Who Are You?

I don’t even know what this means. I’m just missing someone quite terribly. And just in case anyone’s wondering, no, nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all is wrong. Missing a person is not a bad thing!

If you think me loser, or winner I still wouldn’t change my opinion about you. Not if my life depended on it, because I’ve seen you and I know you. Nothing you say is gonna change the way I think about you – you will still be the girl two years older than me, stealing my rubber slipper because they had cooler pictures than yours. You will always be the one who loved playing hide-and-seek because you were so much better at it than I ever would be, and because you were less afraid of the secret passages in your house than I was. You might look at me now and pretend to see right through me, but to me, that doesn’t add up to who you are… what you told you were when you were ten is what I remember. What’s the difference between eighteen and ten? You’re still two years older than me, still taller than me, still dressed up in your favorite colours. Somewhere there, somewhere deep inside… I know I see the person I’m speaking to right now – the one who likes the pink ribbons and elegant dresses, the one who loved her brother selfishly. Why do these tears hurt me so much? Why do you look at me like I don’t even exist anymore? Why are my “hello’s” unnoticed and why on Earth am I invisible to you? Why does it hurt every single time I think about you? Why do I cry every time I think about how we rolled down the bed and laughed our heads off? Do you even see me, or are you pretending? Either way, it’s clear that the only thing you want to see is to see me hurt. Why? What did I ever do for you to treat me this way? I haven’t been accepting a goodbye for all this time but maybe it’s time I really face reality and understand that you really don’t care about me. Maybe when you turn away, you don’t want me to watch you leave. Maybe the person I’m speaking to is not living anymore – she must have left you, she must be dead and that’s probably why you don’t realize anything I’m thinking of. When I reach out, would you return? Would you turn away again? Who’s living there? Is it you, or is it the girl I used to know? I’m confused and to provide me with an answer, I require your assistance.


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