For Myrna,

What would it be like if we were together? I find myself asking that question quite a lot. Sometimes I like to imagine it, closing my eyes, picturing what it would be like.

Running through grassy fields, the golden sun warm on our skin, the gentle breeze hitting our faces. Our laughs echoing through the trees as I chased you, reaching out to tag you, but never quite reaching. As the sun set, we'd slow down, breathless, and lay in the field together, you resting your head on my chest, your hair soft against my chin. It felt like home. I don't know how else to put it. Just the two of us as the sky turned gold, then purple, then dark, gazing up as the stars began to appear one by one, each one twinkling. You'd turn your head to face me, looking so beautiful in the gentle moonlight, getting lost in your eyes even after the sun had disappeared. Maybe all those stars are other worlds, you'd say, before smiling and looking back up.

You wearing my button down shirt, way too big, the sleeves swallowing your hands whole, the hem falling just past your waist, striding around our apartment without a care in the world, your hair falling effortlessly, like you weren't even trying.

Us sitting on the floor playing Uno, you cheating so obviously, so shamelessly, not even flinching when I caught you, just laughing, eyes wide and innocent like that would somehow work on me. It did. It always did. You'd be too adorable for me to actually be mad about anything.

Us sprawling on the couch after, close, really close, your warmth calming something restless in me, your heartbeat steadying mine. A scary scene would come on; your face burying into me, a small whimper, your arms pulling tighter around me like I was the safest place in the room, wishing you would have held on forever.

I wonder if you'd smile at the silly jokes I'd make when I'm half asleep. I wonder if you'd rest your head on my shoulder on the train, if you'd fall into my arms when the world got too heavy and just let me hold it with you for a while. I wonder what it would feel like to be yours. To know you're mine.

But I can't say it. Because saying it means knowing for certain instead of maybe. And maybe, as painful as it is, still has something in it. A sliver of hope to grasp on to. I'd rather carry that than lose you entirely. The friendship. The version of you I get to keep standing next to. It hurts. But it's a hurt I know. And I'd choose it over the other kind every time.

I close my eyes and think about the park. The soft grass beneath me, holding me like a gentle hug, the night air cool and still. I'm alone. I gaze up at the same stars we looked at together, twinkling the way they always do.

Maybe all those stars are other worlds.

Maybe in one of them, I'd be brave enough to ask.

Maybe in one of them, you'd say yes.

Happy 6 months Myrna!!!! I'm writing this on the 23rd of September 2025. Hopefully I get to send it to you. I can't believe it's been half a year… like that's genuinely crazy. Today was sooooo good. We hugged properly for the first time at southern cross when you ran down the stairs and you in my arms was one of the best feelings ever. I finally held your hand, yes I was absolutely terrified but it also felt really amazing. We got breakfasttt, convinced your mum you were with your friends the entire time… actually met up with your friends which was definitely not awkward for me in the slightest. We went to the park, the botanical gardens and I actually put my arm around you and I was really scared to do that and you nestled into me and I was like so happy I was doing a little dance in my head. Anyways we yapped. A lot… one because I like yapping, two because I was procrastinating asking you something. But eventually I mustered up the courage to ask if you wanted to make things official. Anddddd you didn't say yes. You kissed my cheek instead which in my option is like 100000 times better. 6 months would be march meaning you'd already be 16. Have we kissed yet? Did we wait until you were 16? I'd wait as long as it takes but dang at the same time I do really want to kiss you. I'm sure I'm only gonna ever get more impatient as time goes on. Anyways we met up with your friends again at central to go home. They were definitely on a phone call and not recording us. You kissed me on the cheek before trying to run away but the Myki gate faileddd. W Myki gate in my opinion. So I kinda easily caught up to you, walked you to your platform, hugged you, and you kissed me one last time before getting on your train. I never knew I'd feel this way for a girl. I grew up by myself and the fact that now I wanna share everything I have with you, give up that personal space just to be with you is crazy. I wonder what we've done in 6 months. Have you met my parents? Have I met yours? How many dates have we been on? How many kisses have we given each other? I hope it's too many to count, even if we only started after your birthday. Anyways I should wrap it up I have something else to write you'll read a bit later on. I love youuuuu.

