You sit in the car wondering why you ended up here again, with your breath smelling of strong whiskey. You call your best friend, but she lets you go to voicemail. She already knows what this call is about. You leave a message crying about your sorry life, and stumble out of a wrecked car that isn’t even yours. You throw the phone into the water, feeling no need to keep it anyways. A mess is what you are. A self-pitying worthless piece of s*** that you’re convinced no can love.
You stand on the edge of the bridge, and laugh. Laugh so hard you start to feel tears rushing down your cheeks. And these tears won’t stop coming as you look down. You’re laughter turns into sobs, and you fall backwards, your butt hits the pavement. You can’t even feel the pain, you’re so numb; yet you can think. Another failed attempt to drink away the memories of kissing her.
  The sense of how alone you are creeps into your brain and you start to shake. You don’t want to die, but you have no one. Your best friend hasn’t seen you in years. You’re family is too busy fighting to even notice the state you’re in. Your arms have so many scars from needles of endless drugs you’ve tried to use to forget about what your dad said to you after you came home that night. None of them work. Your job is s***, and your school stresses you to the point of wanting death. Nothing is going right. It’s all wrong.
Then a set of headlights will shine behind your back. You shiver when they go off, never realizing how cold you are. You see two long legs clad in khaki pants. You look up and see that it’s that girl who works near you. Always visiting you at work, that same Goodberry’s hat that makes you smile when you see it. You start remember.
“That movie was so cute,” you said as you grabbed her arm, pulling her closer to you. Your father’s disappointed frown popped into your head but you shook it away.
“Haha yeah. That’s why kid’s movies are the best!” she said.
You are in awe of her beautiful laughter. You walked back to her car, and you rested against it. The back of the cool car hit your exposed skin, and made you feel at ease.
“So, I tried to look cute for you. How did I do?” You said.
You stand up, stepping away from the car, and twirl in your short skirt; your mom almost skinned you for wearing it. She grabbed your hips and pulled you closer.
You leaned against her you let yourself have this. You looked up at her and you kissed her cheek.
“You missed.” She said.
So you kissed her lips. Everyone who ever told you kissing girls is gross, was so wrong. Her soft lips meeting your lips, was gentle and easy. Your sapphic heart just about burst from your chest, so long deprived from this feeling.
She helps you up wordlessly from the ground, and take you to her car.  She helps you into the passenger side and you lean against the window. She asks you if you wanna talk about it, and you say no. You end up falling asleep, but when you wake up you are being laid down in a soft bed. You make her stay with you and cry into her shoulder.
She holds you all night and doesn’t say a word. The next morning comes, and both of you are asleep. In the afternoon, you tell her about how your father said what you did was wrong. That he called you a monster and told you that you would become a pedophile.
“He’s wrong, Sarah. I hope you know that,” She says.
“Yeah, but he’s my dad. He used to be my best friend. I messed it all up.”
She strokes your cheek, and kisses the top of your head. Then she kisses you not caring what’s on your breath. She kisses your skin, whispering comforts and reassurances. “Normal.” “Beautiful.” You start to believe her after the third time she does this.
She drops you off at home, and you find your best friend waiting there to give you the biggest apology hug known to man. She asks you if you are okay, and you say, Yeah I’m fine. Really, man, I’m okay. For once it is actually true.