Breakable Bonds.

I've written about her before. This different kind of relationship, simply because the blood running through our veins. The seemingly unbreakable bond of actual sisterhood.

Ya know, I do think of times. I think of times when I was happy to be with her. So very proud to call her my big sister. Holding my head up and holding her hand while feeling on top of the world. Her writing me a letter for every day of camp my first year, because only she knew how to make me laugh the hardest when I was feeling homesick. Roller blading at Andrews Park before dark and skipping stones on imaginary bodies of water. Literally wrapped in her arms when he would try and hurt me again with more than just words. She was everything I needed, and I was her little sister.

Now she's got everyone fooled. I yearn for that closeness we used to have, so in tiny ways I let her manipulate me. I let her do things that my strong willed nature wouldn't allow me with anyone else. A person who's willing to call the cops on me instead of for me. A person who calls me crazy and turns my grandparents against me.

When I was at Josie's funeral the other day her sister got up there and spoke. Few tears escaped her because she mostly smiled. They were best friends...they saw so much good in each other and they brought out the best in each other. I knew that from the moment she began talking...and it got me thinking. I don't know my big sister. If something were to happen to her...I wouldn't know what to say about her..."yeah one time she tried to jump out of the car and tried to call the cops on me"...oh and "remember the time she said she hated me and didn't talk to me for 2 months?!"...the fondest memories are vague...and they are from years ago.

And what if I died? My family doesn't really know me. My grandparents only allow themselves to know Samantha's image of me. They are good caring people, but they are blind. They are blind to the point that it's just sickening. They just think I'm awful. And anyone could protest and say "they love you" but that's not my statement here. I know they love me. I know that, I know that they always will. But the thing that makes me hurt. The thing that spins around in my insomniatic brain is how they'll always love her more. Yeah, I'm selfish. I should take the love I'm given and let it fester in my soul. I should let it captivate me and relish in the thought of how blessed I am to have even a drop. But let's be honest, I am selfish. I want to be loved fully and I want them to love my spirit, too. My soul. Not just because they have to-but because they like being around me. Because I can light up a room somehow and make a joke in a sad moment to just see even a grin. But that isn't me. That will never be me to them and I can try as hard as I like but my guts will just churn and my head will just hurt. I am grateful that I am loved. But the way that my anatomy is set up...the way that my spirit works...I'd almost rather be hated by them. Atleast I would know that it was a real emotion. Atleast I'd know the truth beyond the blood.

I have to take my glasses off so the water can escape. I guess feeling deep sorrow is better than feeling nothing at all. I prayed for a challenge but I didn't pray for my friend to die. I didn't pray for my nightmares to come back, and I certainly didn't pray for my other's friends possible death. I prayed for sustainable life. For a life worth living, and working towards to get better. But all I want to do now is hang out with the wrong people who bring me down, so they can offer me something that will lift me back up.