It has been six months since I started university, and I have no friends. I don't just mean no-one that I'm really close to. I don't mean people who I can hang out with but aren't reliable enough to be good friends. I don't mean I at least have someone I can meet occasionally for a drink or two when I need to get out the house. I have no-one.

Well, that's completely untrue. I have someone. And she means the world to me. Despite everything we have been through she loves me more than anyone else ever could. She wipes away my tears when I come home after a shitty day of placement. She runs me a bath and pours me a glass of wine and kisses my forehead when I get home and am too tired to look after myself. She's my rock.

Every morning I am grateful to wake up with her soft skin touching mine, the feeling of stroking her blonde hair off her shoulder so I can wake her up by kissing her neck. The tingles I feel when she turns towards me and looks at me the way she does, knowing she wants to start the day the same way I do.

Stroking her warm, wet... Anyway.

I just wish she wasn't so delicate. It feels so disloyal and awful to say. She has done so much for me. The only thing she wants is for us to spend time together. I have never been so wanted in my life. She tells me she happily moved away from home to live with me; she wouldn't miss any of her old friends because I am all she needs. And I want to feel the same. And sometimes I do. But other times, when it's the middle of the night and I step outside for "fresh air" (I promised her I'd quit but I still have the occasional cigarette) I think of the old times with a heavy wave of nostalgia, and wonder why they had to change.

I know she thinks I shouldn't miss them too. But of course I do. Even Effy. Even Katie, very occasionally. But we left for a new start, I know that.

She is my best friend. But she's also my only one.

Just sometimes I feel like it would be nice to get to know people on my course, maybe even to go out for a few drinks. I just don't want to make her feel inadequate, especially after what she's been through in the past. I never want to make her feel like she's second best. I need her to know that she is my other half, that she completes me. Because she does.

But I need her to know that she makes me want to kill myself.

Later that night

"What? You're going out tonight?"

My throat tightened. My palms were already becoming damp as I tried to keep my hands still; fighting the subtle tremor that had invaded my body. I knew what was coming, but I was going to stand my ground.

I force a smile in an attempt to calm my flushed face. I swallow. And again, while playing with my hair. Before quickly dropping my hands back by my sides. I don't want her to feel like she's making me nervous, I know it upsets her.

"Yes, remember I told you?" I'm speaking too fast; my voice is strangled, unnatural.

I'm fooling no-one in this act of being oblivious to her anger, least of all myself.

I can't look into her eyes. Those soft, gentle eyes that crease when she smiles. I can already tell that they've darkened. I can feel her look at me in disappointment and resentment.

She doesn't reply, and makes her way into our bedroom, walking slowly, heavily. The door shuts firmly behind her.

I allow myself to sit down, and with a heavy sigh, I let my silent tears flow.

I'm not crying because I might end up missing out on a boring night of getting pissed around a bunch of people I hardly know, spending all my money to drink enough to convince myself I fit in then coming home and spending the next day with my head in the toilet. No way.

I'm crying because this is my chance to finally get to know people here. And chances like these only happen once. I'm crying because I realise I have a clear choice – Naomi and no-one else, or an actual life… without her.

Have I ever really had any other option, or has it always been this way?