Tears Of A Dying Sunflower

Unnoticed

"Have you ever felt put aside?" She said, reading one of my notebooks filled with the poems I wrote for someone I liked.

I put my pen down and asked, "What do you mean?"

"You're a writer aren't you? You should know what I mean." She said again, avoiding eye contact with me, her sleek fingers flipping through the pages of my notebook.

"The feeling of being an extra, of being only noticed when they have no one else to go to. When people only go to you when they have something they need." She continued, closing the notebook this time and grabbing another one. This time, it was the notebook with sweet stories that I wrote especially for the girl of my heart while still not looking over to my direction.

I finally realized what she meant, I stared at the countless notebooks scattered on my table written only for one girl– the girl that I loved. I compiled them back together and I replied,

"I have once been rejected. I had nothing to be proud of myself but a pair of glasses and the messy hair stuck above my head. But when I started to write, people started noticing me. They started showing attention for me, though the reason why I started is because of her. I wanted to gain attention from her. And somehow, I did, even more than what I expected." Holding the current notebook I have been writing in at the moment.

"And somehow that's because of your help." I continued, then stared at her, she was still avoiding my gaze.

"I guess I'm happy for you." She answered, still reading my works.

"But since she accepted your confession, using the one hundred poems you wrote. All you ever thought of was her." She continued, closing the current notebook and grabbed another one.

"Remember the time you wrote this one?" She held the notebook high to make me see what she was referring to. It was the notebook filled with tragedy.

"It was the time when I got broken, the time she refused me. The time when she still hadn't seen what I wanted her to see." I replied, a little sad as I remembered the day she first said the words.

"But she's taken back her words, and now she loves you, doesn't she?" She gave a quick response.

"Well, now she does, and I'm happy enough." I uttered as I gave her teasing smile.

"She's been the subject of every piece you have written. Your thoughts all revolve around her. You became so focused on her that all your attention fell on her. But you  forgot about the people around you." She replied,

I was dumbfounded at her answer. I was now puzzled. I couldn't understand what her words meant. I didn't know how I should respond. She continued,

"She never did anything for you. All she ever did was admire your works. Maybe she never even read them. But you're just blind to see through everything." She stood up, and this time she stared at me. Her dark eyes showed me the emotions I never noticed she had.

I stared at her, dumbfounded by unexplained thoughts. I was starting to complete the picture she wanted me to see. She always stayed for me, and I never even cared.

"I'm tired of being unnoticed. Maybe I'm just being stupid or you're just being blind, but I want you to know what I feel." She started to walk away, as her hands held the doorknob, she uttered a few final words that changed me, that made me realize how stupid I actually was.

"I hope her feelings for you are real, like how my feelings are."