best friend

I'd known him since we were children. I knew then that he hated physical contact. He couldn't stand being hugged, having his shoulder touched, or even anyone getting too close. He always kept a certain distance from others, as if he needed a barrier between himself and the rest of the world.

With me it was completely different.

As we grew older, he became increasingly clingy. He always found some excuse to be near me: he walked holding my arm, rested his head on my shoulder, sat next to me even when there was plenty of room, and when we were alone, he practically never left my side. If I got up, he would ask where I was going. If I took too long to come back, he would come looking for me.

I never quite understood why he allowed all that with me. Perhaps because he knew me before he learned to distrust people. Perhaps because I was the only person with whom he could truly feel safe.

Over time, his problems with addiction and cigarettes also emerged. When he was nervous or having a bad day, he tended to take refuge in them. And the worse he felt, the more he needed me around.

Sometimes he would simply sit next to me and silently hold onto my arm, as if checking that I was still there was enough to reassure him.

I knew that wouldn't solve his problems. I couldn't make everything disappear or become the only person he depended on.

But I wasn't planning to abandon it either.

I could be there for him, listen to him, and help him find support. And, in the meantime, when he needed to stay by my side, I could.

After so many years, I understood perfectly that his way of saying "don't go" had never been with words.

It was simply getting a little closer.