Thank you.

Well, i usually write in my journal, but i would be trying this blog.

Today started off as any other day—normal, uneventful. (i am not complaining, thought!)

It was colder than yesterday, so I layered three shirts to keep warm. Everything was going as usual; I watched two movies since i had nothing to do, talked with my family, and caught up with my friends. We’re on vacation, which is why we haven’t seen each other in a while.

Then, in the middle of our conversation, i got informed that a beloved teacher i knew passed away today, maybe yesterday—I wasn’t sure. But i got the news today. The moment I heard it, I felt the familiar weight that always visited me when i lost someone dear. Shock silenced me, and I just sat there, unable to say a word. There was this heavy sensation in my throat; I didn’t cry. but left me very overwhelmed, I closed my phone and stared at the blank wall—the same wall I often settle in front of to draw, read, and study, etc.

I thought about her. No, pounderd. a part of me hoped it was a made-up lie by my friends, because they have always played some pranks, and a part of me thought she was finally at peace. since she fought a long battle with cancer. The last day we saw her, she didn't tell us she would disappear for some year and a half. and we didn't know nor feel. well to be frank. i dont remember the time she was absent, but somehow it was nearly those years. i would check on her from time to time; the last time i messaged her, at the end of the conversation, she told me to pray for her. and i did as always.


Now i wish i held my old self and told her to break her shy side she always held in other classes and hers and maybe chat with her too—to just talk, to just say something. But I never did. That part of me always grabbed my hand and pulled me away, silencing every conversation with everyone before it could begin. On every occasion, i wished i somehow disappeared, and—let's not talk about that. I despised, no, despise my old self, but that doesn't help me now, too late I let that side go and realised my mistakes. I fucking hate whenever i remember her or whenever I remember the words I never said to people i met and especially her.

She was always kind to me, and I wish I had known her better. She had been my teacher since the first grade. She even changed schools when she found out my friend and I were transferring. I never had the courage to truly connect with her.

There are two who taught the same class—one fades, the other emerges. I know her presence will never disappear. her laughter will still linger in the same class she taught, and in the knowledge she shared, I will forever hold onto it.

i hope i can keep up with you in the world you are in. and on the other way, perhaps time will find me. We can meet again.