Now Your Just A Stranger

I'm sorry.

We were sisters, once. Long before our Mother decided that we were blocks of clay just waiting to be molded into the shape that she preferred.

I'm sorry.

We knew each other, could look at our reflection when we made eye-contact. Long before our images began to distort and we no longer recognized ourselves, let alone each other.

I'm sorry.

We thought the world was ours for the taking, not realizing that it was us against it. That people were cruel. We learned our lesson the hard way.

I'm sorry.

That you had to pick up the numerous roles that were absent because our Mother didn't want the responsibility. That you had to be everything for the both of us for five days out of the week and then some.

I'm sorry.

That I let our Mothers favoritism push us apart, that I let her spark the flickering flame of hate that steadily grew into a roaring inferno with every report card.

I'm sorry.

For letting the white-hot burn of loathing swallow me up and turn words into fists against your skin. For trying to convince you that you were the one to blame for my suffering.

I'm sorry.

For taking parts of you and slotting them into myself without permission, as if copying you could somehow change the face that I saw in the mirror.

I'm sorry.

For making you believe that the things you felt weren't valid. For being so lost in my own pain that I couldn't be bothered to see yours.

I'm sorry.

I never meant for it to be this way. For us to let our Mother's twisted love rip a gaping chasm between us. That when we looked at one another from across that dark abyss, we decided that we weren't worth the effort of mending ourselves.

I'm sorry.

I never meant to become a stranger.