Memory of Ashes

Solitude can be your best friend or your worst enemy. Perhaps it is the most cliche thing to say, but there is a reason why people call it a cliche. Afteral, if it was not true, it would not have been overused and turned into a cliche in the first place or maybe it is not true and it is one of those white lies everyone uses to comfort one another. Was she just comforting me as I held in her in my arms and watched her slowly fade away? 

Seven years have passed since that day. Seven long years have I mourned for the loss of my mentor and my companion. I was just a student when I met her. The first time I saw her is no longer a clear memory to me, but I'm sure she still remembers every single detail of our encounter. Her memory is far better than mine or as she would have said: “Male attention to detail does not reach further then the size of a female's breasts and behind. And besides, my memory is eternal.” I do remember seeing her sit at the window of the main hall at my university. She was always alone and seemed out of place, as if she did not quite belong there. Her long black hair was always tied up in a messy knot, which was the style of most female students, but unlike them she wore no makeup. Later on she would tell me she never wore makeup because it she preferred to be able to bury her face in her pillow at any time of the day without having to worry about smudging. In those days she dressed plainly, simple jeans or when she really did not give a fuck, she would wear sweatpants. She always wore a T-shirt and no matter what season she always wore a hoodie which was just a little too big for her. I was sure she was a student but could not imagine what classes she took for she was always just sitting there whenever I passed by. I knew she was a freshman just like me, because when I asked my seniors if they knew who she was, they would tease me about my Asian obsession, but honestly answer they never noticed her before. I never dared approach her during the first two years at the university, but when I returned from the long summer break to start my third and last year, she was no longer there. How I hated myself for being a wuss. Why had I not worked up the courage to start a conversation with her? But somehow I knew why I never walked over to her. She had a certain quality to her that seemed to repel everyone. In the two years I watched her from the other side of the hall, noone had approached her or even sat close to her. It was by no means a feeling of hostility for she always wore a sllight smile and warm look on her face. It is only later that I realized why nobody ever dared disturb her. She was not part of the world as most humans know it.