bittersweet

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I don't think I could really make him understand how much he means to me. Saying you're my best friend or my favorite person doesn't feel like enough. I used to think of you like the sun I was revolving around, only existing for you. Like a drug, living only for the moments when I could get high again on you. On your words, just your very presence was enough to pull me out of the darkness for a short time. I distinctly remember one day, when we were both upset about something and I felt so dark, which isn't saying much because I always felt dark during that time, and you asked me to come over and you kept saying "you don't have to" but without saying anything I would've got on my fucking knees and begged if it meant I got to see you, if it meant I got to numb that pain for five fucking minutes. And despite everything I'd get angry, push you away, pretend I hated you. Maybe it was a test, just to see how far I could go before you snapped. Maybe I was just so scared of you knowing the truth, which is that I'd do anything for you. Destroy myself and the whole fucking world if you asked me to. I can't count the times in the last few years that you've pulled me out of the darkness, even recently, a lot of the time without even realizing it. I know I'm not a very good sister. I'm dramatic, attention-seeking, never shut up, never mind my own business, never say the right thing, feel too much but show love way too little. But I love you. I love you and the way I feel is hard to explain. It's sad. But it's not the dark, depression kind of sad. It's the nostalgic, bittersweet kind of sad. The kind that shoves itself to the front of your mind, forcing you to feel it, demanding not to be ignored. It's the kind that reminds you that things are different, that they're different and they'll never be the same again no matter how much you wish they could be. But somehow, part of you knows that that's not a bad thing. Things are different, but you'll be okay. We'll be okay. I know it. I just need some time to be sad first. Someday, it won't hurt this much.

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