I would have given my life away for you. You were everything I dreamed of and everything you never were. I am not here to recriminate, not today but I do wonder how come you never loved me then.
I wonder what burdens your hearts carry and how come I never heard you speak of them. My memories of you seem distant maybe like the distance between us. Maybe today we barely speak or even speak at all but I do think about you both.
Brother, I remember the day you built that little house for me, it really meant a lot. You were always so crafty and always so smart. Just a boy with a lot to learn and little love in your life. But then you both decided to leave in the middle of the night, I always wondered if it was my fault at all?
If I was the Chichi of the house how come I barely felt love from you, I battle the protectors inside me to admit that all I ever wanted was a loving family. I wonder do I remember correctly? Do I remember at all? Every part of me would like to tell a different story more days than not I fight to disconnect from myself not to feel the horrors I saw.
In this journey I am, I have left so much out, battling delusions and trying to protect your image. Maybe trying to protect myself from letting you both know how much I hurt. I trusted you both, I followed your steps like any little sister would. I wanted to be just like you the super heroes in my story but it turned out you were more like villains and I was a secondary character. So I just wonder why? If without explanations I was thrown on the sidelines.
I was the puppy that followed you around and you used for convenience, it is painful to know I had to protect from you. So almighty and untouchable, so powerful and out of reach.
This is a day of reckoning not so much for you but for me. I cannot protect your image from the pain I feel. You were executioners and I was the victim.
You are the reason why I barely understand sibling dynamics. Loving families scare me to death and the sound of support sometimes drives me away.
Writing you this letter makes me want to cry but I try not to. You hurt me so much that I sometimes hate the idea of letting myself know you did have that reach. The trust that I put in you both and the sound of it breaking as the years passed.
I don’t trust myself enough and I keep a little critic in me that sounds just like you mocking my every action every day.
Dear Brother, Dear Sister… I am the creator of my story.
Dear Brother, Dear Sister…. This is not about you anymore.
Dear Brother, Dear Sister…
For once, I cannot think only about you.