Him.

It wasn’t about how he looked or who he was, but how he made me feel. How I felt secure around him. Protected. Safe. Happy. His presence made the difference. His hands, soft. His touch, smooth. Constantly crossing the line between safe and sensual. Underneath his glasses lay eyes so honest I felt like he could see right through me. And his smile? Oh, his smile was sincere. Not the ones forced for a picture. It was genuine, from the heart.

I felt a connection with him. Not instantly though, this is not a movie. But it was there. And it grew over time. He became a lifestyle. I lived him. Yes, lived. My daily dose. He gradually became an addiction. Something I couldn’t live without. And those, those are dangerous.

We were friends. Nothing special. He was just a normal guy, like all the others I knew before him. Why do I write about him though? Because he was (I want to say different but that’s so cliché, he wasn’t different) unique. For lack of a better word. And I liked him because, well he was him.

It was mutual. The vibe, I mean. His energy matched mine. Our conversations were never ending. We would talk about the most random things and still, it was interesting. He was interesting. He was guarded though. Some things he would never speak about. His past for instance. Dodging specific topics was his superpower. And mine was pestering him about it. He never gave in. To date.

I love to walk. Strolls are refreshing, don’t you think? We had those from time to time. We’d sit and talk for hours. Sometimes with other friends. Sometimes alone. All of which I enjoyed immensely. He was always fun to hang around.

We parted ways eventually. Not because we wanted to, but because of the circumstances. We were both starting school. Campus, if I may. He left first as I followed a month after. Now we had very little in common. Different schools, different courses, different residencies to live. Our residencies were an hour away, a walking distance. Ironically, we never walked that distance. And that is when life really began.

Transitioning from one stage to another can be rather challenging. I bet we can all agree on that. I, for one, am a person who doesn’t like change. At all. Yes, change can be good and what not, but I like the idea of familiarity. People, places and even things that I’m used to are easier to deal with. Regardless, change is inevitable, and we must move with it.

My issue was not transitioning into campus. It was him. Realizing that he would no longer be there all the time hit me hard. Very hard. This marked the end of an era of long phone calls in the morning and hang outs soon after the calls. No more texting for a living and strolling across town. This was the end. No more of us, no more of him.

Okay I might be overreacting here, but can you blame me? Well yes, the friendship stood. We still talked on the phone, texts and accidental phone calls. It just wasn’t as frequent as before. We no longer hang out. No long walks no nothing. Everything had changed. I guess we’d become too busy, occupied with our lives or something. Whatever it was, it just wasn’t the same anymore.

I felt it. The strain in our conversations. The loud awkward silence. The growing distance between us. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t expect us to have a forever or a happily ever after like in fairy tales. We weren’t a thing anyway. I just thought we’d last a little longer, you know.

See how you meet someone, get a vibe going and keep thinking about where the hell they’ve been all your life? That was him for me. He’d become a part of me I never knew I needed. It was as if he was made for me. Like he was the last piece of my puzzle. I don’t know about him, but boy was I tripping!

Corniness aside, I think of myself as an incredibly sensitive human being. Not emotional, just sensitive. Big difference. Or at least I think so. Therefore, (I think law school is rubbing off on me now lol) drifting apart from him hurt like shit. I felt betrayed. More than anything, I was disappointed that he’d effortlessly let go of our friendship. Just like that.

Actually, it isn’t just about him. I love my friends, a lot. I may not show it (I am African, born and raised, so showing love isn’t really in my resume) but I do. I value all my relationships, even the talking-stage ones if you know what I mean. So, for him to throw all that away, I was hurt.

Now I know what you’re thinking by now. That I should just cut to the chase and tell you the Cinderella story of how we fell in love. But that’s not the point. So sit tight, this is just the beginning.