When I was a little girl, I always wanted to be able to play the piano.
My little sister can play the piano. The grand piano. My daddy bought it for her.
When I was a little girl, I wanted a mum who would pick me up on time, before it got dark.
My little sister was never forgotten.
A boy who was my equal and wouldn’t break my heart. My dad under my roof. Safe and stable interactions. Family friends barbecues. A place.
Things she can take for granted, and I don’t understand how this can be so.
Clean floor, a GHD hair straighter. Fitting in. A simple life, simple ambitions. Mainstream values, mainstreams desires.
Sometimes I feel like she honestly hates me, and I just do not understand, how this could be so.
I caught the bus through university. Years later I bought a car, which I then sold to my dad for my little sister.
I’ve heard this is common. Each time, though, it feels like a new slap, a new reminder, something not passing but ever-present.