Sister

I had an odd dream about my sister last night.
This dream stirs up emotions I've locked away long ago for the mere fact that there was absolutely nothing I could do to make them leave. These emotions have come back, as they do whenever thoughts of her are pulled out from the darkest recesses of my mind. I miss her, and I'm mad at her, and it's hard to remember her.
It's been over six and a half years since I've seen her. I dont even know if she's alive or not.

Sometimes I think about how my life would have been if she wouldnt have left. Would I have spent time with her? Would she have influenced me to be a different person? Would I be more rebellious? But then I think of the past six and a half years that wouldnt have happened the way it did if she hadnt left. I used to be so mad at her for doing it, and the only way to get me to calm down was to think about all the people I met because of it happening. I wouldnt have moved to the houses I did. Wouldnt have had the expiriences I had. This would be so different.

So another question arises; was it for the best that she did what she did? Was she trying to get away, like I'd like to? Would things have been worse at this point if she hadnt left?
There's so much that I dont know. And I wont know. And that drives me crazy.

I think about what would happen if she came back. Tonight, tomorrow, in a week. What would happen? Would she live here with us? Would she want Hanna back? Would things get messy? Would I have a new companion? Would she even like who I've become? Does she even remember me? Does she remember watching Independence Day in the dark, with me leaning on her pregnant tummy? Does she remember walking to Fairway with me, while I was carrying Hanna in the backpack thing? What about the week I spent with her in the apartment? How I felt so disconnected from the world I lived in every day? Does she know it was because of her that I started cutting my own toe nails? Does she even remember me at all?
Still more questions I cant answer and may never be answered.

I remember all of it. And I remember more. Her rose tattoo on her hand. The devil on her chest. I wanted to be just like her. She was beautiful. I looked foreward to the days when I'd be considered an equal.
And I am just like her. I'm tiny. Though I look like my brother. I feel I have her spirit. And yet I'm told I'm just like my brother. Perhaps I'm both of them.


The simple truth is : I miss her.