I know it may not seem like it, but Martin and I used to be the best friends in the whole goddamn world. We grew up in the same shitty town, far from the big city. There were not a lot of children our age, so we had to stick together if we wanted friends.

Then I realised I had to leave town; I wasn’t belonging there.. I knew I was different, but as a child I never realised how bad it was. My “people” reject any differences, and so I left for university, in another country, as far as possible of my birthplace. My parents didn’t question much, but I have a feeling they knew why I was leaving by that look on their face. Of course, Martin followed me all the way to Canada. I never told him why we had to move so far from home, and he always thought it was because I hated living in a small place. And it’s partly true: I felt trapped in this shitty hole they call a town and I needed to escape before the truth came out. How could I have told my best friend the real reason why I had to leave? That every time he touched me, my whole damned world collapsed?

We got to be roomies, so even though we were in different programs, we still saw each other every day. We even joined the reading club, mostly because I am a book nerd, together as excited freshmen.

Then came the moment when he dropped a bomb in our relationship: I wasn’t cool enough, I was stopping him from making other friends. He said we spent our whole life together, that he needed space to make out a life of his own. That night, he changed his room without even telling me, and we were never seen together again. Damn, it wasn’t a pretty fight at all…