I remember liking a girl in elementary school. It’s strange to think that even then, something in me knew.
I remember the first girl I really had a crush on. It was sixth grade, and she was my best friend, but a part of me hated her. I had no idea at the time, but now I know why.
I remember when I started middle school after moving away from my friends, there were so many people. But I saw a girl from my class, and I was drawn to her. We were friends for a long time after.
I remember that in eighth grade, she had been gone. But she came back that last day. I hugged her, and she told me later, years later, that’s when she had fallen in love with me.
I remember a party. She hugged me. She never hugged anyone. That night, I fell in love with her.
I remember being terrified. That it might be true. That my mom might find out… That she might find out.
I remember all those times my mother would ask in a terrified tone if I was gay…
I remember a day that I cut class with her, and made my parents worry. We joked, and laughed, about having sex in the back of a white car. The blush never left my cheeks.
I remember I spent all of my time with her.
I remember a day in winter, we went to the park. Everything was frozen, and we each tossed a penny on the ice, and made a wish. Then, she held my hands, and tried to keep me warm.
I remember when I finally told my friends. They pried my secret from me, and everything in me shook, and burned. I felt like I might break. But everything was fine.
I remember that even though one girl was still my friend, I made her uncomfortable.
I remember finally telling her, a year after falling, that I loved her. And I remember she told me she loved me, too.
I remember a night we were laying together, talking about us. She told me she had wished I would love her. And I remember not kissing her.
I remember when things between us finally fell apart after that…
And I remember regretting, even now, that I had never told her sooner…