(entry: 26.11.25)
I noticed him before I knew his name.
There was a spark of interest in his eyes. Whenever I sensed it in someone, I instinctively stepped back. It made me self-conscious, unsettled, as though I had been seen too clearly. So I did what I always did: I retreated.
For weeks, we existed in passing. Brief conversations in hallways, a wave upon sight, a polite greeting, my practiced smile. Nothing more. Nothing dangerous.
Then one day, he sat next to me.
We talked. Exchanged numbers. He sent me the math problems I hadn't managed to finish. When he asked how to spell my name, I told him — teasingly — to try it himself. Only later did I realize how easily that banter had slipped from me, how natural it felt. That evening, alone in my room, I searched for reasons not to like him and found none. Wealth or ambition, background or future — I wanted to look past all of it. I wanted to look only at him.
A month passed.
We texted, though his messages remained neutral, almost careful, while mine overflowed with emojis, stickers and warmth. It felt unbalanced. In person, he still smiled at me — openly, kindly. Even my honest friend—Lara, bringer of joy in this monotonous life — told me he was staring holes into me during lectures. She was certain he liked me.
Once, he asked where I lived. In my confusion, I kept it vague- not wanting to hand out my address too quickly. Later, I learned he owned an old blue car, an oldtimer. Perhaps he had wanted to take me for a ride. One day we saw him in it, and he waved at me with that smile. It was adorable how the color of his hat matched the green of the car.
Mostly, though, we just wished each other luck for exams. He once showed up at a study session I had mentioned — at the very next session a week later—and asked if I had attended a different one. That was October. Early November.
In early December, we texted again about university. When I asked—by text—if he wanted to study together, he didn't reply for days. Eventually, an apology came: he had been busy studying. By then, my feelings had fully blossomed, and here, I was already thinking about letting them go.
The last week before Christmas felt heavy.
On Monday, he sat behind me with his friends. I sensed glances. We didn't greet each other right away — and for once, I didn't smile. Neither did he.Tuesday, he wasn't there.
Wednesday, I sat a few seats behind him and saw him turn, searching the room as if looking for someone. Later, when one of his friends returned to their seat, Cassian almost twisted his head 180 degrees to glance at me. It was so abrupt, it made me chuckle aloud. I met his gaze once, then looked away.
That afternoon, my friends and I ended up sitting directly behind him. I noticed not only his glances, but the careful scrutiny of one of his friends. It made me uncomfortable, as though I were being measured. Judged. For the first time, I wondered whether I was pretty at all. On the stairs later, he avoided me — or perhaps he was simply as self-conscious as I was. He did greet me, though.
On Friday, he sat two rows behind me again. And when his group stood in the hallway as I left, I slipped past them. Or rather, I slipped past them. Yeah, right — of course was wearing heels!!! (current situation: silently screaming and kicking the blanket)
You know a girl's information network can be truly amazing.Few weeks after realizing I liked him, I did what girls do: I researched his name.
I found his private Instagram. A friend requested to follow him and was rejected. I found his LinkedIn. His surname led me further than I should have gone—to a death certificate, then to his father, listed as a chief mourner. His father's LinkedIn. His company website. Photos of Cassian.
I couldn't find his mother. I don't think he has siblings.
This is where I should have stopped myself...
...but also kinda where I lost myself.
I adjusted my clothing to what I imagined he might like. HELLO?!?! How crazy is that, I definitely won't do that EVER again. It took me a while to realize what I was doing — reshaping myself for the possibility of being chosen.
...and yet..
there is nothing wrong with liking someone. It makes life brighter. It gives shape to empty days. Perhaps, if I would have carried less sadness with me through adolescence. Frankly put; I might not have fallen into depression in high school if I had allowed myself a crush back then.
Side track: On Christmas, I sent him a Merry Christmas message. Half an hour later, he replied—without typos (a FIRST) and a Christmas tree emoji. Just like that one time he wished me luck early in the morning before an exam. Honestly, it made my day. My mother even asked if I was plotting something—I apparently had that sparkly look in my eyes. Still, it was a neutral message.Nothing more, nothing less ~
And so I want to end this uncertainty here.If he was ever interested — or still is — I pray (for once, because I never do), that he'll find the courage to approach me again. He approached me first, and I retreated. (yep he approached me first and i retreated- because my heart needs time to lower its walls.)
If not, I will look back on this as a nostalgic, somehow beautiful memory of my first love.
What I fell for were our cheeky conversations, that adorable smile, and the beautiful sparkle in his eyes.
To You:
The living daydream of my past three months.One to whom almost all my thoughts belonged.To you, I gifted my time — and I regret none of it.