Smoking on the balcony

dietintenfisch ©

I could tell from looking at her. I could tell she was falling apart on the inside. She was standing there with a cigarette in her hand and a smile on her face, smiling away the hurt. She had always done it like that. Tony had always smiled away everything; she had that invisible wall around her that protected her. That was the difference between us. When I was hurt, I dived into it. My sister though chose to be invincible on the outside. Even as a child she had avoided showing her emotions whenever possible. She had hidden somewhere, listened to music, taken a walk, always alone. After fighting, we never talked about it; we just pretended it hadn’t happened. We made amends, like we were supposed to; we made amends like we had to. Watching her now through the glass door, having a smoke on the balcony, I had to think of a poem I had once written about her but never shown her.

I love you

I hate you

I need you

I want you

I love you

Those five lines were truer than anything else I had ever written. Sometimes I hated her for all the things she had done to me, but most of the time I adored her.


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