Et venskab der ændrede sig

I don’t see you a lot anymore. Well, I see you, but I don’t really see you. You´re always wearing those sunglasses that makes you look like everyone else. We don’t talk a lot anymore, just a few words exchanged In the hallways, or at the parking lot. Friendly formalities, trying to be polite. That’s how you talk to all of us, like you´re some fucking car salesman, that has to be good to everyone, so that we´ll buy the car. But I don´t. I won’t buy it.

You also wear your sleeves rolled up now. Not that It looks bad, don´t get me wrong. It´s just something I’ve noticed.

There are pictures of you, hung up all over the hallways. Student-council-president-whatever. It makes me so sad seeing your face up there. Your smile is not your real smile. Your real smile is a bit wider, to the point where you can slightly see the chipped off bit of your tooth, from when we were nine, riding bikes with no helmets on.

And I’m the only one who can tell.

I’m not completely sure of what made us grow apart, although I know that it was the winter of our freshman year. That was when you started hanging around the preppy kids. The ones that also rolls up their sleeves, and competes for student council president. That winter, everyone grew apart. That winter everyone left me, but that winter, I didn´t think you´d be one of them. I was the only one who didn’t change, yet I was the one abandoned.