💭 When I Called Her Name (And She Pretended Not to Know Me)
By The Girl Behind The Dreamer’s Pause
Yesterday taught me something.
Not through quotes or lectures.
Just through life—raw, plain, awkward, and loud in its silence.
It started off normal enough. Dentist appointment. 10:30 sharp. I woke up, brushed, got dressed. I changed into a fresh outfit and adjusted the dark purple braces elastic I had on—so dark it looked almost black, but I liked it. It felt confident, grown. Me.
Took the bus. Got there on time. I felt… ready. Responsible. Like I had things handled.
After the appointment, I went for a short walk in the park to kill time. And that’s where a Jehovah’s Witness crossed my path.
You know the ones—everything they say is right. No room for questions, no room for thinking differently. I sat through it, nodded through it. It's wild how someone can speak at you like they already know your story.
But I moved on.
Waited for my bus. Bought a little snack for the ride. Bus came. I got in. Paid. Sat. Life was moving. And then...
I saw her.
A girl I hadn’t seen in years.
Three? Maybe five?
Not a friend exactly—but a classmate. Someone I used to speak to in my old school. We got along. We talked. Shared little laughs in between classes.
I saw her and I lit up.
Because I hadn’t seen her in so long and there’s something electric about those old faces—you know the ones that bring back whole seasons of your life?
So I leaned out the window a bit and called her name.
Once.
Twice.
She looked.
She said hi.
And that was it.
No spark. No warmth. No “oh my gosh, how are you?”
Just a dull, empty hi—like I was a stranger in her peripheral vision.
She looked away.
She didn’t ask how I was.
She didn’t come closer.
She didn’t smile.
She just… moved on.
And I sat there.
Still. Quiet. Processing.
No one around me noticed. Thank God.
But inside? I felt something sink.
> Why did I even bother?
Why did I get excited?
Why did I expect more?
I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t even crying.
But something inside me curled up—like a part of me realized just how much I care about people who no longer even see me.
I tilted my head to the side of the bus. Not on the window, just near it.
Looking outside, but thinking inward.
And suddenly it wasn’t just about her anymore.
I started thinking about everyone I’ve ever missed.
All the people I remember with warmth.
People I wonder about. People I still carry in my thoughts.
And this voice in my head asked:
> “Do they miss me the way I miss them?”
“Do they think of me too?”
“Do they imagine bumping into me? Reconnecting?”
“Or am I just… forgotten?”
That hurt more than anything.
The realization that maybe I’m the only one still replaying old moments.
The only one who gets nostalgic at the thought of old friends.
The only one wondering, “What would happen if we met again?”
So right there, on that bus,
I made a decision—quietly.
> If someone leaves my life—friend, acquaintance, classmate—
Then maybe I should stop holding the door open for them.
Stop imagining a reunion.
Stop giving energy to ghosts.
Stop handing my excitement to people who’ve already let go.
And instead...
Make space for new people.
Better people.
People who remember me without needing a reminder.
People who want to catch up, not just look up and walk away.
💬 The Pause
I didn’t cry.
I didn’t let it ruin my day.
But I let it teach me.
And that’s what this space is for.
So if you’ve ever called someone’s name and they acted like you didn’t exist…
If you’ve ever replayed conversations that no one else remembers…
If you’ve ever been excited for someone who made you feel invisible—
You’re not alone.
You’re not stupid.
You’re not “too sensitive.”
You’re just human.
Soft-hearted.
Real.
And here, in The Dreamer’s Pause, we feel things.
We don’t pretend we’re made of stone.
We just learn.
And next time, we glow differently.
Until next time—stay soft, stay real, and don’t ever let one cold “hi” make you dim your light.
💜
—The Girl Behind The Dreamer’s Pause
© 2025 The Dreamer’s Pause. All rights reserved.
