Growing up, I wasn’t the most sociable person. I mean, I had friends, but I kept my circle close. Lowered self esteem, not sure I could find the feeling to belong.

So I make it to high school. Everything I expected. I’m smart but don’t fit in with the Smart kids. I smoke weed but not quite in the circle. A loose electron, if you will. I make it to senior year. I formally became friends with someone I’ve known since I began school. I was an awkward teen. And she got the bill in the loosest sense being a freshman. Still, we made a connection being outcasts.

I kissed her, our difference in maturity manifested, I relented. I liked her, and I didn’t want her to hate me.

Fast forward 4 years. We’re both adults but still at different stages in growth. I’m designing with a pretty bad breakup… And she’s still finding herself in her new freedom. Terrible timing.

3 years later. We’ve stayed in touch, and we’re both seeing people. Both in love, and both close with each other. We’re hoping for bright futures for each other.

25. The year I turn 25 feels like a pivotal moment, even though at the time it was just a hurricane of terrible moments and salvation. It was the one time in our time together we were both single.

We’re not now. We’re both married. With children. Beautiful kids. Beautiful spouses. Lives we wanted; better than our own growing up.

We’re happy. We have the things we want.

We love our families deeply. Spouse, children, etc.

I know that I love her more than my close friend.

She feels the same.

We have to restrict, hide, deny it.