I’ve been thinking too much about you, and how I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t like to hear Don’t Push by Sublime and hurry to skip the track because that’s our song. And I don’t wanna hear it. I don’t like thinking about painting your fingernails and watching documentaries. I don’t like remembering the water gun fight we had in the apartment, and how we soaked that place something terrible. I don’t like missing sitting around on that beat to shit green couch for hours and hours watching The Simpson’s. Or shoving any sort of trash down the back of the couch together, on top of spilling anything we had in front of it. We ruined that couch Allison.

 

 

 

I’m sorry that when you were little I used to leave you behind, or scare you unnecessarily.  I was a bad big sister for the better half of your life, I didn’t understand nor sympathize with you sadness, I was ashamed and confused by it. I’m sorry I was a strung out piece of shit when you looked up to me the most. I can’t imagine what was going through your head seeing me like that, so many days a week. Jesus, I feel guilty.

 

 

 

I can’t believe how angry I allowed myself to get at you and your mom. How bitter and foul I am to this day about the situation, it’s not right. I hate being too proud, it comes with the sign I guess. Maybe that’s why we butt heads so bad being 2185 days apart, same sign same week same person. Me being 5 years and 51 weeks older… Damn I hate feeling this way. I’m torn I really am between loving my little sister and loving myself, tricky business.

 

 

 

I’m sorry I beat the shit outta you and Goose the day you stole my black fingernail polish, and wiped your ass all over the window of my car. I should have laughed with you not punched you.  I miss being your big sister, I miss being your best friend, I miss jokes that nobody else dare understand, watching you eat 12435 bags of popcorn and smoking cigarettes in my old car. I miss you Ali.