What would it be like if we never dated? We'd still sit in the same places, still laugh at the same things like nothing was different. And maybe to everyone else, nothing would be. Class would carry on, friends would banter and the world wouldn't notice a gap. But I would.

There'd be no afternoons at your house, sliding around those slippery wooden floors, our laughs filling the silence as we tried stealing each other's socks, me always winning. No hiding behind the couch together, shoulders pressed up against each other's, giggling at reels with the volume low while your mum sat just above us watching TV. No quiet moments where you'd latch onto my leg when I tried to walk around, sliding behind me across the floor laughing, refusing to let go, making it completely impossible to get anywhere and neither of us minding.

No standing at your kitchen stove cooking together while you pressed gentle kisses into my cheek, one after another, like you had nowhere else to be. No cutting onions while you watched giggling as I was definitely not crying, not even slightly. No crispy lasagna we somehow made together, forcing our parents to eat some anyway, laughing the whole time. No feeding each other nachos on the couch as Yellowjackets played, me paying more attention to your beautiful eyes than what was playing.

No feeding you noodles late at night when your mum was on call and the stress had made everything feel heavier than it should. The way you'd smile softly every time I brought the spoon to your mouth, this quiet, grateful thank you, just before the giggling started when you picked up a straw to eat with instead, your whole face changing, your world getting just a little bit brighter in that small stupid moment that I would have given anything to keep giving you.

No times we'd eat out, feeding each other food from our chopsticks, carefully blowing on it before offering the first bite. No sharing a straw from your favourite drink without either of us thinking twice, the cup passing back and forth like it had always been that way, like it was the most natural thing in the world, because it was.

No cinema trips ending late at night, feeling you shift beside me as the tension built on screen, your hand finding my arm then my side, holding tighter and tighter until by the end you were practically on top of me, your face half pressed into my chest, insisting that you weren't scared.

No tickling you after a long day just to hear that laugh. The real one. The one you couldn't hold back no matter how hard you tried. No more trying to prove once and for all that you definitely cannot whistle. No relentless kisses all over each other's faces until we were both giggling, me telling you to stop and not meaning a single word of it, wishing quietly that it would never end. No playful hits as I'd tease you, them landing harder than you meant, you kissing those exact spots better afterwards, guilty and laughing at the same time, like that fixed everything. It always did.

No sneaking up to your room when your mum wasn't home, both of us knowing we weren't supposed to be there, going anyway, because some rules felt smaller than what was waiting on the other side of them. No lying together as the afternoon light came golden through your window, warm on our skin, the whole world outside carrying on without us, watching it slowly deepen, gold bleeding into amber bleeding into the soft deep blue of early evening, the air in the room growing cooler while we stayed warm against each other, your warmth and mine the only thing that mattered. The weight of you resting on me. The darker it got the heavier our eyes became, the whispering that we'd be together forever trailing off as our eyes grew heavier, both of us drifting wrapped around each other, our breathing slowing until it matched. An alarm set just in case, hoping quietly that something would let us stay like this. Not just tonight. A lifetime of it.

No station nights, standing under that cool pale light with nowhere to be and no reason to leave, talking about everything and nothing while the platform sat empty around us, kissing, holding each other in the stillness, the occasional train passing by, both of us wishing to ourselves that it could stay like this forever, forever feeling like a reasonable ask when I was standing next to you.

No moments where the whole world seemed to spin and the only still point was you, hearts pounding, holding each other like it was the only thing keeping everything from falling apart.

We would have just stayed friends. And from the outside it would have looked exactly the same. Same seats, same laughs, same orbit.

But you'd have been free. Free from the quiet weight of what people think, free from having to decide what to call me when someone asked, free to walk into any room without it costing you anything. Free to be exactly who you always wanted to be, without anything holding you back.

And I would have loved you either way. From exactly where I stood, in whatever version of close you allowed. I would have carried all of this somewhere deep inside, locked away where you'd never have to find it. Where it could never reach you. Never hurt you.

I wonder what that lifetime would have felt like. The golden light through your window, warm on our skin, the world outside carrying on without us. The slow fall into blue. The weight of you resting on me, your head rising and falling on my chest. A feeling like something I was never supposed to find.

Maybe in that lifetime, you were happy.

