Text #61.

March 1, 7:56 pm.

This is extremely weird for me right now. Bella looks different, I'd say like a cool human being, like me. It looks like suddenly, my cool genes were passed to her and she became cool also. She looks more mature and more grown up. Like those years that she spent England made good for her. She isn't the same annoying and bratty big sister she was. I hope she continues that way. Or else, everything will stumble once more.

Text #62.

March 2, 5:56 pm.

Bella's cooler, but now, all of mom's attention is on her now. That's what I wanted, but I can't help to feel worthless now that it finally happened. Mom doesn't care about me. I know she doesn't. Bella is her favorite. I don't even remember the last time I told her I loved her or even a simple goodbye. We don't talk like we used to. Basically, it has always been like this:

Me: Mom, I got an A on trigonometry today.

Mom: You did nothing more than your duty as a student.
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Me: Mom, I cleaned all the house today.

Mom: Yeah, well, you forgot to clean the sinks.
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Mom: Did you not wash your plate?

Me: Yeah, I forgot.

Mom: What did I do to deserve such an ungrateful child? If you were more like your sister that doesn't give me a headache, things would be so much easier. You don't do anything right. I do everything for you and you don't do nothing for me except stress me out and make me furious. Go to your room right now and give me your cell phone!
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It's basically like that. Whenever I come home happy, which happens rarely, she just has to ruin it by telling at me the moment I walk through the threshold. I swear that I try to be strong. I try to be strong for me, but sometimes the ones who seem the strongest people, can be actually the weakest wreck inside.

Text #63.

March 3, 1:06 am.

It's 1:00 am and I should be sleeping. You probably are. Or not. I'm jealous of your bedroom walls because they must know all of your 2:00 am secrets. I'm awake in bed imagining things I could have said.
And the things I will never be able to say.
How things could be.
And how things will never be.