You were just a boy who sat next to me on the early morning bus when I went to the third grade and you to the fourth grade. 

You were the boy I thought to be so great, chatting with you once friend on the other side while I listened in. 

You let me believe something that wasn't true, something because I was blinded by you and your forgettable words. 

You, a year older than me, asked to use my phone.

The phone I only had because back then I couldn't do multiplication well. 

You went onto my old meaningless instagram and looked up things I didn't think you would.

Then you drifted away after that. 

Then I opened my eyes and saw you. 

We meant again in faith and six then left. 

The seventh and eighth. 

There you saw me as much more. 

I changed, I grew, I got a bit of a chest but was still young. 

Even now I can still remember what you asked me out of the blue while doing my science homework at home. 

I didn't want to make you mad or sad for my ability to not want to do it. 

You shocked words out of me through text. 

My friend was your neighbor, I never knew till she said something. 

I found out then your father thought you were some saint. 

He also found the texts I wanted to delete, ones I regret even now. 

I regret so much, but I'm not sure if I fully regret you. 

Because you showed me how to grow in a way.

You showed me how not to trust everyone at first.