Too Little Too Late

Prologue

I had never expected to meet him. Life has a funny way of showing you what you need, but not always what you want. He was different. Not different in the sense of not normal. Not different in the way your parents tell you that you are cool. He was different in an unspoken way. The way he talked, the way he carried himself. It was all so, well, different. He never tried to be someone else. He was so unapologetically him that when you meet him, you either love or hate him. I was the latter. I couldn't stand how confident he was. How could he be so sure of himself and so humble at the same time?

He walked as if he had a place to be. He had nowhere to go. He talked as if everyone was listening. They were. His eyes were not only the window to his soul, but they showed you yours as well. He never talked over you. He allowed you to state your opinions and tried to see things from your point of view. He never forced you to do anything, he suggested. He was as close to perfect as one could possibly be, and I hated it. His smile, his laughs, his persistence. All of it made me angry.

I'm closed off to people. If you don't let them in they can't hurt you. They can't make you cry if you don't care enough to do so. Or so I thought. They say the ones you never have are the ones who hurt you the most. He was the one who I gave everything and nothing. He was both the ups and downs of my life. He gave me life and in turn took a part of mine with him. I wish I could say this ends well for you, reader. But sometimes the truth is better than hearing what you want to.