Dear Diary,

 

I wish I felt guilt

instead of just fear

to be someone good

to avoid their piercing leers

 

Drizella and I were never very close

Though we did everything together

I wanted another sister

Until I finally found her

 

She was beautiful.

She was kind.

She had so much talent.

She had everything I wanted to be mine.

 

Mother never loved her,

And I suppose neither did I

But she always excelled

At anything I would try

 

I could never carry a tune

Not even one single bit

But of course her voice was lovely

And I found myself sick of it

 

I did feel bad for her

And I knew what mother did was wrong

But a monster was growing inside me

I felt it clawing at me all day long

 

Do you ever feel such a burning hatred that it sears your eyes?

But instead of fire, all you can do is cry.

 

I thought I hated her with every inch of my being.

I hated her stupid voice and her puny feet 

Everything about her made my lungs seize up

But it was mostly her kindness, which I never saw inside of me.

 

I never hated her. Not once.

It was myself that I hated, 

and every bit of me that I knew would never compare to her.

 

I knew I was ugly, but what I had hoped

Was that putting her down would help me stay afloat.

 

Who would choose talentless, ugly, cruel Anastasia 

When her much prettier and kinder step-sister was there?

How was I supposed to live like that?

How on Earth could I ever compare?

 

But the thing that sickened me most was this

In adversity and depression, I became so cruel.

She, though, would continue being wonderful

And there was nothing else I could do.

 

I lost control

I ruined her dress

I stamped out her hopes

I made her life a mess

 

Now she is queen, of course

Because there is no end to her perfection.

Yet I still sit here pathetically

Wallowing in self-hate and depression.

 

I regret it so much, everything I did to her

I never liked to hurt, quite the opposite really

It just came so much easier than kindness to me

 

She could imprison me if she wanted.

She could feed me to the bears.

But  I know she won't do that.

Though I never did, she cared.

 

When you tell your children of this tale

I will always be the villain.

I am the example of unbridled jealousy.

I was a lifestyle from which to abstain.

 

Whoever is reading this,

You and I will never meet.

Do not feel pity for what I wrote.

My life ended the day they put that glass slipper on her tiny little feet.

 

Life has taught me a cruel lesson.

I have been left with nothing. 

I beg you to heed my story with caution.

Do not spend your life in wanting.

 

Sincerely Yours,

Anastasia Tremaine