No truer words could have been spoken about my sisters. One silly boy-silly because he never understood many things- said to me once, that I should not spend so much time with my sisters. That right there was a sign of the way things would end-with the boy. Granted, he only had one brother that he could barely stand. I never understood how anyone could not like their very own sibling. He never understood how anyone could like their siblings so much. It did not end well. His story is past and I hope that he made friends; with his brother at least. Though, this is not about him, it is about my sisters.
We all tried to kill each other growing up. That is a fact. We tried losing one another, another fact. In fact, our young selves would be hard pressed to believe that we are as close as the ingredients in a deep chocolate cake; distinct and impossible to lose without destroying the cake.
