The dark corner of the room

The dark corner part I: Clara

Tyla is my little sister. She wakes every morning crying. She wakes up, sit on her specific chair in the living room, and start crying. I am starting to think there is something in that chair that makes her cry. She cries before she kisses good morning to mom. Well, she doesn't kiss mom good morning, she kisses no one good morning. 

I am starting to think about moving the chair. Does she hate the living room arrangements ? Does she hate the colors of the walls? Did she have bad dreams ? Does she have bad dreams every day? Tyla worries me. What worries me the most is that she never talks to me, or to anyone for that matter. Man, I am 10 years older than her, but I am sure I wasn't like that 10 years ago when I was her age.

She is 10 years old now. She never say a word, I know she can speak. She can speak so well, so fast if she wanted to. She does speak when she wants to. Yes, she is a very odd child. I don't understand her, I am not sure anyone does. My parents give her the utmost freedom they never gave anyone. She can skip school if she wanted to, and parents wouldn't be concerned. (Well she doesn't skip any, good for them). She sleeps in every day. She even sleeps in on Sunday, and for the record, no one sleeps in on Sunday. Not in my fathers house. But she does. She misses church as she please, in fact, I cannot remember the last time she went to church. I can't tell if my parents don't care, if they just don't want her to make her cry again. 

Man, this kid cry so much. She cries so damn much. She doesn't make any loud noises, scream or throw a tantrum. There is a way she does her things. like how she cries every morning. You tell her something she doesn't want to hear, she looks you in the eyes, not like in your eyes, but like INSIDE. She has big eyes, and when she looks at you for more than four seconds, you know she is going to cry. She looks at you as she cries. She hold the gaze so tight. She looks down into your soul, and somehow transfers the pain. She stares deep with her big teary eyes, and let you see her fall apart. She stands there and __just cries, like she did yesterday, and the day before, and most of the days of her life. 

She makes you wander what you did wrong, what you could have done different. She makes your mind run a marathon chasing what to say to make things right as she stand still in front of you. I never know what to say to her. I have screamed at her many times, it didn't help. I kindly and angrily ask her what she wants me to do, she says__nothing. 

She asks "can I just go in my room?" and that, ladies and gentlemen, might be the first thing you might hear her say in the morning when she wakes up.