Skinny love:

[Ski-n-ny lo-ve]

1. When two people love each other but are too shy to admit it but they still show it.

2. Love that's too skinny to survive. It's not properly fleshed out, and is doomed to failure.

3. When you're in a relationship because you need to be, but that's not necessarily why you should be in a relationship. And it's skinny; it doesn't have weight.

Skinny love doesn't stand a chance because it's not nourished.

Sometimes I miss being young.

It was so easy for us back; the only thing we truly ever had to worry about was if anybody had been speaking about us behind our back and even then, the bitchy-ness only lasted a week. We were all free. And the most important part, I had you. You were in my life and I was happy; we were happy.

Looking back now, I could see why you acted the way you did. I made you uneasy, confused, and scared. I get it now. But the problem with being young was not that no one took us seriously, we were stuck between being treated like kids yet expected to act like adults, or the fact that we were TOO young to do most of the things that attracted our attention. No, it was the fact that we had absolutely no experience. We had no clue what to do in this big scary world by ourselves for the first time so we all assumed everything was meant to go our way.

I could so easily tell you where everything went wrong because I remember every second with you so clearly. You were my best friend and I don't think I would've been able to survive and become the woman I am today if you weren't.

When we were young I practically idolised you. But it wasn't just me. You were so wonderful that in some way everyone had looked up to you, even if they showed it in the worst ways. You was the girl who proudly wore her retainers every day around school, even if they gave you a lisp. You gave girls the confidence to do that as well.

You was the girl who managed to talk her way out of any situation and in some cases detention. You had the loudest yet most cheerful laugh I have ever heard in all my life and every time you laughed at something because of me, I felt a blanket of pride and glee cover me, with only one thought running through my mind: I caused that laugh.

I always tried to make you laugh and most of the time it worked. You always stared at me with a loving look in your eye after you calmed down and each time my stomach twisted in knots.

But you was also the most caring person towards me and still to this day, I smile at your acts of kindness. I remember you telling me that when you first started at our school, I was the only person who was nice to you. I didn't believe it. "Who wouldn't want to be nice to you?" I would say but you just smiled and grabbed my hand, letting me know how much it cared in just one simple gesture.

After the first time you told me that, I started noticing more things. Like how you would act slightly more mean to girls if they even looked at us the wrong way. But the main thing I would notice was how protective you was of me. I was always a bit slow to understand things and many girls had picked on me before but after you came they stopped. They use to laugh at me and say rude comments but you always explained things to me before I could say anything. No matter who it was, if anyone hurt me you always made sure they paid.

I once accidently stumbled across you shouting at one girl after school. She had tripped me earlier that day and you glared at her, your jaw tensing. I managed to lead you away but I just assumed you would've let it go. I will admit you did scare me a little; you could be very vicious when you wanted to be. You was saying a lot of things in Spanish to her and I couldn't understand any of it. But one thing you said stuck in my head and I remember spending ages online trying to translate it:

Aléjate de ella. Ella es mía. Stay away from her. She is mine.

I never really understood that, I was yours? Whatever it meant made me extremely happy afterwards. You never knew I had overheard you though and I doubt that girl understood what it meant. Nobody else in our class knew fluent Spanish and they were all so narrow-minded to even ask where exactly it was you were from. Based on your skin and that fact you could speak Spanish they all assumed you were either Spanish or Mexican. It really infuriated you and every time they made a comment in Spanish class about the woman on tape being your relative, I wanted to hit each and every one of them for you.

However, you was also caring in little ways like gifts on my birthday. I remember you giving a necklace for my thirteenth. It was just a tiny jar with glitter in on a chain and the word 'hope' on a cardboard slice the same size. You told me it was a jar of hope and I should always wear, especially when you weren't around. You always had a way of looking at the worst of things so I took it upon myself to be the optimistic one in our friendship; I gave you hope everyday so this was a little token to give me some back. I loved it.

You also cared for me as we started getting older and boys started becoming more interesting to everyone. Everyone except me. As I got talking to most of them I found the only thing running through my mind was what you would be doing, or what you would think about this conversation. Everything was about you!

Then came the awkward time when the school started offering 'drop box sessions'. They were supposed to be sessions at lunch time where you go and they offer sex advice, lessons or in some rare cases, contraception. When this started we found each other talking about sex more often. At the time I was dating a guy called Max. He was nice and we could have conversations but it seemed as if one minute we were talking, the next he was shoving his tongue down my throat and trying to get in my pants. He also acted a lot more arrogant in front of his friends, making little blonde remarks about me and saying how my jar of hope was a stupid idea and I should just bin it. He made me feel stupid.

When I told you about how he was, you immediately dragged me along to one of the drop box sessions and stay with me the whole way through. You probably knew most of the things already but the fact you stayed, just to help me, made me appreciate you even more.

That was the day it all started.

We went to your house that day and went to your bedroom as usual. Your parents were out so the music was loud, your window open and I remember just lying on your bed. Times like that were nice; we had no worries and could just talk.

We started talking about sex again and I told you I didn't understand whyI had to be with Max. Not him specifically but why did I have to be with a guy? Was it an unwritten rule or did I actually have a choice? Because if I did I wouldn't want to be.

"So what? You want to stay alone forever?" You chuckled at that, the idea of me being single until I die. Any other time I would've laughed but not then.

"No. I'd rather be with you." I replied. You looked at me with such a shocked face I contemplated whether to start fake laughing and saying I was joking, but that would be lying.

You shook your head. "You don't know what you're saying Britt." But I did. I knew exactly what I wanted and how I felt.

"What's wrong with me liking you?" I sounded like a toddler but I didn't care. You needed to know Santana.

"We're girls. Nothing can happen." You sat up then and turned your back towards me. I felt as if you had smacked me; rejection was the worst. I stood up then and started making my way to the door when you grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

"Why'd you have to say that Brittany? Now you're upset and I feel bad." I didn't want you to feel bad so I just shook my head and smiled. You obviously didn't believe me so I sat down next to you again. It was clearly still bothering you what I said so I decided to do something bold.

"Santana." I called you and the moment you turned your head towards me I leaned in.

That was the first time I kissed you yet it certainly was the last.

After a few seconds you kissed me back and I knew you felt the same. You was just scared.

The next few weeks reminded me of a game. We would go around school, acting normal and still being just as caring towards each other as we usually would. But the moment we were alone it all changed. You use to call it 'getting our sweet lady kisses on' and I loved every moment of it.

I always got sad however, when I saw Max. I would feel guilty about what we were doing and sometimes asked you if you thought we should stop. But you explained how I started this.

"Besides, we're both girls. It isn't cheating." You made it sound so simple so I believed it was simple.

Then one day Max told me that we had been dating for a few months, I didn't even realise as most of my time was spent with you, and that he thought we should take our relationship to the next level. I knew what he meant and went to you in tears. The thought of losing my virginity scared me. Stories of blood and pain from the other girls made me want to keep my legs crossed forever. You had already lost it and I remember you complaining about how it hurt you at first and you didn't even enjoy it.

That was when you done the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me. You said I could lose it to you. So that night we did and I didn't regret a thing about it. The next time I saw Max I went through with it and to this day I still wish I hadn't. He was rough and sweaty, not like you. You were so soft and caring. So gentle. He just made me feel uncomfortable. I soon broke up with him after.

You always made me feel good and so loved. You always knew what to do and how to make me better again. That was when I realised that I loved you. And judging by the way you acted around me, you loved me too.