• I have become serious.
    I have to talk to her about something pressing deeply into my heart.
    “Hey, listen. We really need to talk,” I tell her.
    The memory of last night flies through my mind.
    I can’t stop thinking about her current condition.
    I need to make her realize that this isn’t normal.
    She’s destroying herself and I don’t want to say goodbye.


    She shakes her head at me.
    It’s clear she doesn’t want to talk.
    “Let’s not. At least, not right now.”
    Maybe there is some kind of hope after all.
    Maybe she’s just saying all of this in order to make me be quiet about things.
    I’m watching her as she wastes away.
    It’s not a good thing to witness.
    The way I feel isn’t good.

    The memory of last night continues to run through my mind.
    It’s like an endless movie.
    It plays over and over again inside the walls of my mind.
    I get up and pace back and forth in front of an open bedroom doorway,
    About ready to just fly off towards the nearest exit.
    I want to get away.
    I want to run.
    I’m itching to run.
    Run away from the situation I don’t want to see.
    “What is going on?”

    Of course, my beloved older sister carelessly shrugs her shoulders.
    She closes her eyes and yawns.
    “Goodnight,” she says to me as she turns over and away from me,
    Obviously trying to ignore me and my questions.
    This hurts because there needs to be some sort of change.
    It can’t go on like this.

    She’s going to force me, I’m thinking.
    I mentally picture myself screaming at her,
    My eyes crazy with fear,
    Fear she continues to put shooting through my body.
    I stop pacing.
    I close my eyes and begin to breathe deeply and slowly,
    Holding my breath for a few seconds with each inhale.
    No. I’m not going to. That’s exactly what she wants, I tell myself.
    “This is serious.”

    She sighs and opens her eyes with a little pout,
    Refusing to face me.
    I can tell she’s pouting by her next words.
    “You’re not going away, are you? It’s a pretty morning.”
    It’s a weak ...
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