My little sister and brother

There were times when I fought with everyone. I was angry. I was weepy. I was alone. I was in my tantrum-throwing mood.
It was the best time to clear out my cluttered drawer, crush long forgotten to-do lists, and tear to bits secretly written love letters.

So when my crappy mood simmered down. And I no longer wanted to destroy all in my path, I slammed my door shut making all the windowpanes shake (yeah, so, the crappiness can’t disappear in an instant, right?). The fury giving in to tears. I hug my pillow like my life depends on it, and wish to god, I had little sisters and brothers.

I look at myself in the mirror, little salt rivers down my cheeks. I think. For twenty years, I have been spoilt. I have been loved. But, I believed my friends were my sibling substitutes.
The person in the mirror stared back at me. Tear tracks dried. Skin stretched. Incredulous expression. I did have siblings. Annoying ones too.

A sister and a brother. My amma and appa.

I know I’m a pain in the ass. Sometimes. Always.
Some genes, huh?

I love you :D