Dear ...,
I don't know if you'll ever come to see this, or if I'll ever show you. I really don't know. We've become experts in running away from our problems that I've come to the conclusion that maybe you never will. And I'd like to believe that that's okay.
We're at a point that our relationship has never been better. It's fragile yet strong, but I don't think any of us would ever risk it.
But what is a relationship without honesty? What is a relationship if the only thing we talk about aren't the ones that ever really matter?
It's hard for me to speak up and you know that. Maybe that's why I always resort to writing. It's easier to put things into words on a piece of paper, than coming face to face to the root of the problem.
So maybe I am a coward. Because even after all this time I can't face you and talk to you about this matter.
I'm not an emotional person, atleast in everyone else's eyes. But I would like you to know that I'm Fragile. As fragile as glass. And when you look at me, I think you see that. You see me as clear as crystal. With cracks to go on about.
Maybe that's why for a long period of time you couldn't really look me In the eye. Because little by little you saw that I wasn't the same baby sister that you left each semester to go to college.
I wasn't the same because each time you'd come back, my smile was less wider and my eyes were less brighter. Happy had just become another 5 lettered word in my vocabulary.
Maybe you noticed the change in me, or maybe you didn't. That's a secret only you would know and one that I would never ask.
We were so close, and you were my best friend. I used to look at you and aspire to be you. Because in my young version self's eyes you were my hero.
But I think you were just too blind to see that.
You were too blind to see that what you were doing was selfish. It didn't hurt you but it also hurt the rest of us badly.
We were the collateral damage in your selfish spiral.
You didn't see that you were the rock that was holding us together. And when you crumbled so did we.
But what hurt the most was that you didn't see that you were hurting yourself. And when you were hurting yourself you hurt me.
YOU ARE READING
What Was Never Said
Short StoryThis is not a love story. It's a story about love. It's a story of how loving someone can hurt, and that love can seem like another sugarcoated word for pain. It's a story about addiction. Of a girl who slowly watched as her brother lost himself and...