He still gives me butterflies ...
He was a decent friend of mine in high school, but we were never Bee Eff Eff or anything like that. We were outcasts, the both of us; our mutual friends were the bizarre artsy types. He was massively depressed and completely unstable. We only hung out a few times outside of school, but he was one of the most creative, interesting people I knew. Hanging out was never boring, he always had some philosophical thought process preying on him. He was a grade higher than me, and had dyed long hair, and then a mohawk that added a foot to his six feet four inches. He liked me, but I wasn't mature enough to even think about dating. I liked him, but he was dating one of my friends.
Years passed. A few friends of mine and him were hanging out, and one of my best friends developed something of a crush on him. He showed little to no interest, but I backed off almost completely.
We stayed in contact, our writing kept us somewhat connected and of course facebook helped. I saw him serial date, jumping from one fairly serious relationship to the next, from one engagement to the next. He was either enamored or depressed, the middle ground didn't really exist.
More years passed. I moved back to New Jersey, and looked him up because I remembered him as a load of fun. An art museum and a children's planetarium. He is currently stable, single, and happy with his life. He's playing in two different bands and working close to full time hours in retail. His thought processes that I loved so much haven't changed a bit, only now there's a positive spin to the world where before it was only horror. The carved "dysphoria" tattoo from his cutting years is being mirrored by "euphoria" on the other ankle.
Ye Gods, he still gives me butterflies, but he'd be so bad for me.
Sanity-shockartist
edit: I want him to be maybe better for me now that he was, but I'm not sure I believe the transformation quite yet and I don't want to end up hurting him either if he's still a serial long-term dater.
Years passed. A few friends of mine and him were hanging out, and one of my best friends developed something of a crush on him. He showed little to no interest, but I backed off almost completely.
We stayed in contact, our writing kept us somewhat connected and of course facebook helped. I saw him serial date, jumping from one fairly serious relationship to the next, from one engagement to the next. He was either enamored or depressed, the middle ground didn't really exist.
More years passed. I moved back to New Jersey, and looked him up because I remembered him as a load of fun. An art museum and a children's planetarium. He is currently stable, single, and happy with his life. He's playing in two different bands and working close to full time hours in retail. His thought processes that I loved so much haven't changed a bit, only now there's a positive spin to the world where before it was only horror. The carved "dysphoria" tattoo from his cutting years is being mirrored by "euphoria" on the other ankle.
Ye Gods, he still gives me butterflies, but he'd be so bad for me.
Sanity-shockartist
edit: I want him to be maybe better for me now that he was, but I'm not sure I believe the transformation quite yet and I don't want to end up hurting him either if he's still a serial long-term dater.