Running Out Of Hope

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No one really understands. Not until you've been there. And the feeling comes back. Feeling second-best, unwanted, unloved. So far has it gone that I've disconnected myself from my past, severed my life so that only the bearable half remains. But with my life, it may not even be half.
Everyone's always expected so much of me, because my older sibling's perfect. But I'm not. I'm not her...I can only be me. But me is never good enough for anyone else. So I ran. Far away from everything and everyone who made me feel this way. I left it all behind.
Right now, you're probably thinking: this girl's just upset. She'd be crazy to think that anyone could hate her. You're wrong. They do hate me. I know it. I saw it in their eyes. As tears filled mine. You see, that's why I did it this time. Their words still echo in my ears.
"I don't know what's wrong with you," one teacher said to me after I failed a test, "maybe next time you should ask your sister to help you study." Yes. Once again, the comparison. She's so perfect; she's so smart. And I'm just the younger sister who can never compare. Right. Maybe I won't.
"Oh, right. You're so-and-so's sister." Okay. I don't have a name? Try again. Think this time. But you don't know it, do you? I didn't think so.
That's why I'm here, sitting on a park bench advertising some realtor. They look happy. Of course they would. They have a home. And a family...without playing favorites.
"It's your sister's birthday." No. It's not. It's mine. But you think it's hers. When it's hers and when it's mine. I guess I don't have a birthday anymore either. Fine, I can deal with this, too.
Now I think you get it. My life's a mess. And I am dealing with so much I can barely handle but no one else sees. The bus stops. And this is where I ask myself the most important question I could ask. Will I really leave? After all, I should. No one cares. All they care about is her. Her perfect grades, her perfect hair, her perfect life. And I realize I've grown to resent her. And I also realize that I don't even know her.
I've been fighting a battle I was never meant to fight. It wasn't her fault. I let everyone compare us; I let them think I had no identity of my own. I didn't fight back. But I fought too much. The door closes, and the bus leaves. It starts to rain, and in the dark I look around. No one's here. This desolate location feels no sympathy for me. Then I realize I have somewhere to be.
I have an identity. I've found myself. I have so much that I have to prove. Why had I given up? Why had I let myself come to this? I look up at the sky and whisper my thanks for this bit of insight. I've always had a destiny. I just hadn't known it yet.
So it happened that I returned to my home. They were so happy to see me. I was surprised. And I finally sat down with my sister. We needed to know each other. To understand each other. To befriend each other.
And once we were friends, we became as close as twins, thinking the same thoughts. I had been missing out on so much. Other people will never see me the way I now see myself. They'll still talk. They'll still compare us. But I'll never compare myself to her anymore. Because I know who I am. Because I know who gave me my destiny.





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