《Chronicles of an Older Sister》


 Day 1: I started?

    If anyone reads this, just know, I am just like any of you.


    Maybe not exactly, but comparable considering our shared biology and the fact that we all inhabit this planet. Point is, I know logically that I am a person too. But when I think about what makes me a person, what really ties me to this species, I''m at a loss.


    I sound like I''m coming down with a horrible case of chuunibyou behavior.


    So I don''t know who''s on the other side of this screen, if anyone is there, and I don''t know what you''re like, or who you really are. For all I know, you could be my teacher, my doctor, or maybe a prostitute living a few streets down. Regardless of who you are, I''d like you to know who I am.


    Kind of.


    So anonymity is something pretty big for me. I''ve always liked the feeling of being able to say anything, do anything, and not have to care about my image as I move through life. As I''m writing this, it''s dawning on me that it probably has something to do with the carefully curated image I''m supposed to have according to my family. This is heavy stuff, let''s leave that for later.


    A few things about me: I''m in high school, a pretty decent student. I love to read, anything and everything so anyone reading this, feel free to drop some recommendations. I have a few other things I like to do, not that I''m any good at them. Oh, and obviously, as per the title, I am an older sister.


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    Now you may be asking, why did I describe myself as an older sister? Even if you weren''t thinking that, great question! I call myself an older sister because firstly, I don''t know how to define myself without it being in relation to someone else, and secondly, if I had to go down as something, it would be as an older sister to my little sister.


    I am a daughter, and a granddaughter, and a friend, but out of all of these relationships, the one I think is the most sacred is the one I have with my younger sister. She''s only three and half years younger than me, barely a teenager, and the biggest pain in my life. Sometimes, I genuinely cannot tell if I love her with every fiber of my meager existence, or if I loathe her so much I wish I disappeared to be free of her. But out of everyone, despite her terrible, terrifying personality, she is the only one I would die for.


    Super long segway aside: I''m writing this as a form of betterment. I''ve lost all direction in my life, which sounds really cringe when I write it. I don''t know where I''m headed. I want to die, but know I can''t, because honestly, what''s wrong with me anyways to even think about it? I''m an old soul, just waiting to fizzle out, in a young body. I''m not remarkable in any way. I''m not particularly pretty, nor am I some kind of genius. The one thing I''m known for is for being much more mature than my age calls for. I used to think having a reputation like that was cause for celebration. I guess you can hate your past self even more, because I certainly did when I realized that excessive maturity makes you an outcast, a pariah if you will. I feel like I''m in a state of limbo, caught between adulthood and childhood. I''m not a kid, but I''m not an adult. I don''t fit in, so I kill myself trying, only for my pride to stop me before I can commit.


    Maybe this is me looking for solace, in the eyes of strangers across electrical signals and bright screens and changes in time and setting and mood and every single stupid difference in all of our small pathetic lives.


    I''ve challenged myself: Write something, anything, every day until you feel ready to let it all go. So every day (I''ll try?) henceforth, I''ll bare a bit of my soul out into the world, regardless of who sees it, or who doesn''t see it. Maybe I''ll go years and years without a single view, which is honestly likely because who wants to read a glorified journal?


    To anyone who sees this, to you, my pillars of morality.


    I hope that by the end of this, you can call me Human.

 Day 2: So I may be coming down with something...

    Um... hello?


    I''ve realized that I write this kind of like a letter, which honestly I don''t hate. Also the concept behind this whole thing seems terribly romantic when you look at it like this, I mean, come on, writing letters anonymously to people you don''t know, even if you can''t see them, straight out of some tragic romance novel.


    Or maybe I''m giving myself too much credit. You know what, yeah probably.


    Regardless, good morning, or evening, or night, or whenever you see this. For me it''s about noon as I begin typing this out. I''m only a high schooler, remember this, so don''t get too mad trying to decipher my god-awful grammar.


    I had to get a vaccine the other day. That''s not the issue. The issue is that I still haven''t gotten better when I got the vaccine like three days ago! That''s not the full extent of it though. After I got my vaccine, I decided that I was going to be fine, so I decided I would go for the first sleepover I have ever been on in 16 years of living at someone else''s house. The thing is, I was just kind of tagging along with my sister, because the family whose house we were at had two daughter also about our age. I don''t think their older daughter, who actually goes to the same school as I do by the way, wanted me there, because she was all too happy to avoid talking to me whenever possible.


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    I think at this point I should be used to having people not really like me. I''ve mentioned already that I''m not particularly attractive. I guess my face doesn''t have that mysterious harmony that other people''s faces do. I''m also not very fit. I don''t hate my body, how could I? I think my thoughts on my body are kind of like that of society''s. Sometimes, I hate that I''m not built enough to wear body-con dresses without tires of fat spilling out, but then other times I like that my body has curves, that my thighs are squishy. I''m just a teenager realizing sexuality, realizing that their figure will never be good enough for proper society, but it''s more than enough for freaky magazines.


    That''s honestly kind of depressing.


    Anyways, the real problem with me, and something I''m definitely not going to do anything to fix: my personality. Evidently, as is gathered by my barely two chapter work of writing, I''m a bit unhinged. My mind seems like some kind of deranged circus tent. I''m a horrible person, complete with all the vices of humanity, but I always feel the need to present myself as something better. Most of the time it happens subconsciously, I don''t mean to be some kind of saint, because frankly I''m more likely to be an apostle of some demonic deity than a god.


    God is also a bit of a subject. I don''t know if I should get into that.


    I''m really bad at writing things in a way that makes sense.


    Well, um... as the title said, I think I''m coming down with a cold or something. I''m currently chugging water to stop my throat from feeling worse.


    I lied. I had one glass so far and it''s almost noon.


    I''m going to get some more water.

 Day 3: The ever-elusive motivation.

    Hi again!


    If you''ve actually read this far, thank you. I think I''m warming up to the idea of having people peeking into my life every day like neighbors through a window.


    I''m still pretty awkward though.


    Well then, my pillars of morality, how fare thee? Seriously, feel free to let me know. I think I''m doing well today. Any thoughts of self-eradication have been successfully tucked away in the very back of my mind, and nothing seems like a glaring blight on my existence at the moment. It''s a nice day.


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    Well, as you can tell from the title, I thought I would talk a bit about motivation, or more accurately, my lack thereof. I guess I could be considered something of a gifted kid, but the title itself has never made much sense to me. Why am I gifted, because I grasp concepts at school a little better, because I can read books a little faster? That doesn''t mean I''m a genius, or special because I see these people around me, who are so dedicated and vibrant and beautiful, and I wonder, am I the gifted one, or is it everyone around me who is special.


    That aside, I was always considered a gifted kid. But gifted kids tend to burn out, especially once they get older and moody. I don''t have any kind of motivation outside of not wanting to slip up. So I don''t try anymore.


    It''s funny that academic success is a measure of whether someone''s life is going well. I''ve found that when you do well in school, people tend not to ask if your life is going well. I''ve had friends joke about getting such low grades that they were told to stay after class to discuss their home lives, and each and every time it made me feel bitter. My life is something I can''t complain about, I''m given so much, but in exchange I''m expected to do so much.


    I wish I knew what to do.