She was nothing closed to be called beautiful. Thin, pale, and hair was a mess. Among the few of those hundreds she was quite, small. And smaller was her hope. Surely nothing much of a dream girl for any boy, not even close.
It will even be wrong to say that I was a popular one there. But I had friend unlike her in that school.
Then we both had some common taste in drawing arts, mangas, cartoons. So becoming friends was much obvious.
We met much long ago sharing our views on some small and other large topics. After the conversation went through ages, days passed and turned into months and then years. We talked more than anything we ever did in our individual lives. And calls were long, till nights.
Both of us had some dreams some goals and, well, none of them not even our own self was valued among the eyes of the world. So falling in love was a necessity. And both of us knew we loved each other, but none, really could tell.
And then came a time when both of us turned away. She was not a girl to love, I would tell myself, for I was very much confident that she was not the kind for me. After all she wasn't the dream girl, not even close.
So I started shifting from her. She was not beautiful. I needed someone beautiful. So I fell in love with another girl. One of a kind again. A dream for any boy. Perfect were her imperfections and heavenly was she. I started cherishing her, more and more. Without her knowing even my name I started to draw her down, to sketch her face, to dream and see her extraordinary everywhere. She became my life and thus I finally thought that I was in love.
And then she left as unexpectedly as she came. I went on to become depressed to sit at a corner alone. I was not okay.
It was then that I heard her voice again. Plain as usually. Nothing to call it something very pleasing. But it was the only voice that talked to me after all that. I knew she was sad, maybe much more heartbroken than I was, for she loved me. But still she managed to keep the tone static and encouraging me to move on in life.
What is love? I would say. And my mind would think of that not so beautiful, simple, uninteresting, yet caring girl. Then we would talk again. Of any nonsense that would make pure sense in the conversation. We are so free with each other we could even talk about the gravest secrets of a boy and a girl and laugh that how stupid they were.
She was nothing of a sugarcoated breathe, rather a very ordinary girl who didn't even liked to comb her hair. Thus I often used to wonder, how did I fell for a girl so static when I liked sophistication more? But then I guess that was love when you look at someone and you can feel calm that they were with you.
And then one day she too left and I kept on wondering... What is love?