Sisterly Affection

My relationship with my sister has always been a forced one. From the beginning, she was handled much differently than I was. My parents had long-awaited a child, and difficulties arose that deemed natural conception an almost impossible route. The pregnancy that would lead to my birth had been aided by doctors. Halfway through my incubation period, my mom started bleeding, and my survival chance was miniscule, as they were told. Obviously, I survived, but the struggle left my parents scarred, and they decided to stop. A little over a year after I was born, however, a miracle occurred. My mom was pregnant again, and this time without any help. I was no longer the youngest, and that small factor would change the way my family functioned. Nothing would have prepared me for what was to come next.

Being the youngest, my sister quickly contracted what is commonly known as “Youngest Child Syndrome.” She became a bossy, controlling toddler under whose commands I was impulsively willing to submit. My easy-going spirit perfectly counteracted her dominance. As I grew older, however, I began to resent my compliance, and, rather than trying to change my attitude, I turned my anger to my sister. I became a simmering soul; the slightest word or smallest action could trigger my bad mood. I was annoyed at my sister for her sheer luck at being born later, and I was angry at my parents for letting her become what I saw as a ruthless child. I was relentless. As a result, the times my sister and I spend together became especially cautious on her part. She was unaware of the roots of my anger, but nevertheless tiptoed around me as if I were a ticking bomb.

As we grew older, my tendency to explode lessened considerably, and my anger ...

... middle of paper ...

.... Instead of simply being a sister, I became another guardian – always watching. Similarly to my demeanor when I was younger, I let my anger consume me. This time, however, it would be directed at a different source. My already-fragile bond with my sister nearly capsized. She absolutely hated me for the spite-filled words I threw harshly at this boy of hers. She completely resented my involvement in her relationship.

Even now, I regret my actions. With the intentions of scaring the boy away from my sister, I instead simply threw her farther into his arms and farther away from any potential we had for a relationship. Regardless of my endless apologies, I still have not gained back the trust that I so severely damaged. Understandably, she remains angry. I have been trapped – trying to navigate a way out of the depths of my sister’s hatred. When does it end?