*this will probably be difficult to get if you haven't read the previous parts*

I haven't seen you in weeks. You haven't showed up to school in ages. In the time you were gone I figured out your name and your ethnicity. I feel some strange form of loss, even though you're a complete stranger. It baffles me. I try to subtly mention you, in order to find out why you're not around, and if you'll be back. I overheard you speaking to one of your teachers before you disappeared. I was putting my books back in my locker, and I was ready to leave until I heard your voice and recognized it. Throwing back a glance and assuring myself that it was in fact you, I fiddled around some more with my books and heard you say how you were having difficulties with the course and you didn't understand the system, the way things were done.

"Yes, the system is different from where you were before..." your teachers voice was tinged with questioning and you said confidently "Egypt".

"Ah yes Egypt. Well if you look at the education in Egypt, and the one we have here, which is better?"

Having turned around I saw your brows furrow and your lips purse, as if unsure whether or not to answer. Surely enough he answered on his own.

"Here of course!" seeing your face he continued "No, no really, you know it."

I choked on the water I had been drinking.

Having drawn too much attention to myself, I promptly escaped and that was the second to last time I saw you. I'm not sure how many weeks it has been, it feels like six but it could be three. I hope you didn't leave the course because of teachers who can't do their jobs. Had I ever spoken to you I could've told you the second year is completely different, that you shouldn't try too hard to get used to the way things are done in the first one. Had I actually talked to you, I could've helped you out.

I think you noticed me. We made too much eye contact for you to not notice me. I hope you noticed me

I thought I was different—better, even—than before.

But he says I'm not.

So I guess I'm not.

I just thought I was.

And if I'm not, if I truly haven't progressed, I guess I'm more delusional than I thought.

My mom sends me letters and cards each day to remind me that I'm worthy, that I'm good, that I'm loved.

I thought I was.

But he says I'm not.

So I guess I'm not.

I'm not.

I say mean things to him, like

Go fuck yourself

when I feel ignored,

Hope your boss' pussy is sweeter than mine

when he goes out for drinks with coworkers instead of having dinner with me,

Thanks for calling to check in on me! You're so considerate!

when I don't hear from him while I'm laying in bed sick.

I do these things to hurt him

when I'm hurting

and I don't understand why.

I thought I didn't understand, but it's because I'm a monster.

Because he told me that.

And I've thought that.

Then convinced myself that it wasn't true.

But then he reminded me of that.

So I think that now.

I guess I'm a monster.

Why else would I act like one?

He says I deny accountability for my actions.

But I thought I was pretty good at admitting fault.

I thought I was.

But he said I'm not.

So I guess I'm not.

I'm not.

I thought he could love me like I loved him.

I thought he could.

He said he did.

So he did.

I just fucked that up.

He said he's sick of me crying wolf,

playing the victim.

I didn't think I was.

But he said I was, said he was sick of it.

So I am.

So am I.

I thought I wasn't always like this.

He didn't say I wasn't.

So I guess I have been.

I think I've always been.

He thinks I'm poisonous.

I think I am too.

I think that I think I am,

I do.

After all, he said it

so it's true.

Why do I keep seeing you everywhere? All you are is another person. Another person with another face. I like your face.

I don't know your name. And I don't know who you are. I know nothing about you. I don't know what accent you have or what your voice even sounds like. But I know your face. I've seen all its expressions. I know it's habits, I know your smile, I know your frown. And I like it.

I see you in the halls of my school. I see you so often. I feel like its weird I'm always noticing you, a perfect stranger, with an imperfectly perfect face. In the halls at school I always bump into you. I always see you. My friends talk to me and I see you in the distance and their voices fade away. Do you notice me noticing you? Do you notice me as much as I do you?

I saw you smoking yesterday. I've seen you smoke a couple of times. Just before you head to lunch. You're always smoking with that guy, I heard his name somewhere. But I don't remember it. I wonder if he's your brother or your boyfriend. You shouldn't smoke. It's not good for you. Not good for your face.