Jenny

Whenever I'm in the midst of writing a new script, I often try to dig into my own memories.

Either they are events from my past,
or people I've met,
or something I've read.

It becomes some heightened state of awareness, where I begin remembering things I thought I remember. At the same time too, I wonder whether what I remember had really happened or were they just product of my imagination manifested because of my loneliness.

There's always my memory of a person whose existence I gradually starting to question, as no one else seem to remember her at all.

No sign of her on Facebook (her name was too common).

No memory of her voice as we had never spoken to one another.
(I
was
shy
...?)

My last memory of her was my last day as the president of the English Language Club in high school. I was Form 5 and stepping down, my (handpicked) successor was someone from Form 6. (my choice was either a Form 4 junior whose work ethics I questioned, or a Form 6 outsider, I chose the latter)

I gave a farewell speech. To my surprise, she was in the room too. She wasn't a member of the club, but maybe she was there because she was a friend of my successor? (she was also a Form 6 student) Perhaps she was there to see her classmate take over the club?

I was almost half the age that I am now, and as I (probably) fumbled through the speech, the only feeling I felt then was how surreal the entire situation was. I cannot remember what I've said, yet I remember her seated on the second last row of the classroom. She wasn't paying attention to the speech, which was okay, I wasn't paying attention to it either.

Did I imagine her existence?
Could it be possible that the sheer crushing loneliness that I felt during the last few months of secondary school had prompted me to conjure an imaginary person in my mind?

If she is real, I doubt I will ever see her again.
(Not the luminous eyes nor the (dark brown?) hair tied up in a ponytail,
nor the constant pink flush no her cheeks.)

If she is real, I hope she is happy now.

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