My teacher sits at her desk as I stay at mine after the bell signalling the end of the day, unable to move. The other students flood out as fast as they can, eager to get away. I just sit. Stuck.

“Ciel?” my teacher tries to get my attention. But I can’t reply.

She gives up, after a while, going back to her papers. I start to whisper to myself, forgetting that she is there. Forgetting that she can hear.

“Once upon a time, there was a little baby girl. She grew up, as all small children do, and she learnt everything she hadn’t yet known. For example, the Earth is dying. She took it upon herself to save it. Wars are everywhere. She was too scared to try and solve that one. People can be mean. She built a wall. People were uneducated. She read so that she, herself could be educated and wrote so that she could inform others. Fear is real. She embraced it. Shyness is too. That was difficult. She isolated herself in public, letting herself be herself only when in private with close friends or family. Her mind spun at a thousand miles a second, which she mostly kept to herself. And the child discovered means of expression through bold colours, clothes, face paint, makeup, adventure. She reached up to the stars, unhooking a few to conceal inside her, taking cover in their brightness.

Soon, the child was a teenager. This teenager refused to forget childhood. Many adults and teenagers do, you know. They say they remember, but they only remember the teenage years, nothing earlier. Or, nothing of great importance. Like how children embody the innocence of the world, knowing nothing yet knowing everything. And reader, here is a question for you: Have you forgotten how to play? To pretend, play imaginary games, speak with those friends and teddies? They’ve lost their magic, haven’t they?

The thing is, it was never them who lost the magic. You just stopped believing.

This child did not.

Through the upheavals and unwanted changes brought drastically into their life, it was this belief that sustained them.

Learning more every day, increasing what was uncovered in terms of many things; then one thing in particular was noted: identity. Quickly realising that such a thing is fluid and cannot be contained in a box, they gradually let their friends and family know what they had found. Sadly, with every happiness comes some misfortune, so some secrets were kept and lies were told to ensure safety.

The teenager had indeed not forgotten. They tried to show this through the expression learnt earlier. It worked, for a while.

But the words were sharp and the closed minds speaking them would not listen. At last, they became more subdued. Quiet. Of course, this was never shown to the friends, only the enemies. Somehow, they managed to push parts of themselves away as they shone a light on hidden parts. They looked closer at their mind, spinning at a thousand miles a second. Astonished at what dreadful and exciting things they found, they gathered up this new information and spoke not a word. A few parts were mentioned, here and there. All in all, this teenager was secretive, only properly true to themselves when alone.

The workings of the mind can be alarming. The frightening sections, though locked up, can escape. And in their head, dark swirling mists thickened into a fog that had covered almost their entire brain.

The little girl had learned about fear; that is true. However, she didn’t learn how to control it. Embracing it was a mistake. The fear enveloped them in a veil of darkness, taking over their mind.

It became apparent, with the dark circles under eyes and confusion from lack of sleep, that they were having some difficulties. Only apparent to the keen observer, they hid behind a mask of their old happiness and tucked away the challenging realities, yet to be overcome. Failing to sleep at night, they succumbed to resonating quotes and an old friend turned new who understood.

Occasionally, they cried. Most of the time, it was impossible. They were just… There. Existing. Meaninglessly? Who knows. A vast expanse of nothingness gnawed at their chest, pulling it apart, creating a hole. Perhaps love could have filled it, but none was to be found.

Then there was the shouting. The screams, the cries. Stowed away in their room, they listened. Was it time to give up? Were they still alive? It didn’t appear so. They felt like a ghost, floating. Unseen. Their soul had flickered and was trying to leave ahead of schedule.

The days dragged by. Illness did not help. But they pushed and pushed, forcing themselves to carry on, even when it seemed they’d collapse. Even when they did.

So, what to become of them? I am not sure. Well, they now know about the world; not fully, but enough for the moment. And they’ve come to the conclusion that it is a terrible place with secrets. Such secrets could be damaging if released too early, so the planet crumbles underneath the pressure. Like them. That much, at least, is understood.

Yet one question remains-

Where have your stars gone?”

I finally look up from my desk. My teacher still sits at hers, the same as before. Whereas now, her cheeks are stained with tears. I gasp and run out, terrified. Then I stop. I turn around. My teacher is behind me, leaning against the doorframe of her class.

“I’m here for you, if you need me,” she smiles, “I promise not to tell.”

I smile nervously at her, mumbling a thank you and quietly leaving.

The next day, a note is under my desk. I almost cry in relief when I read it.

“Did you know I can see ghosts? I’m one too.”