Profiled.
It’s strange that even now, after all that has happened, after all these months, whenever I look at his old facebook profile picture, the one that he hasn’t changed once since I’ve known him, and I see his bemused face looking back at me, he feels like a stranger. I get nervous when I look at him, anxious, all a-jitter. As if we were still stuck in that long, long period of flirtation and hope and uncertainty. As if I should be ashamed to be on his page, staring at his photo. He feels like the boy I fell so deeply in like with, whom I didn’t yet know would one day become my first everything, and the one I fell in love with.
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