The Chatroom

While wandering about aimlessly in my little world I stumbled upon a site.

In this “place” let’s call it, I found many people sharing thoughts, sharing jokes and all the matter of socialization I could imagine.

I found myself comfortable here…

I enjoyed it…

I met loads of friendly people, some only visited once, some a couple of times, others were “regulars” as they called themselves.  After some time, I ended up becoming one of them, one of the regulars I should say.  I visited the site everyday after school and spend countless hours talking with the numerous people I found, it was fun and I felt comfortable “being myself”.

After a bit of time there I met someone.  This person became very precious to me.  Even though we had only just met, I had deep feelings for this person.

She became my first friend, my very first  real friend.

We started talking daily, we spoke of everything.  Instead of talking in public chatrooms we started talking in private chatrooms, just me and her.

We became close friends, she spoke to me of her passions, her frustrations, loves, hatreds, her family, her life, herself… of everything.

And yet…. I never spoke to her of my story.

After some time, I guess curiosity struck her…

She wanted to know about my life… 

I didn’t know what to tell her, what was there to tell?

I didn’t want to give her the story of the “life” I was living.. it didn’t belong to me.

Instead, I chose to give her, not my story

But the way I felt my story was…

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