Your brother and cousins never let you hear the end of it.

Eleven years later, Tina Kennard still looks just as pretty with a barrette in her hair. But then she always looks pretty. No, actually, she looks the epitome of beautiful every second of every day.

One would think that after eleven years, one would get used to her smile, her voice, her laugh – but you don’t. Every time you get to witness any of these wonders, it still feels like a small miracle that this girl is in your life.

You are absolutely convinced that she is nothing short of perfect.

Your eyes follow her everywhere. You watch her every move. You know it’s creepy, but you can’t help it. You can’t not look at her whenever she’s around. Her eyes, her face, her smile, her nose, her lips, her chest, her stomach, her arms, her ass, her legs, even her feet – you cannot get over how gorgeous and sexy she is.

Oh, the things you would do to her if you could only touch her. If only you could touch her just once…

You long for her so intensely it hurts. It keeps you awake at night.

A part of you knows it’s not healthy, but you can’t stop yourself. You are positive that you would gladly die if you thought it would make her happy. You’d give your life for her in a heartbeat, without second thought.

It absolutely kills you inside when she has a boyfriend. You feel your blood boiling, your head pounding, your veins nearly popping when she walks around with a new one on her arm. You want to punch them where it hurts the most, you want to kick the everliving shit out of them for touching her that way. They don’t deserve her. They don’t know her the way you do. They see a pretty face and think that’s all there is to her.

You try to make the hurt go away by kissing Dana, by having sex with Dana.

It’s impossible.

You remember hearing that Tina was pregnant. You remember how it felt like all air was just sucked from your lungs. It was as if your insides were collapsing, you couldn’t breathe or think or eat or sleep or function. You were empty. Hollow inside. You went through the motions, desperately trying to make everything unreal. Nothing got through to you. It was as if you were living in a bubble, all sight and sound retorted. You remember going to your bedroom, closing the door and not leaving it for a week. You remember how your room was nearly covered in tissues.