Buddy

My name is Xavier Percival Hartman, though I doubt many know me by that anymore. Most just call me Buddy. It's not because I dislike the name Xavier; in fact, I think it's quite regal. But it’s the name my father chose for me, and that's a part of my life I'd rather not dwell on. So, I go by Buddy now—a name I chose for myself, a name that reflects who I am and how I navigate the world.

I'm a Tervuren shepherd, a breed known for its loyalty and intelligence, though I often wonder if I embody those traits. My fur is a blend of neutral browns and tans, a palette as muted as my demeanor. My eyes, which shift between shades of pink and yellow, tell more stories than my voice ever could—because, well, I don't speak much. It's not that I can't; I just find it easier to remain silent. You see, I struggle with anxiety and depression, possibly even bipolar disorder. The chaos in my mind often makes speaking feel like an insurmountable task.

I keep to myself mostly, dressed in grunge-style clothing that I find both comforting and expressive. I wear dog tags, bracelets, rings, and chains—adornments that feel like armor, shielding me from the world. Sometimes I sport a septum piercing and even a belly piercing, though I rarely show it off. My right ear is tagged, a silent marker of some past moment I don't discuss. Big over-ear headphones and beanies are my constant companions, drowning out the noise of the world while keeping me cocooned in my own.

In my small backpack, I carry essentials: deodorant, lotion, tissues, hand sanitizer—things that help me maintain a semblance of normalcy. My glasses are tucked away most of the time; I only wear them when I need to, which isn't often. When I'm alone, truly alone, I shed the grunge for oversized hoodies and binge-watch cartoons, my little escape into a world of simplicity and color.

I've come to believe that being alone is a necessity, not a choice. People drift in and out of our lives, like leaves in the wind, each one leaving a mark before moving on. They have their own lives, their own stories, and it's foolish to think that anyone will ever stay. I've stopped searching for love, not because I don't believe in it, but because I know you can't truly love someone else until you love yourself. And self-love? That's a journey I'm still on.

That's why I call myself Buddy. It's a reminder that I don't need anyone else to be my friend. I've learned to be my own companion, my own source of comfort. The name is both a shield and a declaration: I am my own friend, and I don't need anyone else. The middle name, Leaf, symbolizes how everyone I care about eventually leaves, just like the autumn leaves falling from the trees. And Reed? Well, I chose it simply because it sounds cool.

It's not an easy life, but it's mine. I've learned to find solace in my music, in the quiet moments when I'm alone and the world fades away. I share my songs publicly, but they're more for me than anyone else—a way to express the things I can't say out loud.

So, this is me, Xavier Percival Hartman, but you can call me Buddy. I'm not perfect, and my life isn't easy, but I'm learning to be okay with that. I'm learning that it's okay to be your own best friend, your own Buddy. Because in the end, who else can truly understand your struggles and triumphs better than you?