Bohemian Delilah

I don’t miss you. Really.

I miss the way you knew me so well through times which were hard like these. I miss the way we’d laugh at dinner, and you’d let me pretend that this was not the same life we’ve been living since the day you were born. I miss how together we knew everything, but, apart, we knew nothing. I’m sorry I labelled an entry, “I hate my sister, she’s such a bitch” after that song title which meant so much to me, but now seems rather vindictive, what with all the comments about evil siblings it keeps getting. I don’t hate you, I just don’t know you anymore.

I wish our relationship hadn’t been torn and bruised the way it was, though I never saw who it was that beat it so hard. It didn’t deserve it. It wasn’t its fault. The poor thing never had much of a chance, once we stopped the coddling and attention. Someone got ahold of it and didn’t let go. I keep hoping that it isn’t lying somewhere painfully breathing it’s last breaths under the name of Jane Doe, while we force ourselves to settle for this… something less… this placebo to convince ourselves we’re still sisters, we still have some connection.

I hate that every girlfriend I’ve ever had leaves me in the same painful way. Because I all want them to have the same relationship with me as I had with you. I want us to cling to each other with our claws and fangs, because no one else could ever comprehend us in that way. I don’t REALLY want them to forgive me for everything I put them through, the way I know YOU, in the end, must.