some small things

 I made the interviewers laugh,

but when they asked me what my biggest weakness was

I'd said I took things to heart

and they laughed again, because that isn't a good thing in the service line

But I take criticisms just fine, 

customers say the meanest things when they know you are at their beck and call,

they are gone once they pay, and only linger around while you rant to a colleague

It is the little things that stick around,

papercuts are the most common comparison, as if the pain comes from random brushes against the corner of a note,

not from the pinches from others that are small to give but sharp to receive

It starts from the ticks in conversations, your mood copying the blue

You say I lack communication but when I talk, I'm playing victim

I'm crying before you, my throat hurts from trying to hold it in, you lose your temper within half a minute

I'm trying to understand you and you don't even want to talk to me? What the fuck?

I tell you the things that happen at home, you are the older sister I never had,

but suddenly you're not on my side, 

suddenly, you're not replying when I finally start telling you exactly how they treat me,

and when I ask why did you ignore this?

the whole world doesn't fucking revolve around you

??????

She calls you crying, and suddenly I am the bad guy, and you dare to intervene despite being absent most of the time?

Where were you when they were getting violent, your guests and my housemates?

You made me your bridesmaid, 

the first and last time I would ever be someone's, 

the lonely father's among the mother's and stepfather's,

3 best friends and a cousin from the other side whom you call your love,

Me? 17, socially awkward, lost, confused, drinking the champagne that our grandmother would never believe you'd served me, for you were always so perfect while I was the nonsensical one

Eight years later, wedding anniversary, the sequence of old photographs from a day I remember clearly for all the wrong reasons

I finally get to the picture of your bridesmaids,

and it is the very one I was not in.

_

It starts from

the countless plans we made that divert because you had a fight with your man,

you weren't feeling it,

you had last minute assignments at the exact same time we planned to meet,

or simply because you decide to keep quiet, relieved when I didn't seem to remember either

Your lack of enthusiasm, you couldn't seem to care less about the places we could eat

it's so hard for you to reply even though you're on your phone all the time the few times I see you

The same thing, I keep to myself until I explode, but when I am truthful,

I am accused of not accepting you for the way you are,

for not accepting that you are a terrible listener, I am uptight for getting annoyed after you make the same joke a few times in a row

Our engagements, 

June, you were the first person I texted before I went to social media,

I asked you to be my bridesmaid

December, I waited for you to personally text me a picture of yourself, in whatever colour you wore, whatever ring you picked out, whatever picture you took

No texts came, and now I am having seconds thoughts, 

it would seem to make both of us happy if you were just another relative at my wedding

All along, the countless reposts from your other acquaintances, the very same girl you work with everyday, posing by the same conveyor belt again and again

I am never in your stories

We went into a photobooth 4 years ago, my copy remains on my wall while you lost yours a long time ago

I run to your house for comfort sometimes, but I feel unsafe again, seeing your corkboard

choked full of photographs with your other friends

Wait, why do I say other when I am not a friend,

only now I know you put up with me because our parents are siblings,

and we just happen to be born in the same year.

_

two smaller reasons why death by draining blood seems ideal