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2:05 p.m. - 08/02/02
last night I just kept saying - I won't let her make me cry.
upon reading something I wish I hadn't

I'm so so so sorry. I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have done this. I'm bad. I'm so bad and I'm so sorry, and I didn't mean it that way - and what right do you have to - I'm sorry. just don't be mad at me and don't say those things to them. don't make me your story; don't take my words away. don't say I hurt you as badly as this says. I didn't mean it that way, and you have the facts wrong and that's not how it was, and why did you want me to read this, were you trying to hurt me? and what do you think you're doing saying that is how it was? I was trying to survive, damnit! I was trying to survive, and I never meant to hurt you, and it hurts me so much that I did, and I'm crying and my stomach hurts and my stomach always hurt, and you yelled at me last night and sometimes you really are mean now, sometimes you really are mean. and I know you have a right to be angry, and I know you need to yell as much as I did, but it doesn't have to be at me, and it isn't fair that you keep doing this. my story isn't yours. don't tell them that about me. I didn't do it that way. I was trying to live; I'm still trying to live. why can't you all just keep your own lives safe and leave mine alone? I don't want to be your problem; I don't want to be alone.

*

upon reading this:

Sisters, sisters� There were never such devoted sisters. Never had to have a chaperone, no sir. I�m here to keep my eye on her.

�Cause more than once when I was little someone should have been watching �

(The lights go to black. She drops and pulls a blanket over her head. The following is whispered in the dark.)

Wait. Wait. What. I don�t think we should do this anymore. I just don�t. That�s it. Ok. Ok.

Caring, sharing� every little thing that we are wearing.

She used to borrow my clothes. Then I started borrowing hers. Especially the colors. She never wore them anymore. We have about three skirts that we constantly pass back and forth.

When a certain gentleman arrived from Rome, she wore the dress, and I stayed home.

Actually, I always wore the dress. She hates dresses. And she always stayed home. At first too young. Later too shy. Except once� (prom�)

All kinds of weather we stick together, the same in the rain or sun. Two different faces, but in tight places we think and we act as one.

We sound exactly alike. On the phone we�re indistinguishable. Identical ravings about Hello Kitty teacups, Ani and Bjork. We�re girls. Sue us. We used to have a little club called Smarya. Sarah. Mary. Smarya. We had closets with an adjoining wall, so we�d each sit in our closed and talk about secret club stuff. More like strain to barely hear secret club stuff. We had a secret code with pictures representing letters and we�d right each other secret notes like Miss Mary let�s have a secret meeting at 4:00 tomorrow to read our books. Yours in Smarya, Sarah. The notes would be left in miniature red mailboxes we each had in our rooms. They had been gifts from our Nana�the grandma who told me every day how beautiful I was, and taught my sister to play poker. Neither of us can remember the code. I think a butterfly represented an �M� and a musical note was an �S�. But that�s as far as it goes. I used to help her clean her room by cheerleading and pretending that there were some people who kept �calling� on her to phone who were coming to get her stuff if it wasn�t picked up. �GASP! I can�t believe you did that! How could you? To a child?! SHE KNEW IT WAS A GAME!!! Besides, they never showed up, and she always won cool prizes for beating them. Stuff like witch-shaped cup-cake topers from Halloween and bunny shaped erasers. The good stuff. She still has a lot of it�

Those who�ve seen us, know that not a thing can come between us.

I moved twenty minutes away to go to college and she got very upset.

Many men have tried to split us up, but no one can.

I got a serious boyfriend, and she got very excited. Till I cut of Thanksgiving early to go see his family. I moved to New York and she got an eating disorder. I�m not such an egomaniac to think that my moving halfway across the country triggered her food issues, but I love her enough to feel guilty. I went home for Christmas and found bloody scissors and clueless parents. The notes in the red mailbox had a new code. I helped her clean her room. I wanted to put all of her pain into my suitcase and bring it to New York so she could sleep in her bed again. My parents caught on, and she�s getting some help, but the �fix� is slow and unsteady. For her 16th birthday, we made a cake out of foil and a frozen yogurt lid. She opened her presents, while the rest of us ate brownies. Later, when she thought no one was watching, she tried to eat some soup. Her stomach revolted and she cried. I held her and she pinky-swore that she would beat this�

Say Say Oh Playmate, come out and play with me. And bring your dollies three. Climb up my apple tree. Slide down my rain barrel into my cellar door. And we�ll be jolly friends forever more.

More, more, more, more, more, more.

*

It wasn't like that! Why are you telling them this? Why are you doing this to me? We were just sisters. We were just sisters. We were just sisters. We had a club and I wanted to be you and it's really awful to want to be someone no matter how much you love them, especially when you're 17 and you start to feel that for the first time. And you stopped being perfect. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I idolized you. I shouldn't have and you didn't bargain that when you begged god for a sister to balance those three brothers, but you know, I didn't bargain for always being in your shadow, always being called by your name, and I didn't bargain for a piece about our sisterness dumbing down everything until I'm no one except the girl who didn't understand your college was so close, the girl who thought your boyfriend was so cool until he took me away.

but don't you understand? I knew Mom and Dad were going to fall apart when you left. I knew Joe and John were going to go together and no one was going to mediate, and no you shouldn't have had to do that, but you *did* do that, and I needed it, and I needed a sister I could go down the hall and talk to, not one *forty* minutes away that I couldn't call because her roommate might pick up the phone. and I was already sick when you met Steve and I just needed someone so badly, and don't you see, I was you, so every time you went further away that was another step closer to losing myself...

don't you understand? why would you write it this way? I'm not trying to hurt you. I never have been. not when I was little and I wanted to have tea parties and you thought they were boring. not when Anna lived with us and I wanted to play ponies but you played with her instead so I hung around and pouted and plotted and ruined your game. not when I got sick. not as I got better. not last night when I asked why you've spent the whole trip yelling at me, even though it's only been twice. but why would you hurt me? I'm not trying to keep you from feeling, but you don't have any right to last out at me. you have a right to be angry; you don't have a right to tell jokes that rip me open and then get silent when I'm not laughing.

I'm allowed to feel, too. I'm allowed to feel.

why would you write that? why would you feel that? why wouldn't you hide it in your journal, instead of telling me you had something I should read? a piece about us, you said. and I thought you meant us which is stupid really because there's never been us. there's just you trying to be perfect and me trying to be you. and I really did/do think it's possible to solve this but when I said to the universe that we never fought, I didn't realize we'd actually have to.

why don't you like me? you don't want a shadow. why won't you let me be who I am? why won't you fix yourself so that we can talk like friends talk? so that you can be as good and better, be my sister? I want to ask God for a sister now. I want to start over. it's too hard 17 yrs too late.

me

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