“I’m half Greek, half god!” K. G.

I was eighteen when I first moved out and by moving out I don’t mean just living on my own, I mean living on my own in a foreign country that I didn’t even know the language of. My parents are very careful – you can tell – sent their teenage daughter across the seas without a guardian. To tell the truth that’s a bit exaggerated. Yet my intention was to show the way others viewed my beyond risky life decision to drop out of the local collage and move abroad. My poor parents actually had no choice and I can remember my dad telling me he wouldn’t forgive himself for supporting my decision if I didn’t pull it off. “Don’t you dare to let me down,” he said.

Bulgaria was fine; far not what I had in mind in terms of the opportunities it offered. The university was great though; the community and the small town of Blagoevgrad with its astonishing landscapes. The best thing about my upcoming experience was the friends that I was making. For the first time in my life did I face such diversity. They came from all over the world and turned this place into a multicultural community where knowing the language of the country was irrelevant – lucky me! Now I know where it comes from – keep moving into places I hardly know much about and getting away with it. Developed the skills from back then.

Anyways, this one friend I made, however, was special. Not that I could tell that from the beginning though. I swear, I couldn’t stand the guy. “What a show-off,” I rolled my eyes every time he talked in class, “Charmed, ain’t we?” And his accent – drove me nuts. Little did I know I couldn’t stand the person I was about to become very good friends with. He was being so nice I had no excuse to dislike him which really pissed me off. I remember him saying he was half Greek, half god. Bastard.

Now imagine that and then imagine my face when he casually starts talking to me like we know each other forever. Annoyed. Well, flash forward few weeks and we are in the same crew making plans together, studying, watching movies and going out. I had even forgotten I had my issues, though I kept teasing him about the narcissism he was making the impression he had. I claimed he enjoyed misleading people. Told you – bastard.

He was only twenty. Soft, symmetric features, brown eyes that he assured had a hint of green in them in the sun. No, take my word on that one. Ashy brown hair styled away from his face and a warm smile that spread this new form of energy unique only to him. Evil, I know, no wonder I couldn’t stand him. That smile was always there changing the atmosphere around him, making one addicted to his presence. The one thing I wanted to learn from him was his ability of giving an Oscar worthy performance; never in million years could you know what he was going through inside unless he told you. It was never all across his face like it is with the rest of us. Half god huh? One of the hardest people to read and that’s probably what win over my curiosity.

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