Stormz on the Horizon

Love Letter?

July 31st

Amber King

It was about seven o'clock in the evening. I just finished me and Ivory's hair. Our twentieth birthday is tomorrow. When it came to hair, I didn't let nobody in the city do mine. My mama made the mistake of never taking the time to do our thick heads as little girls, she always paid someone to do it. Some girl messed up our hair so bad some years ago and I swore I wouldn't let nobody touch it again. Since then, I've been perfecting my craft. To say I can melt lace like some butter is an understatement. Everyone knew that. When it came to our birthday or any occasion, I always got us right no matter how much of an unappreciative bitch Ivory decided she wanted to be.

She got up out of the chair to stroke her silky lavender bundles. They were long and dyed to perfection by the one and only. The same was done with mine, a pretty sky blue, it was my signature color. You can say it's indicative of my my personality...I'm the melancholy type.

"Hell yeah this is cute," she talked to herself in the vanity. "Stop messing with it, you gone make it lift before tomorrow. Let me wrap it," I reached. I dealt with her nasty ass attitude in my chair for the last four hours, she better put this shit up. As her sister I don't even charge her ungrateful ass.

"Girl back up! I'll do it," she rolled her neck. "I swear you get on my fucking nerves, I'm not five I'm grown!"

I scoffed, "Girl relax...you're still nineteen." "Not for long, cuz it's my mothafucking birthday tomorrow!!!!" she danced.

"Our," I stared blankly.

"Yeah girl, whatever."

See how she just did that?

Sometimes I really feel like this bitch doesn't deserve me. I listen to all her problems, do her nappy head, give her useful advice..and somehow I always end up being treated like a piece of trash. Everything is about Ivory. Her, her, her. I don't know where the disconnect is, she can hardly acknowledge that we even have the same birthday, let alone that we are twins. It's like I'm some sort of step sister. My parents don't treat me that way at all, on purpose that is.

Coming up, I was always the one with the mouth. It was always me whooping somebody's ass at school. I was a reigning champ, these were certified hands of steel. I used to fight like it was just me because that's what it is. Sure we were always the same age and went to the same school, but this hoe was never in sight when I needed her. Laying up somewhere looking light for some nigga was typically what was occupying her. My black ass couldn't even get one to look in my direction....and she knew it just like everyone else.

We had the same titties and ass, but I always seem to fall short somewhere along the line. Ivory's personality compared to mine is garbage, but no one can get passed everything wrong with girls like me.

Black girls like me.

I'm black as asphalt, strike one, I'm tall as Paul Bunyan, strike two, I'm independent, strike three, I don't bullshit, strike four, shall I go on? You get the gist. Niggas these days don't like any of that shit. Nobody is really checking for a girl like me. But her? Oh boy, checking doesn't begin to cover it. And this part isn't jealousy talking, I wouldn't wanna be anything like her. Sure, I love her, but I wouldn't call her a good person to aspire after. I have strong feelings she wouldn't piss on me if I were on fire, especially if it disturbed her pearls to do so.

I need to walk away. Every time I get to thinking about all the shit wrong with her it takes me to a dark place. I hadn't went out to check the mailbox today, so I'm gonna make that my excuse to exit stage left. If I lay another eye on this bitch imma punch her in her throat. I walked downstairs and through the foyer, I caught a glimpse of myself in the ornate mirror on the wall. I stood there for the next five minutes playing around and fidgeting with my hair. I always ended up doing this.