As spring bloomed across Westwood, I felt a new sense of growth within me—I’d just passed 9th grade, moving on to the 10th, with a mix of excitement and melancholy. This year marked the time I had to say goodbye to someone I’d quietly admired for so long, someone who seemed the very definition of perfect.
Her presence brought a kind of magic into my life. The way she spoke, her energy, her kindness—it all felt as if it was crafted just for me. She wasn't a student, nor was she merely a friend; she was something more. She inspired me in ways I hadn’t imagined, lifting my grades and guiding me out of my own quiet shell. I became more open, braver, and happier, all because of her.
We met when I was 13, and at first, it felt so normal, like a simple friendship. But as the years passed, the feelings grew deeper, more real. She seemed to bring a light into my life, and I found myself thinking about her often, wishing for those moments to linger.
By the time I reached 15, I tried to remind myself it was too good to be true, that perhaps I should let go of the idea. But fate wasn’t on my side. Every time I tried to pull away, something seemed to bring us closer again. The connection I felt was so pure, so different from the typical ideas of love that Gen Z clings to.
Then, the day came when she left school. Tears blurred my vision, clouding my eyes as I watched her walk away. It was as if my heart itself had cast a veil, not wanting me to see her leave. Even now, as I look back on that feeling countless times, I realize this was my fairytale—a beautiful dream that I’ll hold close as long as I can.
