The night before the incident occurred was strange, very strange.

It was as if the universe was trying to communicate something to me, but I could not decipher the message. I remember feeling a sense of unease that I just couldn't shake off. The air was thick with something inexplicable, and I felt like a storm was brewing. Little did I know that what was about to happen would change everything.

Looking back, I can now see how that night was a turning point in my life, a moment when everything I thought I knew was challenged, and I was forced to look at things from a different perspective.

I still wish I would have handled things differently. If I could go back in time, I would have at least reacted differently that first time. And maybe, just maybe, if I had noticed all the signals I would have been able to notice how things were turning worse and worse with every second that passed.

Every single night I would do my usual routine on the bus. I would take out my sketchbook and start drawing, or I would pull out my notebook and write down my thoughts, or would simply sit there and reminisce about the day.

Even though it wasn't always what I wanted to do, it had become a sort of ritual for me, a way to unwind after a long day.

And everyone knows that following a ritual can be comforting and therapeutic. It was a time for me to reflect on my experiences and process my emotions, which helped me to feel more centered and grounded. As I gazed out the window and watched the world go by, I felt a sense of calm and peace wash over me. It was the only time I had to feel, without the constrains of the outside world pestering me.

Before that point, I had never paid attention to my surroundings while on that bus. Why would I? I was always lost in my own thoughts, trying to decompress and figure out how I felt. The bus rides had become my sanctuary, the only time of the day when I could truly relax after a stressful day at work. But as time went by, I started to feel an inexplicable sense of discomfort. Something within me was changing and it was becoming increasingly difficult to process my thoughts and feelings.

Life was often overwhelming for me. The hustle and bustle of people going about their day, the constant honking of cars, and the incessant chirping of birds became too much to handle at times. While others might find these little details beautiful, they felt like a burden to me, especially during certain occasions. The weight of these negative emotions slowly ate away at me, and I found myself struggling to cope. In those moments, it felt like the world had turned against me, and that nobody understood what I was going through.

It was a lonely place to be, and I often wondered if things would ever get better.

During most of my life, I had a difficult time balancing work and personal relationships. I felt as though I was going through the motions, like a robot programmed to act a certain way and say certain things.

I found myself smiling only because it was required, not because I was genuinely happy. It was disheartening to realize that one of the first lessons I learned after graduating high school was that being true to myself was not as useful as self-help advertisements made it out to be.

Because I was messy, weird, anxious, horny, stressed out and fucking hungry all the time. No one wanted to hire those.

The pressure to appear "normal" is immense, it’s so common for people hide their true selves and conform to societal expectations. I would know, I was one of them. Always adhering to certain norms, such as doing what is expected of me at the right time and complaining only the "accepted" amount. Additionally, that whole idea that we must maintain a perfect balance between being happy and sad, and we must be nice, but not too nice, lest we are perceived as weird.

So exhausting.

I had become something of an expert at putting on an act. But every single time I got into that bus, I knew I could be myself. Free of expectations, of norms, of masking. At least, that’s what I thought.

It was supposed to be my spot, my sanctuary where I could delve into the depths of my thoughts and unearth what I had concealed in the back of my mind throughout the day. It was my time to reflect, to introspect, to relax without any prying eyes or judgmental glances. It was a time where I could tune out the rest of the world and tune into myself. I cherished those moments, as they were the only moments where I could truly be myself without any facade. It was a place where I could let my guard down and be vulnerable, a place where I could just be. My bus ride. Mine! With not a single person looking, no one paying too close attention to realize how stressed or nervous or oh so fucking hungry I was.

And then she spoke.

Her voice still felt like an echo on my brain, reverberating through my thoughts long after the conversation had ended. Even after I stepped away, I found myself unable to shake the memory of her words, replaying them in my mind over and over again. Despite my best efforts, the surprise and utter confusion I had felt during our exchange continued to haunt me, leaving me unsure of how to process the emotions swirling within me.

Yet, as the morning dawned, I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief knowing that I hadn't spooked her with my reaction. That small glimmer of hope was enough to keep me going.

“Redhead, uh? Weird.” I had said, how idiotic had that been?

Probably not as idiotic as overreacting about something that didn’t matter.

Even though I couldn't stop thinking about her after I woke up, it was still a dream. It was a dream that was so vivid and detailed that I still remember it well even after waking up in the middle of the night, feeling disoriented, confused, and lonely. I have known my whole life that dreams can be powerful experiences, and they often reveal deep desires and emotions that we may not be aware of when we're awake. So it most likely had to mean something deeper.

She was pretty, her features were exactly as I had always imagined the girl of my dreams to be. Her smooth skin was adorned with an array of freckles that looked as though they were delicately painted on by a skilled artist. I found myself lost in the depths of her big, gray eyes, which seemed to be dilated and staring back at me with an intensity that I couldn't quite understand. Her image haunted me, but in a good way. It's as if her beauty has been etched into my memory forever.

It felt like something beyond my comprehension, almost too close and personal for it to be just a dream. Although I had no prior knowledge of her existence, I wasn't mad that she spoke to me. It was the thought of her being a mere figment of my imagination that made me feel uneasy.

Could she be a manifestation of my unconscious mind trying to convey a message to me? Or maybe an indication of my deepest desires?

Why now?

