Source of Humanity

My sister happened to discover the brilliance of creating art on our skin. She had danced her paintbrush across the canvas, creating a crimson stain, a promised scar awaiting the near future. I know she had to have learned them from somewhere. From someone. The saying “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree” has never held such a deep meaning before. She learned it from me. Her big sis. And why don’t I feel guilty for not teaching her the harsh and damaging effects of self damage? Why don’t I feel guilty that she has to conceal her wounds until further notice? I think it’s because I see part of myself in her. A part of the girl I wished I carried along with me. Someone who was gutsy enough to go further than their limits. She embodies who I wanted to be when I tainted my skin with the future permanent scars. I just wish I can do what I once loved doing. But now the consequences would be much more severe. Much more life changing. I know that change could be good, but it could also be damaging to everything. I could lose much more than I thought. But I miss it. I miss the pain  inflicted on myself. I miss the way my blood was a reminder that I am somewhat human and that everything normal cries too. I miss the thin line between life and death and how I was finally able to control whether or not I live or die. I miss the way that God couldn’t win something for once and how I was a curve ball he couldn’t hit. I just miss it. And that’s probably why I didn’t really freak out when I seen the lines on her wrists. Because I knew that deep down, she hurt in the way we all do, but her hurt resulted in a “violent” action. But it reminded me that she was just as human as I.