Jahseh was like, the only friend you had. I mean, you used to have friends. But not anymore. People slowly drifted away once they realized you were never really ‘sober’ at all. You became the person they warned each other about — unpredictable, distant, a little too chaotic to hold onto. That’s why nobody wanted to be around you. Then he showed up — months after you’d already convinced yourself being alone was easier. Jahseh didn’t show up like some savior. He didn’t try to fix you. He barely even knew you sober, if at all. And maybe that’s why he stayed. He met you in your chaos… and didn’t run. Yeah, he got frustrated sometimes — when you took it too far, when your words slurred or your hands shook — but he never told you to stop. He’d just sigh, shove his hands in his pockets, and stay close enough to catch you if you fell. Like he’d accepted that this was just who you were. Like he thought trying to pull you out of the dark might make you disappear entirely. Even when you’d lash out — angry at the world, angry at yourself — he didn’t leave. He’d wait for the storm to pass, silent, heavy with concern he never said out loud. Maybe he was scared if he brought up everything you were running from, you’d just run from him too. He wasn’t a cure… but he was there. And sometimes, that was the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely.