My Lonely Letter to an Older Sister

Dear sister,

I know this is something we'll never talk about, or if we did, you'd take it the wrong way.

That this is something you're...

Simply not built to talk about in the way I so desperately yearn for.

The expectations of things I know are impossible, but scenes that I daydream and fantasize about play in my head, where you just... Listen.

Where you _hear_ me, and see me for who I am rather than the bratty, overdramatic princess who can summon crocodile tears on command…

I know I'm not faultless in this tension shared between us. The underlying animosity... There are things I could do better. Things I'm a hypocrite about. I'll probably say some hypocritical things here. And it's why I won't ever bring this up to you in real life.

You came to me this morning, disregarding the fact I wanted to go back to sleep, prioritizing your need to tell someone about what happened in the yard.

Not talk to, tell.

You knew this was a topic you argue about with me whenever I give my genuine thoughts, and yet you still get annoyed when I gave nothing more than a numb and non-committal yeah... You woke me up, ruined my mood, simply because you wanted to tell something, not someone, about what happened in the yard. 'No one else is awake', 'the story is short', even though it's never been short with you. But you didn't care.

I was an object to project your feelings onto.

It's lonely, having to suffer through your expectations not being met, when it feels like a need.

I get that.

I more than relate to having wrongly placed expectations on how I wished for you to react.

You are you, and I am me.

I should accept how you are just as you should accept me. I should accept that you aren't a super analytic, observant person who can read my mind when what I needed from you was concern instead of anger. That I wanted you to show concern, ask me, 'what's wrong, why have you resorted to this', to actually feel like a little sister in the embrace of a comforting hug from my big sister, but I gave into bad habits due to an extreme amount of built up depression. For you to see the comfort I needed. But instead you were angry. And I get that it was from a place of care, anger that someone you care about is basically hurting themselves. I should've expected that. You are an angry person, after all.

It was wrong of me... To place such expectations on you. It was no fault of your own that I fell apart the way I did after how you reacted. Something we probably share. I just want you to be vulnerable with me, and show me concern rather than anger, just as you'd like me to show a bit more passion and anger against the evilness of this world.

But the thing is...

I can't.

Sometimes, yes, but it's mostly this perpetual sadness I feel for the evilness in this world. If something didn't make them this way, they were born with it, simply never even *given* the chance to feel love or empathy. It doesn't mean I condone their actions, or that I'm not still angry, I just can't summon the feelings of anger, injustice, and righteousness to the extreme that you feel them.

....

I don't know for sure how you see me.

I only know you don't see me the way I want you to. That you don't see or understand the *real* me. And you somehow make me feel guilty for sometimes not missing you. And... I do feel bad. That you kind of don't have many options or people to go to. That you're somewhat friendless like me. That I don't put as much effort into hanging out like I should. But we're so different now. Why do you make me feel bad for not liking what you do? For not having the mental energy or motivation to *find* a common interest? I know you're human, and that feelings can be near impossible to control. It's not your fault you are the way you are. It's why I'll never show you this.

It doesn't make it hurt any less though, the guilt and the yearning for better days. Where we both found some sort of compromise.

I care, so much. I'll never stop caring. You are someone I hold extremely close to my heart.

We are two broken people, who have fractured in completely different ways.