Insignificant. That's all any of this is, I'm aware, but I can't help but miss them.

Have they even noticed? They don't know I'm here, I know that, but have they even noticed I'm gone? They seem so happy.

I'm glad for it, don't get me wrong. They have so much to live for. I just wish I wasn't stuck having to see it.

The world's cold. That much I know. They never did heat the halls of this place. Just wish it didn't become my waking hell.

He's such a pretty boy. He used to call me that, back in the day: "pretty boy." He never even looks my way, though. It shouldn't bother me. They can't see me. But it does bother me, gets under my skin.

I hover behind him. My feet don’t make a sound, shuffling along the classroom tile. Honey. The prettiest honey boy. I could almost feel warm again when I was with him; almost feel my heart beating like it used to.

I crouch in front of him. He looks past me, staring intently at the white board. 

My head hits the desk.

Why won't this class go by faster? Why does he have to be stuck sitting here? His honey eyes stuck to the whiteboard when they could be on me. Stop it, you're getting in your head. He loves you, he has to.

I just wish he missed me.

But he doesn't. He goes about his life, nothing mattering. I'm starting to understand why vengeful ghosts are things. Don't hurt him, he doesn't deserve it. But doesn't he?

My heart hurts.

He looks at me. My heart's cold. He doesn't see me. He's looking out the window. Bastard. Got my hopes up for nothing.

Maybe I could wear a sheet? Surely then he'd look at me. He'd have to. I'd be a stereotype though. Maybe I could find some floral sheets? He always loved flowers. He looked so happy whenever I gave them to him. He had a meadow by his house. I wonder if he can see his house?

I look out the window. It's raining.

Cold.

I lay on his desk. He doesn't see me.

I wonder if they know where I am? Do they even know what happened to me? The last time they saw me was at the party. Have they not wondered what happened?

I haven't even been reported as missing. My body's probably started to rot in that water. Good riddance.

But he could see me like that. I could feel his touch. Have my tears wiped by his calloused hands. I can't even cry anymore. I'm not a crybaby anymore.

Should I still be crushing on him? Should I still love him like this? He doesn't even know I'm gone. He doesn't even know I'm not here. I am here, but that's not the point.

The bell rings. I sink through the desk as he grabs his things. Another day done, another heartbreak done. I follow him out of the door, out of the building.

I'm stuck with him. He's mine. But he doesn't even see me.

Bastard.

I love him.

I watch him run to catch up with the others. Their faces blur beneath their books and umbrellas. They don’t see me, none of them. He smiles at one of their jokes, not bothering to avoid the rain.

God, I love him, don’t I? The feeling chills me to the core. I avoided it for so long. Years of my life wasted, and now the chance is gone. He doesn’t even know I’m gone. My body’s forfeit, and he’s not the least bit concerned.

The world feels like it’s shaking, shifting. I sink to the ground, burying my face in my knees. I can see through them. Invisible, gone to the world. 

They were my friends. They were all my friends. They loved me, I thought. They cared for me, they made me feel safe.

He made me feel safe.

I want to cry. The tears want to flow.

I’m not a crybaby anymore.

I hear my name.

My name.

Are they talking about me? I lift my head. He looks worried.  Have they noticed? Have they finally noticed I’m not here? That I’ve been gone? 

He puts his phone to his ear. I watch him. He doesn’t see me. It rings. My friends’ eyes cling to him. They all look worried. They’re all concerned.

My eyes widen. No one answered. He looks around, his eyes briefly glancing my way. I didn’t even get the floral sheet yet.

It takes a bit longer before all of them disperse. He starts to walk home; I follow. Does he see me? He can’t possibly see me. Stop getting your hopes up. You’re driving yourself insane. 

But…

My heart aches, a pounding drum in my empty chest. He sees me. He has to. He knows I’m gone, he knows something’s up. The bastard still won’t look at me.

That’s okay.

I love him.