Today, I suddenly remembered this guy I once went to school with. We were 17, going on 18 (well, he was, I was 17 going on 35), and I thought I was in love with him. Sort of in love at least. I liked the notion of liking someone. And he was sweet and cute, so how could I not be in love with him. Nothing ever happened though...
Years later, I ran into him at a new year's eve party, and as alcohol and years of forgetfullness often do, tounges loosened up and secrets got shared and laughed of. So I told him. And he told me that he had been in love with me at the same time. Two hours and a bottle of red wine later, we still hadn't figured out why nothing ever had happened, and more importantly, who was to blame. But we were happy. We laughed a lot. We shaked our head of how young we had been, and how naive. And still nothing happened.
But, on the bus today, I suddenly got overwhelmed with this feeling of loss. And of sadness. And while watching the buildings move past, and all the people on the streets, I realised I was annoyed for having missed my time with him. Missed out on sharing a time with him. A time when we were still young enough so nothing mattered much, but old enough to care.
I don't know why I came to think of him. I haven't thought about him for years. I haven't seen him for years. I wonder where he is, what he is doing. I normally don't, but today I do.