I used to have many friends. Friends to pass time with, friends to immitate smiles with, and friends to not really partake in life with. Friends that talked about the inconvenience of rainy weather and the irritation of the gust of wind that unsettles wisps of hair. Friends that couldn't see the beauty in the rain and the subtle mystery of a gust of wind. I often felt so very alone in my own head where no one else seemed to understand the words that lived inside of me. Then, a little over two years ago a girl that I had prevoiusly known of was working with my youth group as an intern. We struck of a friendship immediately and it seemed that we never stopped talking. I was overwhelmed with this new excitement, because I had never known someone that thought like me. I remember we read the same books, liked the same movies, listened to the same voices, laughed in the same pitch, and dreamt in the same colors. In over three months, we never went a day without seeing one another and never went more than a few hours without contact. I was no longer alone; I was very much understood and known. For isn't the opposite of being alone very much being known? At this point it was the end of the summer and her return to school was coming. She went to school very far away and I was dreading this day more than anything. I specifically remember thinking as I watched her walk towards the terminal, through my tears, that she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen and that I never wanted to have to be away from her. The thought confused me and I pushed it away quickly, because I was raised in a very legalistic church. Thoughts like that were obviously sinful. The fall passed slowly and she started putting walls back up that we had spent so much time tearing down and contact slowly became unheard of. There were many things we worked through later that fall when she visted me and we came out feeling that our friendship was stronger and that we were even closer than ever before. She decided to take the spring semester off of school and so she lived where I did from January to August. She was my everything and I never went a day without speaking to her. I didn't think anything further of my feelings towards her because, well, we were best friends. Nothing more. As the summer approached I began dating someone and so did she. We both loathed the fact that the other would spend time with these other guys but we both tried very hard to hide our jealousy. Both our relationships ended on account of the other's request and neither of us seemed to care too much. We only needed eachother. This girl helped me in ways that no one ever had. I have struggled with self harm for close to six years and she was the only one that I ever spoke to about it and she encouraged me daily in my fight against it. She struggled with depression, among other things, and we fought together against both of these evils. One day I found a suicide note that she had written a few weeks before and I wept. She found me in her room in complete hysterics and she couldn't calm me down for hours. Finally after I could cry no longer she sat me up on the bed and just held me and rubbed my hair and just reassured me that she was here and well. I remember skin on skin. Tension so thick that neither of us dared to move. I moved first, ever so slowly, and let my mouth hover over hers. Slowly, but passionately her lips crushed onto mine. For the first time in over a year we let ourselves feel the emotions that had burned the entire time. For the first time we didn't shy away from the feelings that would creep up when we touched unexpectedly. For the first time I could express a small ammount of the passion I felt towards her. Days went by and we chose not to discuss it. We continued kissing and marveling over the lines and angles the other's face and neck but we never spoke about it. We knew that what we were allowing ourselves to feel was considered wrong. Especially since I was only 16 and she was 22. Weeks went by and things intensified, our physical relationship grew and we began to explain that our actions were only because we loved eachother so deeply as friends and sisters. That was all, there was nothing else. She went back to school and we both stopped discussing the events that had taken place and we continued our friendship as it always had. I knew deep down that I had feelings that I didn't understand for her but I pushed them away because the only times I let myself dwell on these feelings was when I could show her physically how I felt towards her. Halfway through her last semester of school she called me one morning and quietly told me that she never thought she would do anything physical with another girl but she had made out with someone else. Until that point I hadn't let myself feel the intensity of my feelings and love for her. I hadn't admitted to myself that I was completely in love with this short girl that could make me more angry than anyone else that I know. When she told me she had been with someone else I snapped a little bit. I turned off my phone and refused to respond to her. I went to school and work and straight home as soon as I could. I remember sitting in my closet, razor in my hand, struggling to breathe. I was shaking and everything inside of me hurt, ached, burned. This beautiful girl that I loved had been used sexually so many times in her life. Sexually abused from a young age and taken advantage of by so many guys throughout high school. The thought that someone had even kissed her with selfish intensions enraged me so much that I didn't think I could control myself. I knew I couldn't control myself. That afternoon I opened my arms and let the blood pour from my arms. Pour in a way that had never happened in my five years of self harm. Poured so quickly that I got dizzy and became so frightened that I would lose too much blood. Blood covered my shirt and my closet floor and I cried. Sobbed. Mourned for the one that I loved and ached to hold her. I wasn't angry at her, hurt, but not angry. I needed stitches but if I had gone to the hospital I would have been admited and no one wanted that so I went without. At this point we both came completely clean with our feelings for one another. I loved her so deeply that it scared me. I always had, I just hadn't understood what they meant because of the fear of what the church and my family would think. She told me she fell in love with me the first month that we met. She had pushed it down for over a year and, for my sake, not shown her feelings. She had been quiet when I talked about guys and looked away when I changed in front of her. Those things seem trivial, but she genuinely loved me and didn't want to defile or wrong me in any way. Those weeks after I hurt myself were rough. They were exciting in that we could share our love for one another and tell eachother of the other's meaning to us. Rough because our beliefs were so conflicting. Was this wrong? It had to be kept secret. Over thanksgiving she came home and I spent a beautiful five days with her that we could finally be together in in the way that we had truly wanted to. I wouldn't trade those days and nights for anything in the entire world. From cuddling on the couch and watching silly movies to waking up at 4 am to just talk and remember that we had eachother. From going blackfriday shopping and running around screaming through the freezing parking lot to kissing at stop lights. That week we took a step that neither of us was certain we wanted to take. It happened without a discussion that fully expressed our concerns and desires on the subject. We gave ourselves completely to eachother and that is something I won't ever regret. Two days later she went back to school to finish up and graduate and she left, leaving both of us a bit nervous and frightened at what our future would look like. Two weeks later my parents informed me that they felt that our relationship had gotten too emotionally dependend and they wanted us to sever contact. Neither of us were in position to argue because what had gone on wasn't something that would be looked upon kindly with the age difference. We said our tearful goodbye in secret in December of last year and so began the most miserable 10 months of my life. I have been in and out of counseling because of my obvious depression and my complete relapse back into self harm. I have learned to cope with the everyday experiences of life but no day is ever not tainted by the memory of her. I still love her more than anything in the entire world and I have no interest in men or women. She is the only one for me. She has moved on with her life for the most part and I highly doubt there is any future. When I graduate I plan on pursuing her with every fiber of my being and every emotion my raw heart can muster. I am denied the one happiness that I found in life because it is apprently wrong for me to love another human being that is the same sex as me. I love her and I'm not ever going to stop. It can be called stupid because I am only 17 and still in high school, but people who say those things don't truly understand love. Love is commitment, knowledge, choice, and respect. It is very much so the passion, feelings, infatuation, and pure desire... But those things don't last forever. If those things were all I was going off of then I wouldn't have been able to survive the last 10 months and still feel as strongly as I do and look the next year in the face and know without a doubt that I will love her every bit as much as I do in this moment. Even though she is not holding out and waiting for me... I still love her. If I was angry over that, that wouldn't be love. I don't even know what I believe about the wrong and rights of our relationship... I just know that not loving her isn't an option. I still feel like I can't breathe a lot of days because I need her to be with me... Because I am terrified that the one I want to spend everyday of forever with won't want me when the time comes... I am terrified that maybe she didn't love me as much as she thought she did. I am terrified but still hopelessly in love.