It's the first day of high school and everybody in our class is introducing themselves. I'm nervous as shit to make at least a somewhat good impression on everyone, the teacher's English is horrible, and there's a redhead behind me who says that she shares the same nickname as I do. I think her eyes look kind of like a rat's, but they're a really pretty shade of green.<?XML:NAMESPACE PREFIX = O />

 

It's the second day of school, we take a tour of the school and I'm bored to the extent I think I might burst. The girl who has the audacity to claim my name has a really funny shirt: bright yellow with a pink pig. I go up to her and sigh that are we really supposed to care about the school's history; that I personally am all for waiting until I get the hell out of there. She laughs and agrees.

 

It's the first day of real lessons; we sit next to each other in every class and laugh together when we both write the same name in the seating arrangement.

 

It's the first Saturday since school started and I'm sitting in a park downtown with the redhead and some of her friends. It's really weird, with the exception of her; they're all wearing black, lots of chains and unbelievable amounts of makeup. And they talk with a really strong country accent and curse all the time. They seem nice enough, and she turns out to be a really funny person.

 

It's recess on the second week of school, and we're sitting in the schoolyard with some classmates. She's written "Fuck you, Kela" on her jeans and laughs at me because I ask her who that is.

 

We're sitting in an Internet café because neither of us have access to the Web at home. I'm writing an email to a friend in the States and the green-eyed girl is sitting next to me, talking to her friends online. I just can't stop looking at her.

 

It's Biology class and we're sitting in the back of the classroom with a tall, British boy, talking and paying no attention whatsoever to the teacher with the bad English. The boy asks us if we're straight, and she says without blinking an eye that she's bisexual. I think my heart might have skipped a beat, and I say shyly that I am, too.

 

It's the first Sunday of September and I'm unpacking my room, cursing the fact that I'm stuck at home. I get a text message from her which says that it sucks that I live so far away from downtown, she'd love to hang out with me a lot more. I start grinning like a fool while trying to piece together my bedside table.

 

A German girl in our class asks me during Math class if I like anybody. I shyly say that maybe I do. She won't stop pestering me about it until I admit that I might have a crush on that girl sitting on her other side. She swears that the girl told her that she likes me, too. I refuse to believe her.

 

My namesake is absent from school, she sends me a message that she's sick. I ask this kind of gay-looking bloke to sit next to me in class. He turns out to be really sweet, and we go to the redhead's place after school to cheer her up a bit. We laugh hysterically and take hilarious pictures, one of which will eventually be one of my favourite pictures of all time.

 

I'm writing in my diary, as I always do before going to bed. As I trace my pen on the paper, I see letters forming into words, words into sentences, all about her.

 

It's a Friday night and I'm partying at her place with her and two others. I'm lying down on the couch with her, eating ice cream with the same spoon. I say drunkenly that this is almost like us making out. She asks if we should make out; I giggle and I think I might have even blushed, but don't have the guts to do what she suggested.

 

Later that night, we're sitting next to each other on her balcony, she's smoking a fag and I'm babbling to her about my friends back home. At some point, we fall quiet and she leans forward and I meet her lips in the best kiss I'd had in my life so far.

 

A few days later, I write her a text message that I'm going to go crazy unless I tell her how I feel about her, that I really like her. When she replies that she feels the same way, it plasters a smile on my face that lasts the entire day.

 

Two weeks after that, we're sitting on her couch, one of our guy-friends is lying down on her bed. We're not doing anything special, just talking about everyday things. All of a sudden, the boy asks if we're a couple. We look at each other and smile, and she replies that "I guess we are."

 

One year, 9 months, and 28 days later I say goodbye to her at the station in Tampere. My bag is heavy as shit, I'm tired, and I've just had one of the best weekends of my life with her and the pouf-looking guy I met such a long time ago. I hug her for what seems like forever but still not enough, and kiss her lightly on the lips. I can feel tears welling up in my eyes, so I quickly try to compose myself, tell her that she's incredibly dear to me, and start walking toward the train doors. I know that was the last kiss we'd share for weeks, months, a year, maybe forever; it hurts so incredibly much to know that she is going on a date with some bloke later today, but I try not to think about it.

 

I boarded that train 4 hours ago, and started writing this one hour ago. During these hours, I've replayed over and over everything that's happened between us during these two years. I can still remember clearly what she looked when she sat in that desk behind me on the 14^th of August, 2006, how she tasted of beer and strawberry liquor when we kissed for the first time, when she took my hand for the first time. I remember how it was a bit awkward but still incredibly hot when I slept over at her place for he first time, and I still get butterflies in my stomach when I think of the time she first told me she loved me. I remember every fight, every time I've just wanted to give up on everything; but I also remember every kiss, every 'I love you', every morning that I've woken up with my arms tangled with hers.

 

I've been lost in memories for the whole evening. Usually I like going back in time in my mind, but now, when I know that I can never have that back, it's really quite horrible. It hurts like hell to know that I don't have her anymore; it hurts to know that she's found someone who's better than me. It hurts to see her write less-than-three to someone who's not me.

 

You all probably know who she is. I don't care; I just had to get this off my chest. I hope she knows how much she means to me and how she'll always have a piece of my heart with her. Friends or more-than-friends, it doesn't matter. I'll always love her to some extent and she had better know that.