August 27th, Year of Silence

The time I spent with my sister in Los Angeles, had a far more negative effect than I could have anticipated. In hindsight, I should have allowed myself to process the emotions seeing her produced, but my reactionary nature frequently defeats emotional maturity. Because of this, in a fit of rage, I told Juliet that our lack of commonalities makes it difficult to maintain a relationship with her, and that I do not wish to challenge our differences any longer.

There is an authenticity to the things I discussed with her, to be sure, but I wondered if I was too harsh. The doubt weighed heavily on me, because there is more to it than I cared to address openly.
My sister is a wife and a mother. She is loyal to her choices, as she should be. But it is those very choices that are foreign concepts to me. I was not made to be wife, and have never desired children. I resent her for becoming unrelatable.

Feeling a deep sense of loss, I have since apologized to her, unsure if I have done it correctly. I know that I love her, and hope my words were able to convey that affection.

It is easy to know what is truly important, when it ceases to be a viable option. The only thing that remains accessible is the present moment, but it never seems to suffice. It cannot correct the past, and it will not pull in the imagined future.

When what or who I care for, is dangerously flawed, my edges grow sharp.

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August 27th, Year of Silence

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