There's something wrong with me.
I don't feel things I'm supposed to feel and that alone is disturbing if my Mother knew about it I might be living in a Mental Facilities or something like that and constantly talking to some shrink common name as Doctors.
When I was Eleven Poopy died his a dog and it made Danielle cried for almost two days straight it's so annoying that I told her if I ever hear her sob one last time I'm going to burn her whole closet with her pretty clothes inside and that made her wail even more, I don't get it why would she cry just for a little dog when Poopy is just her pet for two days since his a gift from our Granny Em for her eleventh birthday which is two days ago when that happened, actually it's our birthday since we're twins and it make me have a legal right for that puppy too and I don't like having a dog in our house and that's why I fed him with some insecticide for rodent I forget the name but it's effective since two hours after Poopy ate the sandwich I made for him Dani found him dead.
I didn't told a single soul about that not because I'm afraid but because I don't want to argue about my rights I have a say about that puppy since he's mine and I don't like him so that's what I did.
Dani slept outside our room that night and I didn't able to burn her clothes but I destroy her favorite pink dress it take a week for her to notice that dress and she cried more than she cried when Poopy died.
From that moment I realize other people will never see my logic the way I see them so I kept them and pretend that I think the same way they did.
Until now that I'm Eighteen.