As I walked down the diverse and lonely halls of a thousand emotions, a voice called out. An eery voice that always whispered unintelligible things.
After a while, the voice called out saying my name again and again, like a broken record that would never stop. Annoyed, I gave in and searched for the voice that would always disturb me. As I looked around, I finally found the source of the voice — a girl in a pink lace cocktail dress.
As the girl in the pink dress smiled and curtsied, no longer did I feel other emotion except one. In return, I sheepishly smiled, earning her laughter that made my day brighter. As we moved on, the girl in the pink dress continued to whisper, but as always, the words were as foreign as ever.
I couldn't help but notice that the girl in the pink dress was no ordinary person. She was bright like the sun and livelier than the paintings that I had ever seen, while I was plain and dull, and as dark as the moon — my polar opposite.
Every day, as we met at our little spot, we would exchange poems, though I personally disliked activities such as writing and things like literature. Every time the girl in the pink dress gave me her poems, I would just blatantly read and compliment her, deciding not to pay any more attention since I could not comprehend anything out of it.
As the weeks passed, the girl in the pink dress became more and more ever-shifting. Her whispers became shouts, and her smiles that always shone and made everything seem brighter slowly vanished little by little.
I later on inquired but she dismissed me with words of assurance, and a sad smile that I still could not understand. Nevertheless, I nodded and continued.
As the bell that signaled the end of our time together sounded, I quickly said goodbye as I left her alone. As I walked farther away, I stopped and looked back. The girl in the pink dress was still in the corner of our spot, unbeknownst that she was wearing a face that I would never see again.
I returned after days as I was caught up by other things. To my surprise, the girl in the pink dress was nowhere to be found. I looked around all the halls, slightly shocked that I felt more comfortable than before.
As I kept on searching, at a place that I would never have expected, was a piece of paper that seemed so worn out. I immediately recognized the penmanship and realized that it was hers — the girl in the pink dress had written it.
It was a poem that was filled feelings and emotions that I could understand. Themes of pain, suffering, sadness were all so evident that I couldn't help but cry and sympathize.
Feeling bitersweet, I dropped the poem and ran. I ran, never turning back, taking the memories that me and the girl in the pink dress shared together that will forever haunt me.
