you could use being more like your hero

"I was the one who wanted to be an artist."

Then she sighed in a way that broke my heart and turned to walk a way.
... But I grabbed her arm and tried not to cry. I told her that what she just said broke me and that it had been years since someone else did the breaking. I felt stupid, but I started to cry. I think Humility had finally pushed out some tears in me. I suddenly saw myself sitting there, with nothing together and I didn't know who to call.

So I did it.

I told her I wanted her to be an artist. The artist ever so badly. I guess my pride melted to my ankles because I cried and told her that as I had gotten everything I've ever wanted I did look behind and ache for her. I always wanted you right there behind me, I said. To be as close to your sunshine as possible and hope that a little of your laughter would make my world light.
But to feel for you was a lot harder than to keep kicking the dirt in your face.
I couldn't do it.

But now I realize how backwards I've been swimming. 

You've been doing all the pedaling and now I want you to have it. Take it. All of it. Take my paint, take my voice, take my toes, my hands, take dad's love and all of it.

Now the way she looked at me was like a hug. And I even might have gotten one. I could've held her and told her I thought she was so beautiful. I never thought she was fat. I never meant those things I said about the scars on her face. And, I told her, every time I listened to anyone hurt you I sat on my bed and soaked my lap with tears. Through all of my cruelty, I somehow still felt more for you than I did for me. And January has made me realize that if 3 days were my only warning of dying, that you would be my biggest regret. That I didn't love you the way I should. The way I so wanted to. I've just been jealous of your sunshine, I told her. I love you, I told her. I have loved you all this time, I would have told her.
But I never did. I so so wish I did.

She looked over my shoulder and sighed. "I was the one who wanted to be an artist." But I just sat there. Beating and sweating as she moved further from me.
My room held me that night as I cried.

I've been a coward all along. Still a coward, full of pride.