a letter to my sister

Dear Sam

There are so many things that I want to tell you, but never did. I hope that one day I’ll find the silly courage to tell you in person, how much you mean to me. But for now, I guess a ‘letter’ on my blog would suffice. I know there is a very remote chance that you’ll read this, but I’ll go ahead anyway.

You have no idea how proud I am of you, and how fortunate I am to have you as my sister. I don’t know if these feelings are mutual. But I guess it is ok if what you feel is quite contrary. I understand.

Thinking all the way back till when my memory allows, I cannot help but smile. These memories were sometimes unpleasant, as it would have been the case then. But they were the building blocks for our sisterhood. What mattered then, don’t quite matter now actually. Because you are never petty, unlike the petty girl I could be.

You were never a liability to me, as much as I would lament about how I had to keep a watchful eye on you. It was my real pleasure in fact, to be able to have done all those things for you. You were my little sister, the baby of the family. Who would watch out for you? No one else, but I would. And if we could turn back time, I would’ve done the same. Except that I would refrain from hurting you, like how I unintentionally did then.

I know you had it tough in secondary school. Very tough actually. Sometimes I wished I reached out to you then, so you wouldn’t be so sad and alone. So that you never had to shed so much tears. But on hindsight, I too wasn’t coping well, with secondary school life. I was too consumed with the peculiar complexities of adolescence. I struggled, and of course, it didn’t  cross my mind that you too, were struggling. I wish I was there for you to tell you that everything’s gonna be ok. But I didn’t, and you came out of it stronger anyway.

I know that at different points of our lives, I must’ve said and/or done some things which hurt you. I know I definitely did hurt you. I am aware that I can be a real jerk sometimes, and exceedingly detestable. But you are my little sister, and if I had the knowledge, wisdom or maturity then, to know that what I’m doing is hurtful… I’d halt right in my tracks. Really.

I’ve never quite told you this, but I was secretly envious of you. I still envy you today, admittedly. You might think that I’m a little mad. But no. I am not. Because you are something I wish I was. Not necessarily everything about you though. It is this subtle tenacity and resilience that you encompass. And perhaps to an extent, your intelligence. Other people may not see it. But I do. And sometimes I wished that I could have your strengths, even if it’s just a puny part of it.

You are smarter than I am. Prettier than I am. A lot more likeable than I am. You can take so much shit, more than what I can take, I believe. You are more rational too. You have a boyfriend whom you’ve been with for 2.5 years; you actually have someone in your life who actually gives a damn about you. You are so full of potential, so capable. You took a risk when you followed my advice to follow your dreams. Look where you are right now? You are on your way, my dear. You have everything going for you.

So proud of you, Sam. So darn proud of you.

I know that sometimes, I annoy you. I refuse to get off your back. And I’d like to tell you that if you don’t heed my advice, you will be at the losing end. I know I have been going on and on for years on end, with different topics. I actually heave a sigh of relieve when you do heed my advice. But when you don’t, I have the urge to shake some sense into you. Not because I’m obnoxious or some control freak. But because I’ve been there and done that, and I do not want you to feel the way I did. And if I still do not get off your back after a few years, I wish you’d understand how much pain i was in, physically or mentally, that I’ll never ever wish it upon you.

Thus far, I’m sorry meow. I guess I haven’t been good enough a sister to you. You my dear are in physical pain, and yet nothing is being done. You don’t deserve to be in pain, meow. You don’t, and I wish I had actually dragged you to the doctor’s. I know that you are afraid. I know you don’t want to be like me, condemned to a life of pain, downing medications and blood tests. I know meow. I know hard it is for you. And if I could do anything to take away the pain, i would. But I can’t. It’s ok if it hurts me. But it isn’t ok if it hurts you, Sam.

I know that I’ve been rather bullish and persistent about your weight, my dear. But I want you to know that I never ever took you as my competition, and neither have I sought solace from the fact that I weigh a little lesser than you now. In fact, my heart aches so much that you are now in a position that I was in for many years. It wasn’t supposed to happen, but I guess I didn’t try hard enough yet again as your sister. I hear about how people around you are making those ‘fat’ comments. And I know you felt the same way as I did, even though you deny it. I don’t want you to feel as lousy and miserable as I did, you know. I don’t want you to be hurt.

I’m so sorry that I’ve been such a burden since I fell into depression. I never wanted to impose on you, but you are the only one in the family who is at an arm’s length away. The rest of them just seemed so distant, so out of reach. And you were the only one who would understand. I wish you never had to take calls from me telling you that I am in the hospital again, and again. I imagine it must’ve felt terrible. Very terrible. And I will assure you that you won’t have to go through that anymore. Because you are my sister, and being 2 years younger than I am, you shouldn’t have to fret about me.

I am sorry too, to be so absent from your life when you needed someone to be by your side. I know that you were so sad when he was leaving to serve the nation. And although I have never experienced such separation, I could see and feel your pain. I wish I could be there with you to wipe away your tears. I wish I could give you a bear hug when you are feeling so alone. And I wish I could whisper into your ear, that everything’s gonna be ok.

Whatever happens, I love you all the same, Sam. And I hope that for as long as we live, you’ll hold onto my pinky finger when we are walking side by side, like we always do. Nevermind the perspiration.

With love


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