"Come on let's runaway," my secret sister would say.
My other half. My conscience. My insider.
No one knows me like my secret sister.
My secret sister knows me better than I know myself.
Nothing has to be said because my secret sister knows my thoughts.
Although my insecurities are tucked deep inside, my secret sister knows all my flaws.
Everything between us is confidential and no judgement is present.
My abnormalities accepted; my quirkiness commended.
I wish people understood me like my secret sister does.
When I weep, my secret sister weeps. When I rejoice my secret sister rejoices.
"Yes. Let's runaway secret sister. Never look back."