." "That's right, didn't the principal personally visit her house to award the prize too?" "Yeah, and I think she's in the D track, right…"
I froze when I heard her name. Malid.I lifted my head, following their fingers with my eyes, and there she was outside the window.
'Malid? Ah, it really is her.' My old classmate from middle school, the one I couldn't stop thinking about throughout last summer. Yet, I never had the courage—or even the tiniest bit of guts—to go up to her and say a word. Pathetic, isn't it?
Well… she's not exactly famous enough that the whole school knows her. More like, she's known among teachers and people in the art club. But still, just by being there, she seemed to shine. That's the difference between talent and… well, someone like me.
What about me? I'm not just some NPC who repeats the same routine every day. I have feelings, I have dreams. It's just that no one ever notices them.
In my memory, Malid was always cheerful, lively, and full of energy when talking with others. But I also knew no one is perfect. Maybe no one else saw it—or maybe it was just me—but behind that bright smile, there was sometimes a hint of loneliness.Maybe I noticed because I paid too much attention to her. Hey, don't get the wrong idea, I'm not some creep stalking people. Back in middle school, I just… couldn't help noticing her more than others.
I remember one night that summer. I stayed up late, writing stories until past midnight. Out of boredom, I opened my phone, scrolling through news feeds for inspiration. By chance, I opened the chat app, and there she was—still online. It was already 1 a.m. What was she doing awake at that hour?
Was she up late drawing? Or maybe she just couldn't sleep?
I stared at the glowing status mark on the screen, wrestling with myself. Should I say something? Ask her why she was awake? But I couldn't muster the courage to even type a single word. My finger hovered, then I just turned off the phone in silence. Like there was some invisible wall that had always stood between us.
I went back to my story draft, but my thoughts refused to settle. They kept drifting back to her.In my head, one thought repeated over and over:
'I really don't stand a chance, do I?'