My sister is a mess. I love her to death, but she is a mess.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Ultimately, I'm a mess. I don't mean I'm a mess, like, emotionally - I mean, I think probably everybody's a mess. David's a mess. But. I'm talking about... I'm messy.
I'm super-sensitive when it comes to my sister. I've been known to snap off a little bit behind her.
A sister is the one person you can call in the middle of the night when you can't sleep or the one who doesn't want to hear about your problems unless you're ready to do something about them. She's the one who is there when you need her or the one whose absence when you need her hurts the most.
This life is messy.
I bring to my life a certain amount of mess.
The thing with me is, I'm both untidy and I hate mess. But I'm not untidy in communal spaces, like living rooms. My bedroom is havoc.
My sister and I truly are best friends.
I have two sisters, and we are the best of friends.
Is solace anywhere more comforting than that in the arms of a sister.
I'm the messiest person I know.