When I was 13, a new guy came in my class; black hair, black eyes, tanned skin, and a killer cocky attitude. He and I became good friends; We had the same taste in music…And he tried his best to get me to love his favorite bands. He loved my music choice…And my attitude. We fit each other perfectly.
Since the time I was 13, I have been in love with him. I loved everything about him, his hair, his attitude, just everything. He used to tell me we were close friends…I thought maybe he understands that we were meant to be together. He seemed to love talking to me on the phone and was really sweet when he had to be.
He also had a girlfriend…A girlfriend he didn’t talk much about. Though it seemed she was completely obsessed with him, he never reciprocated it with the same magnitude. He used to tell me it was nothing and continued asking me how my day went.
Apart from our classroom chats, I hardly ever talked to him. He was always playing soccer, or otherwise surrounded by his girlfriend and her group…And they seemed to not like me much. At 17, our last day in school, I thought a memoir was necessary…after all I was in love. I tried to get a picture clicked with him but he was busy, busy with his group. He didn’t talk to me that day. I called him once school ended, to know how he had been. He told me he was leaving the city, that he’s not coming back anytime soon.
I wished him luck and cried at home. The next thing I know, he changed his number. None of our friends are in contact with him.
He used to tell me we were close friends…And he showed me how close we actually were.
Haven’t seen him since.