There she was, garnering all the flashes of the camera. She was all-smiles, surrounded by all her visitors.
She was wearing her long, black, sparkling, and elegant gown.
One by one, her guests took her hand. One by one they placed those glimmering tulips on her hand. Those flowers were as fresh as the morning mist.
Every movement was calculated. Thank goodness for the rehearsals and the cruel instructors. They would've never made it in time.
Each of the partners' dance was perfect. The timing was right, the steps were fit enough to be called heavenly. This night was truly something to remember.
It was her night after all. Again all the flashes of the cameras came and all her guests delivered the very best claps that they have.
Her smiles were nothing compared to mine. Before the night ended, mom and dad gave their speeches to the guests. They really have to make it public. They really have to use the microphone on how they vigorously proclaim that she is the one and only pride of our family.
Every officemates, business partners, and family friends have to hear that you are the brightest among the two of us.
The scholar.
The magna cumlaude.
The model.
The ultra-talented daughter.
The beautiful and lovely Adelaida.
Yeah, it always had to be this way. I was always under the shadow of your glory. I was always the unknown child.
Everytime that they we have so-called family gathering, you were the only daughter there is and I had to stay in my room.
For what? For just a simple reason of I-am-not-worthy.
Don't you ever get tired of being a trophy?
Well, I do. I am so tired. I am tired at the sight of you, being their trophy. I always am tired of you hogging all the attention. Everyday I get sick of all the praises you get from them. I never existed.
You are the smarter one -- Magna Cum Laude, academic scholar, a council member of an international social organization, and a leader of a youth foundation is what you are.
I am smart too. I got a 90 on my latest average and I give tutoring services to our neighbors. And I always try my best in school and especially at what I do.
You are the prettier one -- Modelling activities here and there, promotions for our family business, and social gatherings with mom and dad. You were always radiant and glamorous.
Uhm, I was once featured in a school poster too you know. My classmates said I was pretty even though I'm not at the center.
You are the talented one -- You're into sports(and a lot of them too), you can sing beautifully, and you can dance perfect enough to win a contest. You can play classical tunes with your guitar as good as the ones we see at concerts.
Well, I can play the guitar, and my teachers says I'm really good at it.
I wonder when mom and dad will even notice that I am doing great at school and helping out others. And that I am really good-looking even if I don't wear any make-up and that I can play lots of good tunes with this guitar of mine.
I know you know these things about me. And most especially, I know that you actually know how I feel. But you never ask. It's as if you were just a robot with no emotions. Yes you are a good child. Yes you are a what every single parent wants. And yes, you are the best person in our whole family.
But you were never a good sister. I know you were not always like that. I really love and adore you when we were young. But you've changed. You've changed a lot. You were eaten by all these extravagance and pride that you forgot that I existed.
You forgot your little sister that has always adored and loved you throughout these times.
You took all the love from me, Adelaida.
Well, I hope you are happy now. You can rest well now, and get off from all these activities of yours.
You're just there in bed, struggling to stay alive with that life support of yours. I hope you liked the flowers in your room. They're from me. I planted them myself, in the garden that we used to play. In the very same garden that the closest sisters in the world used to stay.
That was us.
I guess I should'nt have hit you too hard on the head. I'm sorry. And I know that pushing you down that high staircase of ours would cause you pain and probably death. Again, I am sorry.
But you should be sorry too. For ruining my life. For taking away mom and dad's love from me. For being so perfect.
And now mom and dad is having a hard time on how they're going to tell our neighbors, family friends, business partners and officemates on how you accidentally fell on the staircase and hit your head on the floor.
Suits them well. Let them have a hard time covering up the insanity that their worthless, younger daughter brought up.
Fine. Go ahead. Tell them everything that is necessary to not know how you ended up being dependent on a life support. It's a pitiful tragedy that this ever happened to our perfect family, Adelaida.
Oh, I'm sorry. To YOUR family, is what I really mean.
Well at least mom and dad did great on covering up for the two of us. For your little accident, and my trip to the asylum.
International education really is a very good cover-up.
