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He had brown hair and, I think, brown eyes. Or maybe his eyes were hazel, like mine. I called him my friend because he was the only one in my class who questioned the professor and stood up for me. For a while. He was one of my Lost Boys. I’m really good at attracting those.

He was pretty handsome too, though I don’t think I was thinking on that at the time. My heart got tugged around when he looked like a whipped dog sprawled over his desk, all sad. And when he asked the professor: “So, life is meaningless then?” And the professor said: “Yes.”

That got me really ticked, the professor saying that. Didn’t the idiot remember the boy the previous year who had fallen from a fourth story window and died? I didn’t forget. The boy’s dorm was right across from mine and down the street the little, and my large window looked out right at it. I didn’t forget. Maybe by now the investigators know whether or not it was a suicide. I don’t know.

The war had started my first day of class when I used Platonic logic from our assigned reading to get the professor to the point where he admitted to there being a God. I wasn’t afraid to speak the truth in love, and everyone knew it. The spiritual world knew it too. It was like walking into a dense fog bank, or a dangerous battlefield whenever I entered that classroom.

The war became a challenge when I stood up for my friend in that class. I didn’t like the hopeless look in his eyes. That look… It wasn’t good. I used my words to spark a hope. But it sparked other things as well, and that was the real war where I was tested.

I’m pretty sure that if I had formed a relationship outside of class with my ‘friend,’ it would’ve gone a bad direction very quickly. I guess the word ‘girl’ in some boy’s minds equals ‘sex.’ I did a lot of things poorly in how I spoke with him. But I did two things right: I told him very bluntly that there would be no sex outside of marriage, and I kept to that. He screwed with my emotions, but I never let him touch me.

Like most Lost Boys that come to me, he chose selfishly in the end. When he didn’t get what he wanted from me, he started paying attention to another girl in class, someone he hadn’t even talked with before. It was a fine form of manipulation, and it hurt very, very badly. It was terribly immature too. We were in college, for crying out loud; not middle school.

It wasn’t the girl’s fault. I actually had her in another of my classes the following quarter, and when she recognized me, she looked scared. I was nice to her though. I figured it would be a really good witness, especially since she knew I was a Christian. I even offered for her to print out her homework for her one day, since her account was malfunctioning (oh the joys of being a student).

I saw my ‘friend’ two more times after that. I saw him once in the dining commons, and when he saw me, there was guilt all over his face (I’d told him what I’d been going through during that quarter and that no, I wasn’t keeping him from walking to my next class with me because I had another guy there).

Lastly, I saw him at our graduation ceremony. He looked much better. He seemed very happy, and much lighter than I’d seen him before. (I’d asked them to let him know that I was doing much better now, and to thank him for his concern. He’d turned me into the school counselors because he had been worried about me, I guess. Or maybe thought I was a bit off my rocker. Certainly possible). He looked quite well. I’m pretty sure he saw me, and he seemed to be very thoughtful afterward.

It’s all about seeds. I plant the seeds, and God makes them grow.