Island Boy

We met during my second year in college. Just a girl from the North and an island boy from the South with nothing in common but their love for languages and their desire to get the hell out of the place we called home. We lived in the same building and studied the same thing, and somehow managed to never run into each other until a year in. When we met, we just clicked. What started as a one night stand turned into countless nights talking about life, smoking weed and analyzing the rhyme in our favourite rapper’s songs. Those nights quickly turned into afternoons when he would wait for me to finish class and show me the last thing he had drawn or the last song he had discovered. Our chemistry was crazy, but it was never about that. He inspired me so much. I’ve never had such intellectual connection with anybody, it was truly insane. We could talk for hours of things I haven’t talked about ever since.

We had been seeing each other, on and off; for three years, when I finally decided to move away. We both had other relationships, went on exchange and somehow managed to finish our degrees during that time. That summer he called me on my birthday and he sounded different, it felt different. I remember thinking: “Oh fuck, not right now.” I went to see him before I left. He asked me if we should sleep together one last time. I said no. It didn’t make sense, we didn’t make sense. I don’t think I loved him, or maybe I did, it doesn’t matter now. I saw a picture of him recently, he got rid of the dreadlocks. I guess my hair is not red anymore either. Anyways, I live in a different country now. I made it out. I wonder if he did too.