i was selfish.

no one knew it but me.

i never let her touch me, not even to hold my hand.

she used to always say what a wonderful and compassionate daughter i was, but i was selfish.

there were always little things she would do that annoyed me. Like clicking her fingernails, or singing a song she didn't know, or trying to hum with me.

I was selfish, and I knew it. But she kept smiling.

She used to try to hold my hand during a movie, and i would always shrug her off.

I used to tell her I didn't like being touched, then run and hug my father.

I don't know why i did it.

It felt normal, like I was doing nothing wrong.

I never knew how much it hurt her when I said she couldn't come watch my tennis matches.

Or walked out the door without saying bye.

Or didn't let her hold my hand.

But I was selfish, and, had I known, would I have even cared?

And now as I stand here, looking at the cold darkness of the hole that is to be her resting place,

I am still selfish when it come to her.

I won't even let her have a tear.