even if the initial trickle of those first few weeks establishing companionship are blurry, there are certain things about us i use to define myself, meaning i will not ever forget or let go of. there was no introduction past learning names, we bloomed quickly, much faster than any person i had ever tried to embrace and be able to recall before. my first sleepover was with her. she was my outlet and my muse. I love writing about her, because she is one of the most beautiful people I have in my life.
bambi was my twin flame as an undecorated thirteen-year-old in school. we found each other, i do not even recall how. all i know is we were in orchestra class. see. it started in orchestra class. we started this story in the most appropriate setting possible for her and i. i already love her. an itch for art calls for an immense threshold of love, i know that because i have felt it. and it started with her, my best friend from this day on.
my orchestra teacher hated me, he thought I was so annoying. on top of this, i was quite literally, as a thirteen-year-old, in love with our first chair cellist. as an older being educated on love now, i could not tell you why. perhaps it was about his talent or his shared love of the strings. maybe as a child i fantasized of him serenading me outside my window with – not a guitar, but a cello. maybe for some reason that did me right. i was not too bad at violin myself, so i tended to show off to him. bambi was less of a die-hard string player, but she was my biggest fan on solo wednesday. i remember one wednesday, i got up in front of the class to bow the "pirates of the carribbean" theme song. while i was not able to catch a glimpse of our top cellist paying attention to my playing, i sat down after I was finished, next to bambi, who was so eager to tell me he was tapping his foot. when i tell you i was overcome with joy, i practically squealed in my seat. she got me. she really got me.
days upon weeks upon months upon years went by where there were love triangles, and rumors, and scary text messages from fellow undeveloped human beings around me in the institution, but bambi was always over my shoulder, following me through life. we were also mutual, i did not even mention. she had me too. we were a true duo. we raised each other. she taught me how to use a tampon. i was never alone in my beginning stages of facing grief and fear upon heartbreak and pain. she is not only my best friend, but a beautiful person. this woman is an elaborate piece of art with all forms of media. art that sings, songs that paint, and i love her.
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