A thousand miles away from you



You just didn't had to be like that, you know? I think you're proud of me - I hope you are; but it would be nice to be sure.

I don't know why you sometimes say so many awful things to us, to people actually, but specially to us - D. and me. And you never seem to know when to stop, it's like...you're hearing crying but you're not really listening.

Most times, I don't understand you or wth you are saying but I keep trying to. Can't you just try? I wish you could but i don't thing you'll ever change.

I love you but sometimes you make me ask why do I. And that's terrible - I don't know why it happens. It's as hurtful as interesting: dispite I am your daughter you don't know me that well but you always know so, so well where my scars are. You find them, you dig them, and then you walk away, leaving me confusingly sad, not knowing what to do next, because my head starts hurting as much as my tears fall down my face.

I'm alright now. I may cry and get a little lost when we have a fight and you say things that are extremly unfair, but I'm not five anymore so I won't (don't worrie) sit on the floor crying for attention, 'til I get what I want from you: comprehension, pride.

No. I will think about our fight a little (okay, a lot more than a little), I will sleep on it (maybe dream on it) and tomorrow I will scatch a yellow smile and a wispered «good morning». And I will do that, not because I forgot what you unfairly had said to me or because I've concluded you were right. I will do it because I understand that with you, it's always going to be like this: First you hurt me, then I try to fight back, I fail, you turn around, I cry, I sleep on it all, I wake up, and I smile again.

And it's okay.


Cisne.

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