Firsts.

Let’s talk about firsts.

Not the firsts that come to mind when you think about firsts. No, I’m talking about the ones that really matter, the ones adults somehow lose without even noticing, the ones that no one else will know about.

I remember my first hiding spots, my own little secret kingdoms where my mind came to life and shaped itself into the hoarders chaos that it is now. I remember the warm sun shining through the living room windows and how the flowers would block the glass. I remember my bed under one of the windows, facing my best friends house and the birds that would nest under the roof every year. And right there, right in that little space near my bed was my first hiding spot. Behind the flower pots, in that little corner where my bed was.

I remember the exact spot where I found my first best friend, the first game we played and the first secrets we shared. I remember the first time my brother stood up for me and the first time I stepped on a bee (wouldn’t suggest that one!).

I remember the first flower I ever planted and how upset I was when my dog ate it! (to this day the same type of flowers are planted in that exact spot) I remember the first time I stayed up late to watch a horror movie with my brother and how I had to watch it from my mum’s bed because I was safe and warm there. I remember the first book I was obsessed over and the first book that made me cry.

All these firsts and many more seem so long ago but I can still feel them and the warmth they bring to my hollow heart, all these firsts are mine and they are unique to me. Those are the firsts that I will always carry with me and in times of need look back upon to remind myself of the events that shaped me.

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