There was a time when I loved you. You were the different girl, the one everyone whispered about but no-one understood. You dressed the way you wanted and didn't care what anybody thought. Always with one earphone in, music was your life. I'd see you tapping your foot to the rhythm of a song nobody else could hear. Your own private world. People stared. I stared. I was intrigued and you liked the attention but ignored it.

For two years, you ignored me too. I tried to strike up a conversation but you'd walk away like you'd never heard me. I knew you had. Something in your eyes, it changed when I spoke. I got through to you like no-one else did. I like to think so anyway.

Slowly, slowly, you let your guard down. You'd stay a few seconds, listen to what I had to say before you walked away. You turned your music down when I came close, though I'm sure you thought I didn't see that. I did. Before long, you wouldn't walk away at all. You'd stay there, sat on the wall with your feet dangling inches above the ground. Once I tried to sit next to you but that was too much. You left.

I was persistent. Days went by, then weeks. Then, when I sat next to you, you didn't go. I was cracking your shell and it felt so good. We kept up the charade for weeks, each day trying the same and then a step forward. The same for a while, then a step forward. One day, you took your earphone out. I nearly cried. I spoke and you listened, never saying a word. I'd never heard your voice but I knew it would be worth the wait.

You knew a lot about me but with what I knew of you, all I could do was pick you out of a police line-up. It was one-sided but I kept pushing forward, trying to get you to play the balancing game. I was stuck at the top of the seesaw and no matter what I tried, you weren't going to let me come down.

I finally got you to talk to me. Four months and ten days after I first tried to talk to you. Soft and sultry, you said thank you. I asked what for. You didn't say. But you smiled.

We dated for a while. I'm not sure you were ever really happy but you talked to me. You held my hand once, when you were scared. I kissed you once, when I was scared. I remember every little moment of knowing you, every piece of you. You made me work for it. And I loved it.

I read your obituary in the paper today. I didn't cry. I hadn't seen you for a long time but I hadn't forgotten anything either. My relief was shameful; I felt guilty but I knew it was right. You didn't fit in this world. You were never comfortable, never quite happy with where you were. You needed to be somewhere else: somewhere higher, somewhere better. I'm not sure I ever quite understood you. But now I understand what you wanted. And I'm glad you got it.

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