On Sight-Vectors and Monthly Bookworms

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Stars.
You know, those teeny-tiny bits of flashing speckles in the dark blue sky that appear every evening. People gaze and imagine those as immortalized beings, objects, and the like. Some people believe that those predict and hold their life’s destiny and fate. But for me, stars are intersection points, or even meeting points, located far away above, as if one can travel to those purely by sight, and by sight alone of twinkling white dots.
Call me a nerd, I don’t care. It was a peaceful night with clear skies when one person told me to imagine my own sight as a vector—yes, the Physics-related thing, and told me to gaze upon Sirius, the brightest star in the night sky. She then explained that my own sight-vector allegedly collides with the light-vector of Sirius that reached Earth. She then continued that the light-vector I saw started out very, very, big, and traveled millions and millions and millions of kilometers away just to reach Earth. Throughout its journey, it tried its best not to collide with anything else, and even though victorious, people only see it as a small dot in the night sky, and people usually don’t appreciate it.
I don’t usually fall for girls—usually my happy crushes belong to the so-called elite group of our batch, those who looked themselves superior to everyone else outside their circle of friends—but Ivy was an exception. She has a fair complexion, naturally smooth hair, a fairly cute voice, and she was as tall as me; typical elitist, but she worked well with both students in and out of their circle. And she was very beautiful.
I first knew her after she became “Bookworm of the Month” in our library—a position I’ve been holding since I enrolled in our high school. To confirm things out and to know ...

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...old her I can do it.
And I did. I never missed. Christmas, New Year, her birthday, our graduation. Never missed, never regretted.
I miss her. Now that I’m in college I find it hard to find somebody I can truly jive with and with whom I could share my little jokes without finding it to be corny or some sort. And because she’s nowhere to be found now (she doesn’t seem to use her online accounts anymore; she also didn’t reply to my mails), it sucks that I never had and never will have the chance to truly tell her what I felt before. I might not have the chance to meet her personally again.
But I’m still hoping, every 6 p.m. sitting at our Sunken Garden and gazing upon Sirius for an hour, that she’d do the same thing, and even though it’d take a thousand lifetimes, our sight-vectors will meet again.
Probably not in this country, not even on Earth, but surely in a star.

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