The rose and the sunflower.
The girl with the golden eyes and the boy with a golden heart.
The girl that believed love was just a fairytale and the boy that believed fairytales are just stories waiting to come true.
'I used to think love was a point...
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an. this is a double update so make sure you read the chapter before this first!!
TW: minor drug use
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As a little a girl, I'm talking around age five, I was always determined to do things for myself. Simple tasks such as brushing my own teeth or combing my own hair. I remember how my parents were somewhat relieved when I started showing interest in being independent because that gave them one less thing to worry about.
Although Lily and I were twins, we could not be more opposite. She was always the child that got pampered whilst I was the one always left alone. Thinking back to how much more attention our parents gave to her it kind of all makes sense now. She did have a condition so I understand that, but every once in a while I still felt like they could've given me even a sliver more of attention.
Maybe that's the whole reason I pushed myself to being so independent. The fact that my parents so clearly showed more interest in my other two siblings than they did to me probably made my young innocent mind think that they didn't want to do those things for me, therefore I had to learn to do them for myself.
Coming to London permanently was the first time I actually saw them show major interest in something I had decided to do. But then again, they were sort of thrown off guard with the whole not going to university thing so that's probably what caught their attention.
It's funny because now that these major events are happening in my life, such as the interview with British Vogue, they aren't even here to see it. They probably don't even know about any of it because they're still playing at this game of not talking to me. Usually when my parents and I get into fights, we don't talk for a couple days and then I'd go and have a conversation with them like nothing happened. This time must be different because it's the first time I'm not physically there to just go speak as though nothing happened, and me and my stubborn ass refuses to pick up the phone to call them.
The thought of moving to Los Angeles all the way in the States, a whole ocean away from London is something I've been thinking about more and more. It's also something I'd like to talk to my parents about because even though I strongly dislike them sometimes, they're still my parents and I still feel a need to gain their approval, especially on major life decisions such as moving to a whole new country.
I've made the decision that if by the new year they haven't called me, I'll suck it up and call them to apologise. For what? I don't know because I didn't do anything wrong. It's not my fault I handle grief in a different way to them but it's fine. If that's what will get them talking to me again, so be it.
