And you've left me here again. And you know what happens when I'm alone.
I start thinking.
And when I start thinking, I usually end up more confused then before.
You were always the thinker.
Oh, not that I'm stupid. I'm not, and I know it. But my mind is a giant Gordian knot. I need someone else around to talk to, to bounce ideas off of, to help me understand what I mean. Preferably you. You've always understood me more than I have.
Since you're not here, since you're out with MY boyfri-
Now you see? That's what happens to me. I'm really and truly not mad. But every bitter, confused thought I've ever had about you two piles together without an outlet. And then I just get mad for no reason. I don't like being mad at you.
So, I paint. Almost all of the art I've done when I get like this I end up throwing away.
I've wasted many, many bottles of red paint on that kind of art.
Some of them, though, I keep in the hidden corners of the attic. So that I will still know what I felt.
Not like I know now, that is.
But I think this piece will stay in the attic. It's a picture of you and him.
No, the OTHER him. The br-other.
I know, I know. I've heard you whine about it before.
"He's too flaky. He's inconsistent. Can't hold down a job. Blah, blah, blah."
That's the way I am, too. Do you hate ME for it?
"I don't hate him. I just don't think we'd work. He's too old for me." Yadda, yadda.
Only by a few years. We could have been sisters. Not that YOU care.
"What do we need some fancy legal paperwork for? We're friends. I'm not gonna marry your brother just to prove that we're friends."
IT WASN'T FOR ME. It was for you. I think you'll realize it someday. I think you know that Mr. Wandering Eye is no good.
Marrying some secure, stable, finacially sound, stick-in-the-mud isn't going to make you happy and you know it.
One day, he'll find someone else, and you'll probably come here crying.
And you know what? I'll hide. I'll let you come to the door, and I'll let him answer.
You'll ask for me, and I'll make sure he really thinks I'm gone. He'll tell you that.
You'll try to leave, but he'll stop you.
He always does, and you always let him.
He'll know somethings wrong. He can read you like that. It bothers you to some degree, but you really like that you don't have to say anything.
The same is true vice-versa, if you'd admit it to yourself.
I'll just let you spend some time alone. He'll comfort you, and you'll get over it.
And then, maybe you'll realize that my brother IS what you want. You WANT to live day to day. You want to be creative. You don't want rules, fancy clothes, or formal gatherings.
That was what your sister wanted.
I know you. You think I'm "playing matchmaker", but I am trying to make you happy.
You wanna know why I haven't had a decent relationship since you got here? Because I've spent so much time trying to make your's good.
And YOU keep screwing it up!
I'm putting you ahead of me, and you can't see it.
You only took him because he wanted you and you wanted to convince yourself you wanted anyone but my brother.
No, that's not why I'm mad. I figured him out a long time ago. I didn't know at first, but after I did, I started blowing his money, just because I could. He used me, so I used him. All's fair, they say.
I'm mad because you won't believe I'm right.
I am.
Sorry. You see? That's what happens when you let me think.
But, you will never see this picture until you admit what you want.
I'll give it to you when it becomes reality.
No, it's not tuxes and fluffly white dresses. Though I'm sure when that happens, you'll make sure the bridesmaids wear pink.
It's a kiss, sweet and simple. And I will sacrifice my happiness until I see it happen.
Aren't you glad to have a friend like me?
I think I think too much.
I start thinking.
And when I start thinking, I usually end up more confused then before.
You were always the thinker.
Oh, not that I'm stupid. I'm not, and I know it. But my mind is a giant Gordian knot. I need someone else around to talk to, to bounce ideas off of, to help me understand what I mean. Preferably you. You've always understood me more than I have.
Since you're not here, since you're out with MY boyfri-
Now you see? That's what happens to me. I'm really and truly not mad. But every bitter, confused thought I've ever had about you two piles together without an outlet. And then I just get mad for no reason. I don't like being mad at you.
So, I paint. Almost all of the art I've done when I get like this I end up throwing away.
I've wasted many, many bottles of red paint on that kind of art.
Some of them, though, I keep in the hidden corners of the attic. So that I will still know what I felt.
Not like I know now, that is.
But I think this piece will stay in the attic. It's a picture of you and him.
No, the OTHER him. The br-other.
I know, I know. I've heard you whine about it before.
"He's too flaky. He's inconsistent. Can't hold down a job. Blah, blah, blah."
That's the way I am, too. Do you hate ME for it?
"I don't hate him. I just don't think we'd work. He's too old for me." Yadda, yadda.
Only by a few years. We could have been sisters. Not that YOU care.
"What do we need some fancy legal paperwork for? We're friends. I'm not gonna marry your brother just to prove that we're friends."
IT WASN'T FOR ME. It was for you. I think you'll realize it someday. I think you know that Mr. Wandering Eye is no good.
Marrying some secure, stable, finacially sound, stick-in-the-mud isn't going to make you happy and you know it.
One day, he'll find someone else, and you'll probably come here crying.
And you know what? I'll hide. I'll let you come to the door, and I'll let him answer.
You'll ask for me, and I'll make sure he really thinks I'm gone. He'll tell you that.
You'll try to leave, but he'll stop you.
He always does, and you always let him.
He'll know somethings wrong. He can read you like that. It bothers you to some degree, but you really like that you don't have to say anything.
The same is true vice-versa, if you'd admit it to yourself.
I'll just let you spend some time alone. He'll comfort you, and you'll get over it.
And then, maybe you'll realize that my brother IS what you want. You WANT to live day to day. You want to be creative. You don't want rules, fancy clothes, or formal gatherings.
That was what your sister wanted.
I know you. You think I'm "playing matchmaker", but I am trying to make you happy.
You wanna know why I haven't had a decent relationship since you got here? Because I've spent so much time trying to make your's good.
And YOU keep screwing it up!
I'm putting you ahead of me, and you can't see it.
You only took him because he wanted you and you wanted to convince yourself you wanted anyone but my brother.
No, that's not why I'm mad. I figured him out a long time ago. I didn't know at first, but after I did, I started blowing his money, just because I could. He used me, so I used him. All's fair, they say.
I'm mad because you won't believe I'm right.
I am.
Sorry. You see? That's what happens when you let me think.
But, you will never see this picture until you admit what you want.
I'll give it to you when it becomes reality.
No, it's not tuxes and fluffly white dresses. Though I'm sure when that happens, you'll make sure the bridesmaids wear pink.
It's a kiss, sweet and simple. And I will sacrifice my happiness until I see it happen.
Aren't you glad to have a friend like me?
I think I think too much.