We were a formidable pair, at least that's what everybody said.
But I liked it. I liked that we were both stubborn and fiery.
I don't even know why I bothered arguing with you, all I ever wanted was to be free from anger and malice.
The problem was I never told you how I felt, a habit I learned to keep from provoking my parents. But I'm telling you now.
I'm telling you that I miss you, and that I'm sitting here, typing alone in my room. I'm wishing that I could reach through this paper a thousand miles and hold your hand.
I loved your hands. They were callused but they were comforting.
When Dad hurt me, you let me squeeze them as hard as I wanted to.