The smears on a closed door; smudged…crimson—Blood. The thick warm liquid that keeps you alive. My father for as long as I can remember has drilled the idea that blood is thicker than water. That is it what keeps a family close. I believe that over time the blood that once bound us together will degrade into nothing, leaving your veins to rot from the inside out. For it takes effort and the want to live to keep that blood flowing.
I have never been one to dent trust, even when it screams into my face the lies, the pain the hurt. But love has always been a retrained emotion entirely. Love must be earned, it must grow and it must survive on its own. Though it would appear that upon my birth, my blood, my love which flows through me, must endure the burden of all other who are kin to me. To deal with siblings, the ones who know how to hurt you the most. The ones who leave wounds that truly never heal, regardless of the truthful saying that time heals all; it appears in this case it only leads to a bigger mess.
I am sorry mother and father that I could never be the one to stand up and stop the feud. Instead it feels so much better… or so much worse to continue the battles. To fight for the chance at being the victor of your attention, your love, your acceptance. I am not first born…I am not the baby. I am the girl stuck between the two loud boys. The lamb amongst the lions.
Sibling rivalry…A well known theme. Yet all it really does it make you a cold, spiteful person, hating to compete with someone everyday of your life. To be pinned up on a wall next to them. Do you see my faults or my accomplishments? I can no longer tell. I remember a time when all I ever wanted was my big brothers attention. The time of day never seemed to suit him. And now I can see right through his painted mask. Do not act as if you enjoy my presence, you have done nothing for me; you are selfish to the point of vomiting your own lies. But no, here we go again, with a forced smile, pretending everything’s ok. When deep down, we both know we can’t stand each other. Let alone acknowledge the blood binding us. Where will your painted lies be when the blood runs out?
Thank you, dear bother for all the memories. Thanks for not being there when I needed you most, thanks for never being able to stand up for me, Thanks for all the disappointments. Thanks to you I am cold and twisted inside. And yet…Through all the lies I still stand, my arms outstretched towards you. Wishing for that one day your heart may once again pump the blood that so desperately calls for a chance at life. Let us agree to disagree… That blood is indeed thicker than water, but I no longer see the red in your veins.
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