When I dream of you, you’re still alive, but you’re not here. I haven’t seen nor have I heard from you in so long, and I’m confused- dumbfounded, really- as to why. It’s so cold and callous of you to have left me like that. I’ve finally reached you after all these years, and you’re so cool and calm about it. Long lost sister living in a different city. I finally found you, and you don’t so much care.
There were times growing up, later on, when we were older, that I felt like you didn’t like me. I don’t blame you, I guess. I wish I would’ve been nicer and a better role-model instead of being insecure and feeling threatened a lot. But I didn’t know, and neither did you. We were really just kids. During those times- all pubescent- you were secretive and did your own thing. You had your own friends and did your own thing, and being more older and mature (finally), I tried to include you. I wanted so badly for us to be best friends. No, it wasn’t that way when we were little, but I clearly grew out of that before you did. I can’t blame myself though. You were a teenager.
When I can actually remember, I cherish the times we hung out. I remember when we went down to the park in phase six, wearing our big hoodies with our dark hair up. You brought Skye the dog- your dog- with you. It was windy as hell, just like it always was in that town. Around that time it was cool to take pictures on a disposable camera (as if we could afford a digital one anyway), so that’s what we did at that park. I remember we had fun that day. You weren’t withdrawn, and I wasn’t angry or sad. We just had fun. I think I still have that picture of you at the top of the playground, leaning against the fireman’s pole, with a wry smile and your dark doll’s hair framing your face. I snapped the photo from the ground, and so you’re above me.
I don’t know what went wrong. All this time and I still can’t comprehend you being gone. I’m so happy for the good times, but in my dreams the bad is expressed. I always feel abandoned or even disowned and wake up feeling sick. It’s a sick that pervades and permeates every corner of my life. If only you knew what it was like to live this kind of life- one eye open and your head on a swivel. Just in case, you know? I’m anxious a lot and sleep isn’t the same. The worst is the slowness (how things move so fast).
I wish I could tell you what happened. I’d tell you how fucking much I miss you and need you. It’s a hole that hasn’t been filled and can never be. I’ve wrecked relationships and can’t form new ones because everything is tainted now, like how a drop of ink just spreads into a glass of water. But that’s how it is, and I’m trying really hard.
I try to fool myself every second of every day by not thinking about you (or mom or dad- but this is about you this time). It’s sort of like damming back a river- eventually that shit’s going to leak through in some way. The agony that I keep frozen during the day (so that people can tolerate me) comes out at night when I’m too tired and in my dreams. So there you are, cold and uncaring. It doesn’t matter that you haven’t seen my in years as that was your intent. You’re indifferent to my presence while I’m burning inside. What can I do though, but sit and burn, as I’ve been doing. I can’t bring you back, and you can’t see me. I can feel you though, in me, and remember you through my love for you. Sister- with your black doll’s hair and your soft features, your coolness and that knowing sparkle in your eye, your warm energy and rare sensitivity, your you-ness that can’t ever be described fully but only felt by those who knew you- I feel you and I love you, and I carry you with me every single day.
Endogenous Inklings 