The Silence

I didn’t think of you all that much until we happened to end up in gym together during high school. By that point, you had gone silent – for whatever reason, you refused to ever speak. It’s one of those odd mysteries, the type of thing that makes people strangely compelled. Of course, I knew the answer – you had a disarmingly high-pitched voice for a boy.

I didn’t think much of it then, your embarrassment. In fact, I found it kind of amusing. How oppressive masculinity is, that you literally went quiet to hide an apparently feminine flaw. More than likely, you were terrified people would hear you speak and assume you were gay.

I briefly reached out to you – we met at a Mexican restaurant along with our mothers and caught up. I questioned why we stopped hanging out, it seemed clear it was the silence. I had read into it, but you had gotten that way with everyone in your life. There had to be more, for you to never reach out – but I didn’t really care.

I had found other friends, ones who spoke to me in ways more than just literal. We could have started to hang out again – but that dinner, that was all I needed. I got the best answer I would get, I could move on from you. Every future encounter would be from a distance, morbid curiosity as I checked out your social media. Our friendship officially ended with what was supposed to be a reunion.

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