not much just a bunch of letters-unopened.
You have no idea what goes on in her mind, come to it neither do I. But I know she feels alone in this world-the guy she loves, so close yet so far. She hurts and no one can help. Not even me and I'm her sister! Her twin! She won't talk to me, but she knows I'll listen.
Yet, YOU the so called 'populars' see the scars that only paint a a corner of the canvas of sadness. You gossip about it, laugh at it. You may call her an emo, a sad person who is pathetic for doing it. Go on, I've done it. But I realised that it hasn't gone and she needs help. Help that I can't give-not one of her friends can give her.
So go on your way, mention the scars and spread the rumour but you're not there when she decides it's all too much and can't take it. You're not there when she breaks down. You're not there when she is confronted by the parents and her voice sounds like a caged animal screaming for freedom and you're defenceless.
Because no matter what, she's my sister and I'm living through her nightmare to. Just on the outside. So next time you look and stare. Then nudge your friend and say "did you see her wrist" think about why it's there. What the numourous voices tell her-she's fat, worthless and no one will like her.
She's depressed and yes, I moan. I'm no saint but you don't understand. Just think, the gossip you spread may hurt her more. She's a fragile, china bird that has been broken, but soon she will blossom to full and colourful bird with the happy spirit I have only caught glimpses off.
Think, She could be you.