As far as I can remember, you were the narcissistic one. For three years you were always right. You were always proving a point. I was the wrong one. I was the crazy one. You? You remembered everything as it happened. You were always spot on. Many times I leaned on you emotionally and instead of picking me up you crushed me. You took joy in crushing me. I was always the weak one. I was always the one that had to grow up. You? You’re all grown up. You’re tough. You’re the toughest. You see depth as weakness. You see sensitivity as imperfection. If growing up means that I grow a stone heart, then I rather remain as I am.