I remember the way it felt to be hunted, like a flicker in the dark that always caught their eye.

I was never meant to belong - too curious, too restless. I was the outlier, the one who never quite fit. There was always a distance, something that set me apart, as if I was untouchable even when they tried to draw near.

But it was my curiosity that betrayed me. I’d wander too close, just enough for them to catch a glimpse of something they could never fully understand. I wasn’t meant for their world, yet something in me couldn’t resist. I was always seeking, always searching for the deeper meaning behind their empty stares, wanting to unravel them before they unraveled me.

I think that’s what made them chase. The way I slipped through their fingers, always a step ahead but never fully gone. They’d try to reach me, to pull me in, but I was always just out of reach. And it thrilled me, knowing that no matter how close they got, I’d always stay just far enough away.

It’s strange, though. I never quite felt like I belonged, even when I was caught in their gaze. I knew I wasn’t like them, too curious for comfort, too lost in my own world to ever truly fit into theirs. And maybe that’s why they hunted me. Not because they wanted to claim me, but because they could sense that I was already gone, lost in the spaces they’d never find.

I was always meant to be the prey they could never catch, the one they’d remember but never possess. And that’s the way I liked it - untouchable, but always close enough to make them believe they could.