The moment I met you, I knew you were going to impact my life. There was something about you that was so welcoming.

You were so kind, confident, and inviting. There were elements of you that I strived to have. I knew instantly that I wanted to be friends.

So, we talked once in a while. We would meet up on campus. I don't remember when, but we became friends.

Good friends. The type of friends that would go out to lunch together, that would go shopping together, that would chill at each other's homes.

The type of friends that told each other everything. We told each other everything.

You were the first person outside of my family that I opened up to about my past.

I trusted you. I trusted that you'd be there for me. Even if you couldn't help me, I trusted that you'd at least be there.

But I guess I trusted too much... again.

I came to you for help. You know I hate asking for help. But you couldn't help me, and I told you that was okay.

Then you disappeared.

The summer goes by and it fades into fall. Not a text nor call from you.

You vanished from my life as if you never knew me, and I am confused about why you left.

I wasn't upset. I wasn't disappointed. But you stopped talking to me as if I told you to go away. But why did you go away?

Our friendship ended and I don't know why.

I get these moments of guilt because I asked for help. I feel stupid for asking. I feel stupid for trusting.

Now, I am back to not wanting to ask for help. I am fearful that everyone I ask will hate me and disappear.

The moment I met you, I knew you were going to impact my life, but this was not what I expected.