He's no different

I've know all walks of life in my time on this planet. They're all just people, each different. I never think twice about the friends I make. They're all just people who are different from me, with different stories, different lives. So why is he different? Why do I think twice before I call him? Why do I feel I'm doing something wrong when I talk to him? Isn't he just another person? Doesn't he just have a couple flaws like everyone else? Why should such a little thing matter if it didn't matter before I knew? Surely I've had friends who have done worse. And I never wonder why I called them friend. Because they were one, but isn't he? Of course, but I can't convince myself. Must we drift away to calm my conscience? It seems like such a hypocritical thing to do...