Diploma

I used to believe you were jealous of me. I used to believe you envied me for what he gave me.

It's in moments like this that I love you the most. I know, we are so the same and so different. I remind you of her, who, for whatever reason, you believed didn't want you. But I'd like to think we are more similar than you know.

When you gave me the diamond crown years ago, I knew. I knew you wished me well.

I know you don't always understand me. This frustrated you more than it did him, used to living in a world of eccentric women. I think in a lot of ways he was happy I'm just like her, the mother he didn't keep. Perhaps he understands her more through me? You don't throw tantrums. You don't carry on, bitch and moan, and then laugh till it hurts because it isn't in you. You're stable and consistent. Shy and reserved. Unwavering and biased in all opinions. It used to take you sincere effort to come up with schemes to play with me as a little girl, and you usually couldn't carry on the game. It doesn't flow naturally to you as it did to me. In retrospect, this is probably why you never bothered with me, I showed you what you lacked and wasn't smart enough to disguise it.

Your encouragement means the most to me. I know its yours that is sincere. You aren't afraid of me like he is, or doting on me like he always has been. I look just like you but have their personality, something I'm sure you don't forget, as you worry about the implications of this.

But the older I get, we come to a certain peace. I've made amends with the fact that I can never live in your world of perfection, I simply don't have the will. And these things will never mean the same to you as they do to me. You don't thrive of off attention, negative or otherwise.

But knowing you do, in fact, want good for me, means more than you know.