We were childhood friends. After school he’d give me a call, and after exchanging a handful of words I’d be on my way over. We’d talk philosophy at 12, asking each other if we had regrets, how the world began, what was morality anyway? That thirst for knowledge and our unabashed honesty about how we felt is what kept us close even in spite of our polar personalities. But that was youth.
Drugs came for him, both use and distribution. College came and passed him; he had no real interest in attending. I went. Our worlds because drastically different.
Years later, he shows up the door, the same way as high school. We spend the day together, hanging out, and eventually getting into a serious talk. But when he asks me about my life, how I feel, that unabashed honesty is gone. The shield is up, and when I ask about his life, he dances around the subject. We can’t talk, not the way we want to, not the way that made us friends.