Fifty-Three

When it comes to my sister, my Achilles heel of sorts, I feel like the worst person I can be is alive in her.

As much as it's her fault, her person, her decision, it began a long time ago with me. I'm her root. She's literally a branch of me... where the bad apples grow.

My sister is all the hate, meanness, laziness, stupidity, self-consciousness I ever was. Combined. She is the yelling, the immaturity, the small-mindedness that at one point or another resides in ourselves that we eventually outgrow.

But she's been stunted, you see. No one in my family really knows how to love someone. My parents divorced and are almost entirely bitter towards any idea of cordiality now. My dad has tried to love my sister through gifts. Toys R Us after the split in 3rd grade, Valentine's Day stuffed animals (which I never received), and money to burn as she has gotten older. The youngest is supposed to be spoiled anyway, aren't they? My mom has tried to love her by showing her how much she cares through reprimanding her shortcomings and pushing her in promising directions, but she retains her apathy to even greater heights. And then we come to me-- the older sister. The one who is here to influence her taste in music and inspire her to get good grades in school. But no. Ever since my mom moved out and the one fateful therapist visit where I refused to talk and my sister gave everything away simply because she was too young to understand the concept of sisterhood bonds; i've treated her as she was the dumbest thing to walk the earth. She'll never understand, she'll never be good enough, she's a failure.

After that, it was a competition, to me. But to my sister, it was personal. I see that now. I'd cut her by turning my back on her and now she slumps. She's a weeping willow hiding her wounds behind layers of straightened and dyed pronds. Her hair covering her eyes. Thick eyeliner and waterproof mascara-laden lashes. She's putting on a facade-- it's probably been so long she doesn't realize it anymore. It's that she can't let herself be traumatized again so she's hardened her shell with plastic fakeness. So for all I was striving for in an attempt to better myself from my achievements and fill the void, she'd already adopted another person. I wanted to win and she wanted to be someone else, because I made her feel less than if she was going to be herself.

After all the repetition of my insensitive criticisms, she's begun to believe them, believe me. She'd never admit to it, but all my attempts to get through to her in the last few years have been futile because she is actually, now, what I've told her she was all along.

And it's my fault. She is my greatest failure.