Your thirteen years old when you realise that your allowed to like girls like you like boys. It sinks in to your skin like a permission from someone you don’t know. Your thirteen when you fall in love with your best friend, not that you will realise until two years after you drift apart. All you want is to be close to her. In away with out realising it you kinda want to crawl in to her skin and just exist. But best friends can feel like that and you have a girlfriend you don’t like touching so you don’t think about it. Instead your girlfriend hates her and you lie in her lap and cuddle like nothing in the world could go wrong. Five years later when you think about being 14 again, you can’t remember your girlfriend, but your best friend. You remember wanting to be so much like her and how much you loved her, you still have the ring she brought you at a fair tucked away in your jewellery box. In a way she was your first love. Which makes sense, because when she tells you she has a girlfriend from her old school after she’s left yours, it kinda scares you how hopeless it feels. Both of you were obsessed with Dan and Phil, where in the end you perfectly matched each other be being the Phil to her Dan. Though for moments your were adamant it was the other way round. Your thirteen-fourteen when your friends tell you that you guys would be cute together. Your in love with her then probably. But as you usually are your oblivious to it. To busy matching your blue and green to her black and grey. To busy lying on the ground of your friends hangout with your head in her lap, with her hand in your hair never wanting this moment to end because for once in your short life your in the moment, not your head. Because in the end as your sit in your bed five years later no longer the young girl that loved her, you realise it finally. She was your first love, and everyone else knew before you.