I hope you liked those flowers. I planted them myself.
She was wearing her long, black, sparkling, and elegant gown.
One by one, her guests took her hand. One by one they placed those glimmering tulips on her hand. Those flowers were as fresh as the morning mist.
Every movement was calculated. Thank goodness for the rehearsals and the cruel instructors. They would've never made it in time.
Each of the partners' dance was perfect. The timing was right, the steps were fit enough to be called heavenly. This night was truly something to remember.
It was her night after all. Again all the flashes of the cameras came and all her guests delivered the very best claps that they have.
Her smiles were nothing compared to mine. Before the night ended, mom and dad gave their speeches to the guests. They really have to make it public. They really have to use the microphone on how they vigorously proclaim that she is the one and only pride of our family.
Every officemates, business partners, and family friends have to hear that you are the brightest among the two of us.
The scholar.
The magna cumlaude.
The model.
The ultra-talented daughter.
The beautiful and lovely Adelaida.
Yeah, it always had to be this way. I was always under the shadow of your glory. I was always the unknown child.
Everytime that they we have so-called family gathering, you were the only daughter there is and I had to stay in my room.
For what? For just a simple reason of I-am-not-worthy.
Don't you ever get tired of being a trophy?
Well, I do. I am so tired. I am tired at the sight of you, being their trophy. I always am tired of you hogging all the attention. Everyday I get sick of all the praises you get from them. I never existed.
You are the smarter one -- Magna Cum Laude, academic scholar, a council member of an international social organization, and a leader of a youth foundation is what you are.
I am smart too. I got a 90 on my latest average and I give tutoring services to our neighbors. And I always try my best in school and especially at what I do.
You are the prettier one -- Modelling activities here and there, promotions for our family business, and social gatherings with mom and dad. You were always radiant and glamorous.
Uhm, I was once featured in a school poster too you know. My classmates said I was pretty even though I'm not at the center.
You are the talented one -- You're into sports(and a lot of them too), you can sing beautifully, and you can dance perfect enough to win a contest. You can play classical tunes with your guitar as good as the ones we see at concerts.
Well, I can play the guitar, and my teachers says I'm really good at it.
I wonder when mom and dad will even notice that I am doing great at school and helping out others. And that I am really good-looking even if I don't wear any make-up and that I can play lots of good tunes with this guitar of mine.
I know you know these things about me. And most especially, I know that you actually know how I feel. But you never ask. It's as if you were just a robot with no emotions. Yes you are a good child. Yes you are a what every single parent wants. And yes, you are the best person in our whole family.
But you were never a good sister. I know you were not always like that. I really love and adore you when we were young. But you've changed. You've changed a lot. You were eaten by all these extravagance and pride that you forgot that I existed.
You forgot your little sister that has always adored and loved you throughout these times.
You took all the love from me, Adelaida.
Well, I hope you are happy now. You can rest well now, and get off from all these activities of yours.
You're just there in bed, struggling to stay alive with that life support of yours. I hope you liked the flowers in your room. They're from me. I planted them myself, in the garden that we used to play. In the very same garden that the closest sisters in the world used to stay.
That was us.
I guess I should'nt have hit you too hard on the head. I'm sorry. And I know that pushing you down that high staircase of ours would cause you pain and probably death. Again, I am sorry.
But you should be sorry too. For ruining my life. For taking away mom and dad's love from me. For being so perfect.
And now mom and dad is having a hard time on how they're going to tell our neighbors, family friends, business partners and officemates on how you accidentally fell on the staircase and hit your head on the floor.
Suits them well. Let them have a hard time covering up the insanity that their worthless, younger daughter brought up.
Fine. Go ahead. Tell them everything that is necessary to not know how you ended up being dependent on a life support. It's a pitiful tragedy that this ever happened to our perfect family, Adelaida.
Oh, I'm sorry. To YOUR family, is what I really mean.
Well at least mom and dad did great on covering up for the two of us. For your little accident, and my trip to the asylum.
International education really is a very good cover-up.
I hope you liked those flowers. I planted them myself.
