Sisters: Resentment

My sister is twelve years older than me but I am the accomplished one. She loves me and resents me and I’ve experienced both of her feelings simultaneously throughout the years. I know that her love has its limits, and it will never measure as high as the one she has for both of her daughters, because I am only her sister. Her only sister, the baby, the princes, the selfish one. She resents me for being burden to her because she was forced help to raise me and suppressed her childhood. She resents that I went to college, didn’t have kids early, and live independently on my own. She resents my youth, intelligence, friendships, relationships, and the fact that I take vacations and have cute clothes. In a way age doesn’t matter between us because our position on the sibling scale makes us bound to clash. The older, hardened sister against the younger and softer sister. And I resent her to, for her love of money, selfishness, placing her daughters above all else, being mean to my mother, usurping my mother’s home, buying me one dollar items for Christmas and birthdays, and how she judges me but fails to see my own flaws in her daughters. I resent that she didn’t help me enough when I lived at home, that she fails to visit me, that I don’t miss her, and most of all that she waited two days after I moved out of the room inhabited for 18 years and gave it to her daughters.  She calls me sometimes and I choose not to answer, and I know that when I call her she does the same. When we do talk we, both are bound to judge each other by a mere sentence but pretend to be cordial all the same. She thinks I know it all, I think she doesn’t know enough.


He sat at the edge of the bed, head in his hands as the tears fell and formed a small pool in the carpet. (A short love story ending)

He loved her. He loved her. He loved her…but it wasn’t enough. He sat at the edge of their bed, head in his hands, as the tears fell and formed a small pool in the carpet. Part of him still believed she would be walking through the front door any second, throwing her keys on coffee table as she walked into the kitchen to find him. But she would no longer be coming home, she would never find him…she was gone.

Love Knows Me


I do not claim to know love,

But without a doubt it knows me,

It has studied my habits, my likes, and my weakness for honest brown eyes,

It knows how to make me feel blissful, heavenly, and carefree,

It knows how to conveniently vanish and makes me Jealousy the best company

I can’t control it, it controls me, the Grand Manipulator, schemer, a deceitful and loving


It’s my antidote, my cure, my disease and curse,

But I never reject it…the Friend who is only around for a good time but it is the best time when they are around.

I welcome its unpredictability.

The Gifts Within Us

We all have gifts that we bury within ourselves. Sometimes we do this intentionally, and other times we are blind to see that we have been hiding them beneath our very Soul. I have met many people in my life that overlook these gifts, and never notice they have been carrying them along Life’s journey. I’ve spent years overlooking my own and it wasnt until recently that I asked myself “What comes naturally to me?”. If we think we are a “certain something” or good at “something,” are we really? There is no fact to this, but we can use the affirmations and testimonials the world has given us to try to pinpoint potential prospects. And so I reflected on the things people had said about me: acquaintances, friends, employers, and strangers. Once when I was a teaching assistant at a preschool, a new substitute told me I had a “kind soul,” and that the children loved me. Her words turned my hectic day of running after naughty kids into one where I felt blessed to be able to care for such small and innocent live. And over the years other coworkers, friends and family have used words such as “kind, good listener, ambitious, beautiful soul, nice, creative, intense, strong, positive, aggressive and hippie-ish, and stubborn.” (I have chosen to leave out physical descriptions for the sake of this article and its meaning.)  But, out of all those descriptions, there were several that stood out more than others:”positive.” I never considered myself a positive person, in fact I’ve always felt susceptible to seeing only the negative side of things. It took my years to change the way I felt and thought about situations I wasn’t comfortable with. For example, being around negative people: complainers, gossipers, whiny ones, and excuse makers made me feel drained and irritable to the point where I reacted unlike my TRUE self. And then it dawned on me…I thrived on positiveness and inspiring others to see the potential and good outcomes in life. Instead of saying “but” we can say “if.” It was rewarding to gain the trust of others and listen to their inner struggles. My active listening and giving them the chance unwind  their tangle of problems allowed me to use my gift and gift them one as well: Relief.

Words Can Drown

The Things You Were Not Supposed To Hear

“This is why it hurts the way it hurts.

You have too many words in your head. There are too many ways to describe the way you feel. You will never have the luxury of a dull ache.

You must suffer through the intricacy of feeling too much.”

― pleasefindthis, I Wrote This For You

“Don’t bother trying to describe your emotions with words. Live everything as intensely as you can and keep whatever you felt as a gift. The best way to destroy the bridge between the visible and invisible is by trying to explain your emotions.”

― Paulo Coelho, Brida

View original post