They Never Gave Me One Inch

An inch. One lousy inch. But that one inch was the difference between me needing psychotherapy and her being successful and...yeah, I know, it shouldn't matter but it always has and always will. I rubbed my fingers over the pencil strokes on the wall, Gillian had always been ahead, taller in so many ways, better at everything; except love.

How can Gillian's third divorce be shrugged off by Mum and Dad yet when I get promoted all they show is a feigned interest. My psychotherapist says I should have nothing to do with my family, move away, start a new life. It's tempting. But maybe I'm as addicted to my lack of self worth as Gillian is to praise.

No-one saw it coming: Gillian's suicide.

But even that never mattered in the long run. A corpse is still more important to my parents than a body filled with flowing blood. They never gave me one inch.