So much to tell, so many stories. Today as I sat across the table from my friend, he held my hands and told me that he thinks that I'm incredible. His eyes told me something else. That fine line between friendship and love. I've lost it so long ago. I can never tell what's real and what isn't. I dream too much. Reality eventually becomes a blur.
Did I ever tell you there is three of us? It's not just two girls, but there's a boy too. He is beautiful, blonde, and has the biggest ears. The last time I saw him I must have been eight. I never forgot him though. That's what family means, never forgetting. He doesn't remember me anymore, he only remembers her, because she's always been good that way, I've always been bad that way. I'm not really memorable, people forget me, and I understand. It's easy to forget me.
I fell in love a few months ago. I didn't even notice. I thought it was just an obsession, I was sure I couldn't love him because I love Peter, but I was wrong. I fell in love with him and he never cared. Dispensable.
The Paris fairytale is almost over, and I am so glad. This year has without a doubt been the hardest of my life. And the future scares the shit out of me.