I Lost a Friend
Many years ago I lost the best friend I ever had. Truth be told, we were more than friends. We met in school. He was always very popular, especially with the girls. He smiled at them all, and yet his smile to me seemed genuine as opposed to the fake charade he gave the others.
I loved him with all my heart and soul. We'd walk home together every day. As we approached my house, however, he'd always notice I'd get more unsettled and less composed than usual. He never asked what was wrong, or why I hated going home.
Eventually he asked if I'd like to go back to his place. His parents cooked us dinner and we'd spend time together whether it be just the two of us, or with his mother and father. They always treated me like one of their own. I came to love his family more than I did my own.
I still remember the first night I ate with them. I went home and cried up stairs on my own. Not sad tears though, happy ones.
As things got worse at home, he'd often ask me to stay over at his longer; "don't go, let's watch this movie" or "I want to show you this cool video game."
He always played persona. I hated the fighting, as violence in general is something I hate. But the friendship element seemed genuine and the characters on game were like real people.
He made me feel loved. We never confessed to each other though. I don't know if he did love me back. But I don't ponder that. He didn't have to love me, he just made me feel it.
Things at home got worse, and worse and there he was as my salvation.
That was until he passed away. The night I found out I cried like a little girl again. Harder than I ever had. Worse still, I was never invited to the funeral. I don't even know where he was laid to rest.
I loved him with all my heart and soul. We'd walk home together every day. As we approached my house, however, he'd always notice I'd get more unsettled and less composed than usual. He never asked what was wrong, or why I hated going home.
Eventually he asked if I'd like to go back to his place. His parents cooked us dinner and we'd spend time together whether it be just the two of us, or with his mother and father. They always treated me like one of their own. I came to love his family more than I did my own.
I still remember the first night I ate with them. I went home and cried up stairs on my own. Not sad tears though, happy ones.
As things got worse at home, he'd often ask me to stay over at his longer; "don't go, let's watch this movie" or "I want to show you this cool video game."
He always played persona. I hated the fighting, as violence in general is something I hate. But the friendship element seemed genuine and the characters on game were like real people.
He made me feel loved. We never confessed to each other though. I don't know if he did love me back. But I don't ponder that. He didn't have to love me, he just made me feel it.
Things at home got worse, and worse and there he was as my salvation.
That was until he passed away. The night I found out I cried like a little girl again. Harder than I ever had. Worse still, I was never invited to the funeral. I don't even know where he was laid to rest.
