I don't remember the first words we spoke to each other, but I’d like to think that at age five we were lovely and bonded over a box of crayons rather than cutting off chunks of each other’s hair.
At age nineteen I sit here with a joy in my heart so forceful that I could probably (definitely) cry. She’s worked her way into every single crack of my life, embedding her name into most of my passwords, fourteen to be my lucky number, and my long-time daydream being fleeing the country with her.
We’ve danced until early in the morning in different cities to bands we love and fallen asleep in a still drunken haze next to each other, midway through a serious discussion of what the fuck that noise is in the lounge room and how far away is Lilydale? Each day I fall madly in love with this ever-growing friendship.
This is a lifelong thing. This is the stuff that people make movies about and everyone cries because one of them gets cancer and the other one offers to chop off a limb to help her live (get cancer and you’re cut) and they live happily ever after consuming lots of peppermint tea and raw chocolate. If there were to be a musical component, I’d suggest the Hilary and Haylie Duff rendition of ‘Our Lips Are Sealed’, which Alannah and I learnt and choreographed in one afternoon.
We never got mistaken for sisters, regardless of how hard I wished to get the news that we were separated at birth. But seeing Alannah’s bright smile at 7.30 in the morning before an eight-hour day at uni, or hearing her endless giggles over the phone while asking if I’ve got icing sugar- it’s impossible to believe that this isn’t family.
Relationship articles will always tell you how important it is for you and your partner to grow separately. It’s funny how these years have shaped the two of us as individuals, yet time makes us slot into each other even easier than the year before. It all matches up. We match up. Our school and work timetables, right down to our sleeping patterns all match up like a jigsaw puzzle.
So here’s my conclusion- we’re soul mates. It’s fate. Meant to be. And also that maybe relationship columns can relate to friends, too.