I'm a Chinese girl, but I study in a boarding school in England.
When I first started studying in that boarding school, there was this girl in my class whom I didn't really notice the first few days. Let's just call her, "Jane T." for the purpose of this, but that's not her real name, of course.
After the first few days I took more notice of her. She was very pretty, in my opinion anyway. She was a very friendly, outgoing person, and she already seemed to have made loads of friends even though we had only been there for a few days. In our Cookery lessons, I got paired up with her accidentally. I say accidentally because there was another girl in my class with the same name. This girl I hated very much at that time, but now I'm extremely good friends with her. Let's call her "Jane S." Since my surname started with an "S" too, I was always paired with her because the teachers used alphabetical order. We both disliked each other, and when the Cookery teacher said I would be paired with Jane, Jane T. was the one who approached me instead. You could say I was relieved that I didn't get paired with Jane S. yet again. Anyway, Jane T. was very, very nice to me.
In Art, I sat opposite her because I thought I liked her a lot from what I had seen in Cookery and wanted to be friends with her. I thought she had a great sense of humour, and she always managed to make me laugh. Once, in Art, I was laughing so much at one of her jokes that my teacher got worried about me and asked if I wanted to go to the medical centre or not. Looking back at this now makes me smile. I had no idea how much I would treasure that memory back then.
A week or two later, I started to slowly realize that I didn't just like this girl as in 'wanting to be friends with her'. I wasn't shocked about it or anything. I accepted the fact that I was in love with this girl quite easily.
I told two or three friends about it. They were more shocked than I was. But they, too, came to accept it.
I had dreams about my future with that girl. I could just imagine us two sharing a home together. We would be happy, and maybe we could adopt a child. We would spend our time laughing and smiling and just enjoying each other's presence.
But deep down, I knew that it was not possible.
I tried my best to be friends with that girl. I was in a dorm with her best friend, so she often came into the dorm to visit her best friend. The two of them would talk for ages, and sometimes I would butt in. I would sing Chinese songs to her, and she told me that I was really amazing at singing. Sometimes I sang English songs too. I had brought a lot of chocolate and sweets with me to school, and when she saw one particular packet of sweets she was like, "OH MY GOD I LOVE THOSE." So I gave the whole packet to her along with a few bars of chocolate that I knew she liked too and she couldn't believe I was so nice to her. She hugged me. I was so shocked when she did. It was the only time she ever got so close to me, but I was so shocked that I couldn't even enjoy and cherish that moment properly. And then she let go after what felt like a second only. Even so, it was enough to make me happy for the rest of the night.
Once, she forgot to do her Spanish homework and she only realized it when she walked into the lesson. Thankfully, the teacher wasn't there yet, so I lent her my homework for her to copy. She said 'I love you' to me after that. I knew she didn't mean it in the real way; she was only saying it 'cause I'd helped her escape the Spanish teacher's wrath, but it still made me full of hope.
And then one day, when I was singing an English love song, she asked me if I had a boyfriend or not. I said no. I really wanted to confess to her at that moment, but I was scared. I had a really close friend there who knew my secret, and Jane's best friend, whom I had also told my secret to, was there as well. They were the ones who actually told Jane.
It was a really cheesy and embarrassing confession that wasn't even made by me. My close friend said, "Well, she wishes to express her deepest feelings from her heart to someone." And Jane was like, "Who?" And my friend was like, "Well, look in the mirror."
Yep, cheesy. I was dying of embarrassment and burying my head in my pillow (we were in the dorm). I can remember it so well. And then Jane was just staring in disbelief and she was all like, "You're joking, right? You must be joking."
It was horrible. It was really horrible. But, at least it was out. At first I thought I should never have let it out. Now I look back, I think it was the right decision to tell her. I really do.
After I told her, we only had one more Cookery lesson together before the teacher changed pairs. That Cookery lesson we hardly said anything to each other. In Art, I moved to set with the same friend who had made the confession for me. Art lessons became less fun, even though I was sitting with a friend.
Then Jane made a new friend. Let's call this new friend... "Mary". I hated Mary. Still do. Jane liked Mary a lot though back then. I couldn't, and I still can't, see why she liked Mary so much. Jane liked Mary so much she couldn't bear not to tell her about the secret. So she told.
After she told, she would come into my dorm with Mary and they would tease me about it. Mary kept pestering me with questions. She once asked me if I wanted to have sex with Jane. It was just really, really humiliating and I didn't know what to do. The first week after the rejection I had just felt numb and nothing else, but after Mary started being horrible to me, I finally felt something. Despair. I cried myself to sleep every night.
Under the influence of Mary, Jane started being horrible too. Jane was right in front of me as she walked through the door, and she could have held it open for me, or even if she didn't I would have managed to get through the door in time. But what happened was that she literally slammed the door shut in my face. I was hurt. Very, very hurt. I looked at Jane, and I thought, why, why do I love this girl so much? I began to hate her as well, but that didn't stop me from loving her.
Jane used my love for her to get more chocolate and sweets from me. And I couldn't say no. I just gave her the treats she wanted. On Valentine's Day, I bought her a whole bag of sweets and gave it to her. I asked her if she hated me. She said no. I couldn't understand. If she didn't hate me, why was she slamming doors shut in my face? Why did she throw away a picture that I'd put my whole heart into drawing just for her?
At that time, it had already been around 5 months since the confession. She asked me if I still loved her. I said I didn't know, even though I knew I did, I just couldn't say it. I said "I'm sorry" to her. She asked me what for.
That I really didn't know. For loving her, maybe? For loving her and hating her and not knowing how I really felt about her? I didn't know. So that's what I said.
For her birthday, I drew something for her. I wasn't the best at drawing, but some people said I was pretty good, and I liked drawing a lot at that time. So I drew a picture of a boy holding a bunch of flowers for her. I thought it was the most amazing thing I'd ever drawn, and I put a lot of effort and time into it. I was so proud of it that I had almost wanted to keep it for myself. But I gave it to her. She said she would pin it up on her poster board in her dorm. A week later, someone found it in the rubbish bin. If I wasn't heart-broken before, that certainly broke my heart for sure.
I had dreams where she liked me back. I would wake up from those dreams trying hard not to cry. Reality was cruel.
I actually wanted to commit suicide once. I know I may sound silly and dramatic, but I really did. I had a friend who thought about committing suicide too, because she hated the school like hell and she wanted to go home but her parents didn't care in the least bit, didn't want to listen to her. And the friend who confessed for me, she missed home a lot. Not enough to commit suicide, not enough to even think about it, but enough to cry quite a bit. There was one evening when all three of us just sat on the hill together and talked about our hopes and dreams and sorrows, and then we ended up crying. All three of us. We sat there crying for ages and ages.
It's been a while since all that happened. Now the sorrow is gradually ebbing away, but at times my heart still aches. I still cry myself to sleep some nights. I still love her. She's no longer friends with Mary. Now she says that she never saw what was so good about Mary. I wish she has seen that earlier. Maybe it wouldn't have hurt so much if that were the case.