Siblings & The Meaning Of Family

A little perspective.

A Teen Life Style

We either have siblings or we don’t, frankly I use to think the latter was luckier than I. To not have siblings would have been a dream come true. Quiet nights full of reading and writing, no late evening yelling matches, or having someone find out a secret from another’s mouth. On days like these, after getting done with a yelling match I long for a time where I could be the only child. I’d like to believe everyone with siblings have felt the same way before. Though as much as I hate them, I don’t know where I would be with out them.

Growing up, My sisters and I would always say, “I hate you.” Now a days it is a term of endearment but back then we meant it. My mother would then throw a fit and say the same lines of, “You can’t hate each other, you’re…

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There’s something about the way she looks at me that has me going weak at the knees and heartbroken at the same time.

She’s so beautiful, it hurts. 

What hurts more is how painfully oblivious she is to the very fact. And how nothing I ever do can convince her otherwise.

Actually, that’s not true. I think what hurts the most is how she wants, no, needs me, but I don’t know how to help her. She’s withering away before my very eyes; receding, disappearing within herself, and it wrenches my heart to watch her so hopelessly lost. 

I can see it in her eyes.

She’s lost all hope, even the optimism she was known to hold on to every time things went awry. All of it, gone. I don’t know what to do. It’s been a while since she’s been this way, but lately she’s been declining at a rapid pace. 

I fear I will lose her.

We made love the other day. At least, I think we did. She had a faraway look on her face. It seemed different. She acted different, felt different. We were different. Something didn’t quite feel right. 

But of course it didn’t feel right, you blithering fool.

You lost her the day she was diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. Terminal. No hope for a cure. How could you believe her when she said nothing would change? 

She was going to die. Of course everything was going to change.

And as the doctor walked towards me with what had to be the most melancholic of expressions I’d ever seen on any doctor, I feared it already had.


Started a little after 4:50 am, I should think. Been having trouble sleeping. Nausea and pain is… not exactly my thing, even after almost two years of living with it now. 

I’ve got a question for those who may dare to venture an answer:

What is worse; embodying the person people expect you to be, or failing everyone’s expectations for you? 

Love, Sky.


She was lost in thought, that much he could tell. He could almost feel the cogs in her brain turning and moving back and forth, at an almost manic sort of pace. 

She looked as if she was faraway. 

She might as well have been, because he didn’t know what it was she was thinking about. Before, he might’ve thought that she was wondering about what to do about her assignment’s deadline at the job, or how to care for their dog now that they were moving to a place that didn’t allow pets, or maybe even what to make for dinner that night.

But the truth was that he knew better than that. 

Or maybe that just went on to say just how less he actually knew her, but truth be told, she wasn’t an easy person to know. Actually, she was the most difficult and complicated person he had ever stumbled across in his relatively short and inconsequential life. 

He loved her, and she knew that. On some level, she probably reciprocated his feelings. But she was such a difficult book to read, and every time he tried to, he felt like he was trying to decode an otherworldly language of which he knew nothing about.

She finally took notice of him, just him; standing with his back to the wall, eyebrows scrunched together, a gentle worriness in his eyes. His mouth was slightly turned downwards, as if he was thinking of things to say but had nothing to start with. 

Worrying never looked good on him, she knew that since the day she met him. The way his face lit up when he was happy, or something close to it, was something she could see every waking moment of every day for the rest of her days and not get tired of.

He was the best thing that had happened to her, and she knew she didn’t deserve him. He didn’t deserve what she had to offer; no, he was so pure, so innocent, so good.

She was nothing but the inevitable darkness that would one day swallow him up and spit him out, to be forever changed and irreparable. 

How could she put him through that?


I wanted this to have a more definite train of thought than the amorphous shit I typed, but I just needed to write. God, it’s been so fucking long since I wrote something. 




You would like to believe that they are black and white, but they are not; not really. 

You find some pinks, some yellows, some blues, some greens – people are never just black and or white. They are a myriad of the dazzling colors of the rainbow – vibgyor, roygbiv. Or perhaps a toned down grey, amongst the more dreary end of the spectrum–but never just black and white.

They are puzzles, riddles; waiting to be solved. Waiting to be unmystified. Waiting to be understood. Waiting to be dexterously thumbed through by your gentle hands, trembling as they handle the pages of your intricacies with surprising delicacy. 

Or not. They are also perfectly content with being the fifty thousand pieces three dimensional puzzle of the continent of Westeros which always sits on the shelf, never to be bought.

People are complex. And they are beautiful. And maybe this is romanticising the human species, glorifying them beyond what they truly deserve. 

But I cannot help it, because if I fail, if I don’t do this, I could never even get close to doing justice to the amazingly beautiful human being that you are. 

And that, is an injustice in itself. 


Since I hadn’t posted in a while, and as WordPress kept telling me I had unpublished drafts, I decided to edit and publish this one. I don’t remember when or why I wrote this. I do like this for some reason, so I’m making do with it. 


Sky xoxo.