Ch 10: Fellow Writer

Writing has always been an escape for me, a way to put my thoughts and ideas into words that could be shared with others. I used to write horror stories, and surprisingly, I had a decent fan following who would send me their own stories. It was an exchange of creativity, a community of people who loved the eerie and the unknown as much as I did.

One day, I came across a message from a fellow writer who shared similar interests. She was a storyteller like me, someone who loved weaving dark tales, and we connected instantly. Our conversations quickly shifted from just stories to more personal exchanges. We became writing buddies—sharing ideas, critiquing each other's work, and even helping each other with assignments. It was the kind of connection I never expected, but it felt natural.

Eventually, we decided to meet up. It was at one of those famous street food spots, the kind where you'd find a variety of flavors and vibrant energy. We exchanged our stories over hot, greasy food, and, to our surprise, found out that we lived in close proximity to each other. It was a small world after all.

From that point on, our relationship evolved. We weren't just writing buddies anymore. We spent more time together, sharing more than just stories. We talked about life, our aspirations, and the future. She was a few years ahead of me—focused, determined, and serious about her future. I, on the other hand, was a freshie at college, unsure about what I wanted to do with my life.

She was always driven, pushing herself toward her goals. I admired her ambition, but I couldn't help but feel unfazed about my own path. It became clear that my uncertainty was affecting her, and over time, it started to weigh on our connection. We had many discussions about it, but I think she began to realize that I wasn't serious about my career or my future.

One day, she called it off. I understood, though it was a little painful. She was someone who had a clear vision, and I couldn't offer her the same stability. I never blamed her for walking away. I wasn't ready for what she needed.

She graduated not long after, and we slowly drifted apart. We don't talk anymore, and sometimes, I wonder if I should have been more aware of her feelings and my own direction in life. But at the same time, I know we were both learning. We were both figuring things out in our own way.

Maybe it wasn't meant to last, but I'll always remember her as a fellow writer, someone who shared her stories with me, and someone who pushed me to think more seriously about my own future—even if I wasn't ready to hear it at the time.