Yes, oh-so-knowing sister. Let's make me the villain of this situation. Let's make me feel like you don't care about me as a person, rather than the cause of your problems. It's okay though, because I already know you don't care. I know you blame me for our father not having enough money for your dresses. I know it's my fault you had to take time to visit me when I was in foster care.
I know you aren't scared to tell on me for smoking. I know you'd be more than happy to. But why? You want me to be just like you want me to. Why? I've never heard a word of affection, any actions proving you care about me unless I have something you want. I've never heard you say "Brenda, I love you," unless I'm up and walking towards the kitchen. I've never heard you say, "Hey, little sister! Have I ever told you how much it means to me that you came back to this hellhole just to be closer to me? No, Brenda, I wasn't aware that you chose to hold your tongue for the family's sake."
I know you'll snitch, too. But I don't care anymore. Anything will be better than living in a prison.
Let's unlock the sound-proof rooms the Voices are kept in and let them run free. Their insults won't hurt at all. I can handle it. The memories they project onto the walls of my closed-off heart don't exist. I can block them from making me want another smoke, more cuts.
Who cares if I'm already addicted to both cutting and my cigarettes? It's my fault; I brought this upon myself.
Your vanity is not longer cute, funny. It hurts. More than cutting, more than the bullying I deal with daily.Your constant reminders of who's the prettiest sister, who has the richest boyfriend, and who has the most guys following them, makes me feel fat. Ugly. Monstrous. Insecure. Self-conscious. As if I'm not pretty enough. So eat less and less and less. But it doesn't matter, does it? You're still the beautiful princess and I'm still the ugly step-sister. No, make that the ogre.
Why can't we just switch roles? How about I be you and you be me, just for a day. An hour, if that's all you want. I just want to feel what you feel. Feel as beautiful as you do. I just want to experience what makes you so confident and attractive. Maybe, if we switch, you'll be able to understand why I do what I do. If I could compact all my painful experiences into five minutes, maybe you'd understand why I cut, smoke, do drugs, everything. You might be able to see why I cry silently, rather than obnoxiously, like you do.
Why do you hate me? I messed up, everyone does. So what? I don't hate you for never being there, being a hypocrite. I never judged you for lying, stealing, cutting.
\Never have; never will.
Let's unlock the sound-proof rooms the Voices are kept in and let them run free. Their insults won't hurt at all. I can handle it. The memories they project onto the walls of my closed-off heart don't exist.
ReplyDeleteYou have a very poetic way of expressing yourself. You are a very beautiful girl from the picture on your post. I am still trying to learn this medium, and can't download a picture of myself.
I have been reading Isaiah. There are so many verses about how God calls us by name. I hope that you will hear Him calling you, Brenna, by name and hear how much He loves you. You have a lot to offer. I hope you realize this gift. I haven't heard from you. I hope I didn't hurt your feelings by not knowing about the authors and books you mentioned. (this is jcrocks) I will try to read more of your comments. Bless your heart--you have been through so much. Please know that I care for you.