[revert to 1996]

I am fifteen years old. While I am at school, I meet the love of my life. She is my best friend, as intelligent and neurotic as I am. She stops me from starving, and I give her my hand. We learn about lies and art; we change our way of life. We are wild and secure in eachother. This makes our awkwardness around others okay. We sit knock-kneed outside in our ragged and ripped jeans, no one notices us. We have deliberate greasy-sloppy hairstyles; we learn to get away from our mothers. We make art together, we start to move new muscles, and with her, I am safe.

She was born February 14, 1980, and today I want to tell her that she is my sunshine.

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