Delusion
The Illusion
Everything seems so perfect until the day comes when you start to see things differently.
You know how it goes. You’re living life on autopilot. You notice people in passing… faces, gestures, a certain way someone walks or laughs… and you think you’ve got them figured out. You build neat little boxes in your mind: the loud one, the quiet one, the funny one, the loner.
For me, she was the quiet one.
There was this girl I’d see almost every day. She was always there… sitting quietly in class, head bent over her notebook, hair falling like a curtain around her face. Or she’d be drifting through the corridors, eyes soft and distant, as if lost in thoughts only she could hear.
To me, it looked like there was no one around her. Like she moved in her own little world. She seemed happy… quiet… always as usual.
I suppose part of me thought she was like me… alone, a bit of an outsider. A silent observer while the world spun by.
I barely noticed her at first. She was like background music you don’t really listen to until one day, you realize the lyrics have meaning.
Then, out of nowhere, things began to change.
From somewhere… I honestly can’t even recall how… I got to know that she has so many friends. People who adore her. Friends who make her laugh so hard she tilts her head back, eyes shining. Friends who plan trips, share inside jokes, whisper secrets that leave her blushing.
I stumbled across photos of her on social media. In cafés, in parks, laughing, hugging people, making goofy faces. She seemed so… alive.
It hit me unexpectedly.
All this time, I thought she was invisible. Turns out, she was anything but.
And suddenly, I felt this weird distance between the version of her I’d built up in my mind and the real person she actually is.
I started replaying all those days I’d seen her sitting alone, convinced she was lonely, maybe even waiting for someone like me to notice her. Now I wondered if those moments were just pauses in her otherwise vibrant life.
For me, she had been a mystery, quiet and solitary. For others, she was the sun, lighting up their days.
I can’t help wondering if that’s how life always is. People carry entire hidden worlds inside them. We look at them and decide who they are, based on tiny fragments we see… a few words, a gesture, a certain silence.
And we think we know them.
But we don’t.
Instead, we project our own thoughts and wishes onto them. We craft stories about who they are and how they feel. We convince ourselves we’re right.
Sometimes, when the truth finally comes out, it feels like the ground shifts under your feet.
So now I’m left sitting here, thinking…
Was it her who changed, or was it simply my delusion breaking away?
Maybe the real illusion is thinking we ever truly know anyone at all.
The Discovery
After that first realization, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
It became this quiet obsession.
I’d still see her sitting alone sometimes, eyes down, fingers tracing patterns on her notebook. And a part of me wanted so badly to slip back into my earlier fantasy… that she was lonely, waiting for someone to talk to her.
But now I knew better.
I’d scroll past photos of her smiling in large groups. A party, a picnic, a festival night with strings of fairy lights overhead. Friends hugging her, laughing into the camera. She seemed so at ease, so different from the quiet girl I’d watched all those weeks.
And every time I saw those images, it felt like another piece of my illusion was crumbling.
I started thinking maybe everyone is like this. Maybe we’re all layered. Maybe we all have secret rooms inside us, doors we only open for certain people.
The idea fascinated me and terrified me at the same time.
Because if I’d been wrong about her… how many other illusions was I living under?
Still, despite everything, I couldn’t stop noticing her.
If anything, I became even more drawn to her. Because now she wasn’t just a quiet mystery. She was complicated. Real. A person with contradictions. And somehow, that made her more fascinating than ever.
She Seeks Me Out
Then things changed again.
She started noticing me.
It began with tiny, almost accidental moments.
I’d glance up from my notebook in class and catch her eyes on me. She’d blink, look away quickly, as if embarrassed.
Or I’d find her hovering near where I stood, pretending to scroll on her phone, frowning like she was searching for something… until I finally said hi.
One day, it just happened. She sat down beside me in the library. Her voice was soft when she said:
“Do you ever feel like… you’re surrounded by people but still completely alone?”
I remember feeling my chest tighten. Because that was the exact story I’d been telling myself about her for weeks.
We started talking more after that. Little conversations in corridors, texts late at night.
She began telling me how she didn’t have many close friends. How people misunderstood her. How she felt invisible sometimes, even in a crowd.
And the way she said it… the sadness in her eyes, the vulnerable tilt of her voice… it felt real.
I wanted to believe her.
But in the back of my mind, those images kept flickering like neon signs:
Her laughing with friends. Dancing. Hugging people. Alive in a way that didn’t fit her quiet, lonely narrative.
I didn’t know if she was hiding the truth from me… or if she truly felt alone despite the people around her.
Maybe both could be true.
The Confrontation
I carried it inside me until it felt like it might explode.
One afternoon, we were sitting outside under the old neem trees, their shadows scattering sunlight over the ground. A soft breeze moved her hair, and for a moment, she looked so delicate, so lost.
I finally said it.
“You know… I’ve seen you with your friends. I’ve seen how you laugh with them. How they’re always around you. I just… I don’t get it. Why tell me you’re alone?”
She went still. Completely silent, like someone had pressed pause.
Then she let out a long, soft sigh. Like a secret finally slipping out.
“Because it’s different with you,” she said. “With them, it’s fun. Loud. But it’s not always real. With you… I feel like I can be honest. Like you actually see me.”
I didn’t know what to say.
She looked away, voice trembling.
“Sometimes I tell people I’m fine because it’s easier. I tell you I’m lonely because… sometimes I am. Even if I’m surrounded by people. I like that you see me as quiet and mysterious. I like feeling… special.”
Her eyes shimmered, and for a second, I almost reached for her hand. But I stopped myself.
Because right then, I realized something huge.
She wasn’t just lonely. She also liked being seen a certain way. She liked having someone believe they were the only one who truly understood her.
And I couldn’t tell if that was vulnerability… or manipulation.
Or both.
The Resolution
It’s funny how truth can both free you and break you.
After that conversation, things changed between us.
We didn’t have a fight. No harsh words. No dramatic ending.
But something quiet slipped away. The illusion, maybe.
We kept being polite. Smiling in the hallways. Occasionally talking about nothing important. But the connection we’d shared… that electric thread of possibility… was gone.
And honestly, I think that was for the best.
I realized she wasn’t just the lonely girl I imagined. She was many things all at once… a friend, a performer, someone who carried secrets, someone who liked feeling special in the eyes of others.
For a long time, I thought it was my job to figure her out completely. To peel away every layer until there was nothing hidden.
But I’ve learned that people are allowed to have hidden rooms inside them. Places they keep private.
And that caring for someone doesn’t mean you have to possess every piece of them.
These days, I still see her sometimes.
She’s surrounded by friends, laughing so hard she nearly doubles over. Her hair catches the sunlight. Her voice rings above the chatter, bright and irresistible. People flock to her like moths to a flame.
And sometimes, for a moment, I feel that old ache… that idea that maybe she was waiting for someone like me.
But I don’t chase it anymore.
Instead, I stand where I am, watching her from a distance.
And I feel a strange mix of sadness and peace. Because now I know the truth, even if it’s complicated.
I’m not angry. I’m not heartbroken.
I’m just… awake.
And though she laughs with her friends, and I remain apart, I know I’ve grown.
I know how to see people… and let them be.
Because sometimes, letting go of the illusion is the most honest kind of love there is.
[END]
