My friends are all made of stars
ASHLEY
I met Ashley when I was 13. She was cool. I wasn’t. She did things like smoke in the toilets, smoke at the train station and smoke at parties on the weekend. It was almost insane how much she smoked. She had long, glossy hair and eyebrows with their own personality. Her school uniform was always shorter than mine. Actually, that was the weirdest thing, because I was at least a foot taller.
I can’t remember the exact moment, because the exact moment doesn’t matter, but something happened and we were friends forever. We soon came to be fondly known as “lank and midge,” which isn’t anywhere near as endearing as once presumed now that I think about it. We made each other laugh, and we kissed anyone who would have us. When no-one would have us, we just kissed each other. When I thought my vagina was weird she felt it at a party in a toilet and told me that the little soft bead was my clitoris and that I shouldn’t worry. That it was totally a good thing. When I was the right age, I lost my virginity to someone while Ashley slept beside me where she had passed out in a drunken coma the night before. On my 21st birthday, she told me she wasn’t passed out at all.
What I like most about Ashley is that she is always the one who makes the most truthful observations in rooms so often full of bullshit. It’s this almost innocence that I’ll love forever.
Like all good friendships, we’ve lost each other briefly, and always found our way back. We share secrets and I will carry her always, just like she carried my handbag when I felt like I couldn’t throw shapes properly because it was limiting my movement.