Why her?

I had still a few hours to try to figure it out.

As I went about my day, my mind kept wandering back to her, even though I tried my best to focus on other things. I couldn't help but think that there was something special about her that drew me in. I replayed our conversation in my head, trying to analyze every word and expression to understand what made her so captivating.

Despite my attempts to shake off these thoughts, they persisted like a nagging voice in the back of my mind. It was as if my subconscious was trying to tell me something, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. It was a sign, it had to be. But a sign for what?

I sat at my desk, staring at my computer screen, unable to focus on the task at hand. My mind kept wandering to the girl with the captivating gray eyes. I wondered if I would ever see her again, and if so, what I should say to her.

As I sat there lost in thought, I started to imagine different scenarios where we might meet again and strike up a conversation. Even if it was just a passing moment, it was one that had left a lasting impression on me, and I couldn't wait to see where it would take me.

I kept forgetting about one tiny detail, again and again.

Something about her felt different. It wasn’t just her beauty, though that was certainly a factor. Rather, it was a sense of familiarity that washed over me like a warm wave. It was as if I had seen her before, but couldn't quite place where or when. Her voice only added to the mystery, it was like a beautiful melody that lingered in my mind long after she had spoken.

It made perfect sense once I forced myself to remember she only lived inside my head, my brain’s representation of something I couldn’t get yet. She was most likely a manifestation of my deepest desires and longings that had taken on a life of its own. Perhaps, in some way, she had always been a part of me, even if I had only just met her for the first time.

Sometimes I found myself immersed in the depths of the internet, searching for stories that seemed too strange to be true. I remember stumbling upon a post on Reddit where a woman claimed to have been abducted by a mysterious entity that followed her wherever she went. Another post had caught my attention, this time from a man who had vivid dreams about a person he had never met, until one day he actually did encounter them.

The possibilities that lay beyond what we perceive as reality always intrigued me.

It was just pure entertainment, but those gray eyes made me wonder if maybe there was something else in between the lines. She was weird, in a good way, special. The kind of thing my brain would come up with.

For the rest of the day, time seemed to slip away from me. Before I knew it, I realized that it was almost time for me to leave. With a sense of urgency, I quickly gathered my things and made my way towards the door, my heart racing with anticipation. I couldn't help but feel a sense of desperation that had been building up inside of me for some time now. You see, I had been trying to convince myself that she wasn't real, but deep down, I knew the truth.

I needed to see her, to prove to myself once and for all that she was more than just a figment of my imagination. So as I stepped out into the bustling city, I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. What if she wasn't there? What if I had been wrong all along?

But I pushed those thoughts aside, determined to find out the truth.

The whole situation felt bizarre, like I was experiencing a sense of deja vu, a feeling of reliving my teenage years all over again. The familiar sensations of nervousness, excitement, and anticipation all wrapped themselves around me in one tight embrace. Despite my attempts to calm myself, my anxiety seemed to crawl through my body like an insect. Even when I closed my eyes, I found it impossible to shut my brain off. These thoughts swirled around in my head, leaving me to question my sanity.

Was I slowly but surely losing my mind, or was this simply a fleeting moment in time that would soon pass?

I felt a pang of regret as I walked back home. “Nice meeting you, redhead” Why did I have to be so awkward?

Nice way to talk to someone that doesn't even exist, Jasper.

After what seemed like an eternity, the bus finally arrived. I remember feeling a sense of relief wash over me as I boarded it. I made my way down the aisle and couldn't help but notice that everyone around me seemed lost in their own thoughts. Their vacant stares made it seem as though they were staring into a void, completely detached from the world around them. Mere NPCs, insignificant entities that were there just to fill up space and make sense of my surroundings.

As I sat on the bus, staring out the window at the passing scenery, I couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness. It was as if a piece of the puzzle was missing. I started to think about her, and it dawned on me that she had added a certain spark to my otherwise mundane routine. Even though I felt content with it, it seemed like my brain was convinced things would be better with her there

She had a certain energy that was hard to ignore, and I found myself thinking about her more and more. Her, and the possibilities of what her presence could mean.

I looked down and realized that I wasn't holding my notebook this time, I didn't have anything to jot down my thoughts and reflections. I felt a sense of loss.

How was I supposed to reminisce about the day without it?

Without my notebook, I wouldn't be able to capture the little details that made the day special, the conversations I had with people, or the thoughts and ideas that came to me throughout the day. I wasn't going to be able to talk to myself and realize which version of me I had been that day held my true self.

It was a strange feeling, not having my trusty companion with me, and I realized that I had become so reliant on it that I felt lost without it, even in my dreams.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” said a voice so angelic it shattered my hopes of her ever being real. “You left this here.”

I turned around and saw her.

She was standing there, in the moving bus, with a smile that could light up a room. Her voice, so sweet and gentle, seemed to echo in my mind. The girl with fiery hair and almost perfect freckles.

The dream-like atmosphere surrounding her was so hazy and surreal that for a brief moment, it made me remember none of that was actually happening, despite my heart desire for her being real. As she approached me, I could feel a sense of warmth radiating from her, enveloping me in a comforting embrace that made me feel safe and secure. It was as if time had stopped, and the only thing that mattered in that moment was her. And me. The only people that existed in that dreamland.