Maybe in that lifetime, you were free.

If I had a time machine, I'd go back.

Not far. Just far enough to find you before I knew what you'd mean to me. Before I understood what was happening. Back to the beginning, when you were just a face I hadn't learned yet, a name I didn't know I'd one day adore.

I'd go back to the first time I saw you. The first time I fell for those eyes, that effortless beauty you carried. How every time we talked, I found myself smiling a little more, caring a little less about the thoughts in my head and more about what you were saying, more about the warmth that crept in every time you were near. I didn't have a name for it yet, but I knew I wanted you.

I'd go back to that cold windy night, walking through the city back to the bus. Streetlights reflecting off wet pavement, wind cutting through our clothes, our hands brushing just barely, accidentally, and somehow it lit something in my chest that I spent the rest of the walk pretending wasn't there.

I'd go back to the day I saw you wearing a turtleneck under the T shirt. The goofiest combination I'd ever seen and yet somehow you looked completely adorable in it.

I'd go back to the chants. To you asking if I felt a breeze and hearing my name being shouted by dozens of voices all at once. I'd stand there pretending to be annoyed, pretending I hated every second of it, but the moment I heard your voice saying my name, something in me melted, like it was the sound I'd been trying to find. A sound that felt like home. I'd try to hide my smile, failing miserably at it.

I'd go back to one of the afternoons Tetris snuck off into the corner, away from everyone else huddled around our phones exchanging numbers. Something so ordinary, yet yours was the only one I ever wanted, quietly hoping one day I could put a heart next to your name.

I'd go back to the night we were practicing the dance, where you asked me a simple question. Something I could have answered honestly, but I didn't. I told you I liked someone else, not realising the words would shatter something the moment they left my mouth. I wore the words like a shield, like if I put something between us the pain of rejection couldn't reach me.

I'd go back to the evening you sang at Red Faces. Me somewhere in the audience completely dazed. Lost in a sea of phone torches swaying in the dark to your melodies, the room softly glowing around you, goosebumps all over my skin. Every time we'd make eye contact I'd look away too fast, my heart doing something embarrassing, hoping you wouldn't catch on.

I'd go back to the last night at camp, everyone partying, singing, dancing, having fun. And yet in that crowded room, the only person I wanted to be next to was you. The only person I wanted to spend the final moments with was you.

I'd go back to those late nights in the dorm rooms, long past when we should have been asleep, the room pitch black except for phone screens glowing in the dark and the soft blue of the night sky creeping through the window. Both of us finding reasons to keep going. The conversations that went somewhere real before either of us noticed. You were so easy to talk to it scared me and yet I'd still analyse every message as if five words would make or break the entire thing. I kept discovering new things about you. How much you cared about people, how soft you were, how I wanted you to be mine more and more as the minutes ticked by. I'd lie there in the dark afterwards, replaying things you'd said, not ready for the week to be over, not ready to go home to a world where I wouldn't find you in the dining hall every morning.

I'd go back to when we were just friends. When everything between us was still just a dream I didn't have to grieve if I never said it out loud.

I'd go back to the moment it finally happened. Sitting on the edge of my bed, the room washed blue from my light, my phone clutched so tightly my knuckles ached, partly from nerves, partly because my hands wouldn't stop sweating. Your name on my screen. My heart beating out of my chest. Anxiety washing over me as I saw a typing bubble appear and disappear over and over. The world tilted. My fingers shaking, staring at the keyboard not knowing what to say first.

Sometimes I think about it. Going back not just to the good parts. The parts where we'd run around your house stealing each other's socks, the times you'd press kisses into my face as I cooked for you, the times we'd snuggle together, skin to skin, falling asleep. But to all of it. To the late nights I held myself together by a thread. To the moments I got it wrong and you stayed anyway, reassuring me that we'd work it out, your voice soft on the other end of the phone. The weight of loving someone and knowing I can't always be what they need. Knowing you carry more than you should because of me.

If I had a time machine, I'd go back.

Not far. Just far enough to find you before I knew what you'd mean to me. Before I understood what was happening. Back to the beginning, when you were just a face I hadn't learned yet, a name I didn't know I'd one day adore.

And I'd choose you all over again. Every single time.

Even if I knew you wouldn't choose me.