Life is bigger than us. Life is bigger than petty quarrels and stubborn arrogance. Life is bigger than always needing to be right. Why can’t you see that?
I was you’re first girl and you always liked to remind me. I was there when shit went down and I was the one who listened to tapes of love-struck REM. I was the one that accepted her and loved her and the one who always travelled, went out of my way, filled with excitement to spend time with you and your home.

We used to do everything together. For those moments that we saw each other, you would tell me how much you missed me, crack your lame jokes, tell me stories. You would take me out and we would find things to do. We would stay up late watching your favourite movies that I always loved, or wait up late to that odd hour when stargate or battlestar galactica would be showing. We would fall asleep on the couch at that late hour and I’d wake up with a start to your loud snoring.

You would excitedly show off your new purchases, and fill me in with your surprises for your loved ones. You would tell me everything about your new hobbies and lecture me on your observations of those around us. I enjoyed my time, and you made it special.

Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you see what it was? You’re so caught up in your own pride and your own stubbornness, your constant need to be right, that you’ve pushed all that aside. You can’t bear to think that anyone would grow up and have their own thoughts and their own opinions, that they could think for themselves. According to you, I have a personal vendetta against you, that I always need to doubt you and prove you wrong. I would only suggest that you look in the mirror.
You now constantly state unnecessary comments about how much I hate you, that I’ll get over it when I get over being a teenager. These comments leave me dumbfounded. Can you not see the stupidity in your words?

I have constantly taken my time, my effort, to see you, spend time with you and make this work. I have accepted everything and I have never argued. I have been taken for granted, and treated to a lesser extent as the years go on, but yet, I still kept coming back to you. I could see you drifting away from me, and you losing your effort as the years rolled by and I grew older. But I never listened to the voices of your enemies, whispering in my ear and trying to influence my decisions. I stuck true to you. I was convinced that you were genuine and that it was going to work. That you wanted it to work.
And now you tell me you miss me with a spiteful tone in your voice. Your words hiss with accusations that I’m no longer around and that I have a dislike for you. You never really want to hear my side of the story as your are smothered in your own self-righteousness. Your words are constantly harsh and spiteful, but they’re subtle.
We’ve grown apart to the greatest extent, and according to you, it’s my fault.

It’s been four months since I’ve spoken to you. The last time I had to put down the phone, because I couldn’t deal with your antics on my day of celebration.
I know your lies that you fed me, and I’ve heard the truth in the actions that you kept from me. Blood is thick, and there are others who have realised that life is bigger than this. I know your terrible truths, and I really cannot stand you at the moment, because I cannot deal with the way you’ve cast it all aside and the way your self-righteousness has consumed you (maybe it always has, and i’m only just old enough to realise it, who knows).

But despite this, I want it back. I don’t want you and your pride-consumed self, I want what we were. I want the you that I knew back then. I want you to put in the effort and care once in a while. Care that your first girl is out there and living, to take an interest every once in a while. I miss the days of simplicity, and I miss having you there.
I hate you, and at the moment, I can’t stand you. But I want you.
I want to continue those things we did together, I want to relive the days when you went to the effort to spend time with me, when you didn’t unload your spite on me.
(Is it because we are also her children? I don’t know.)
I want to be able to laugh and joke with you without feeling uncomfortable.
I want to be able to say that there is something that I do with you, something that I can share with others about our times and be proud of.
When will you understand? When will you get over it?

Because I miss it. And as much as it pains me, as much as you pain me, I miss you.

My head feels like it is going to explode.

Fearless on my breath.

apera ad astra.

All I have to say is, really?

life, this is to you.