King of Anything

31

I guess being second fiddle comes natural to me. I was usually a stand-in, or replacement of some kind anyways.

And Scar?

Scar always ditches me eventually. Just like everyone else. Did I really think this time would be different?

My problem is—the reason I feel like I'm dying is—I measure my self worth, based on the scale of people's love for me.

But no one seems to love me, and do it's for a very short time and then...I hate myself again.

So I'm dropped off in front of my apartment, and I go in. I cry. Drink wine. Y'know. The usual. Chocolate.

I'll see if I can get my job back. I don't...it's fine.

If he had said he was attracted to my sister, I wouldn't have minded so much. He's a man. She's a woman. She's attractive.

I'm not stoked about it, but I'm not pissed either. It's natural.

But that...he needs to be with her, to confirm his feelings for me?

Well that just hurts. And it's the fact that he's totally different with her. Like they have history and chemistry and I'm...

What am I? Chopped liver?

He smiles. He pushes me away, obviously I am less important to him than her. And he confirmed that.

So this was nice while it lasted. And f**k I wanna die. I also wanna Kill her. Kill them both.

Done it before.

So I'm alone again. I'm single again. I bet he isn't aware that we're not together anymore. I guess I'll text him.

I feel like he deserves that.

My sister. Not really my sister. We call each other sister. We're rivals.

And she's won. Again.

It's fine. Y'know? It's fine. I'll just...mourn that beautiful moment, because it's dead and move on.

Because that's what I do. Life goes to s**t. I make a mess. Clean it up. Move on.

Whether that's ugly crying, or burying some bodies.

I move on eventually. And I'll hurt about it, no, I'll agonize about it at night but..:I'll move on.

I'll survive, without meaning to, and I'll get by, and then eventually, the days become a monotonous blur and I won't feel anything.

And I've done it so many times that I already know how it goes. It's just wash, rinse, repeat, over and over, same cycle.

You'd think I'd learn that using external affection to measure my self-worth would be negative but nope!

Haven't got that down yet!

Sometimes I think of getting a dna test. Getting on ancestry and finding my parents.

But I'm scared. What if they hated me? They gave me up. And...somehow I don't want to face the face that said to me as an infant, as a fetus—

You're not good enough.

I just...I'm not ready. Maybe one day. For now, I mourn Scar. And I mourn others things I've lost and it's just a sad blur.

Until it's a numb blur. 

And then you die.

Isn't life...fun?