"So what is it now? You're not gonna tell them? Again?", she asked with her bossy style. I never liked it, but this time she was right. I'm never gonna be able to say it. They would never know because I'm never gonna tell.
"Why are you always doing this? You think if you just keep it to yourself, people would be better off? No, you're wrong and God, you always are!", she continued her speech as if it was gonna change my mind. Then she stopped talking and looked into my eyes. So deeply I didn't even see her blinking.
"Look, I just wanted to make sure that you're alright, okay? I didn't mean to scare you or anything. You know it.", she started to change the pitch of her voice as she tried to get my trust this time.
"But you know I'm not.", I finally had the chance to speak. "You know I'm not okay and there's no way I could be if I told them", I continued. She sighed as she turned her head away, finding a possibly more interesting object to see than this helpless, powerless soul with a pair of mournful eyes. These eyes that once begged her to stop saying all those mean things, the same eyes that convinced her to be mean in another time.
"I'm not sorry to say this. I think you're the biggest coward I've ever encountered in my life, despite everything people say about you. I think you're just, you're lost, and you know it, but you're so afraid to try to find a way out that you just let yourself getting lost forever. You don't even wanna ask for help. Congratulations, that's where your pride takes you". I'm not surprised that she could be that direct. After years living with her, how could I not love her for blatantly saying the things I'm always afraid to say about me?
But what is love, I never really got it. All I know was I wanted to punch her so bad, straight in the face, or to just get rid of her forever, for being way too mean at times I was even lower than the ground. I wanted to shut her mouth up with my silence that she never has, and get myself in peace without her radical emotional thoughts interfering my logical senses. I wanted to do it so bad that I started to get really scared. Because when I looked at her, I looked at myself. The eyes I used to look at her eyes are the same eyes she used to look at mine. Our hearts beat the same rhyme because scientifically speaking, they're the same. Another question that almost drives me crazy, how come we think differently if we share the same body?
But I know, before I could say a word, she'd come and tell me with her bossy style that I'm a coward for never telling people about us.