A Princess’ Diary
From the Old and Torn Portfolio
“Princess.” She said.
Me?
Yes, me. I’m a princess.
Her princess.
I always will and have always been her princess since the time I was brought forth into this world to the present. I have known her since I have began to make memories and she has known me since I was a mere infant, perhaps even before that. As embarrassing as it may sound, she has known all of my flaws and strengths. And she never failed at reminding me of those fond memoirs we shared together.
“Remember when…” Those were the hints of mischief and I would instantly mimic the color of claret wine whenever she would reminisce. The fact that she had seen me in my vulnerable innocence back then was discomforting enough, but she would always tease me about it, much to my chagrin.
“…you were three and you always clung to my shirt wherever we went? You were so scared of parting with me that mom and dad had to ask for permission from my teacher to allow you to attend the class with me because you wouldn’t let me go…”
Ah, yes. That day when she had to go to school for the first day of classes. I had followed her into her designated classroom and sat beside her, more like, snuggled up to her in her seat because I was afraid of curious eyes peering at me. It was the start of my hatred for other people’s attention, but in my three year old mind back then, I would be fine as long as I held on to her.
“Oh, and that time when…” I rolled my eyes upon hearing the rest of her monologue. Must she remind me of my f
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