My little sister graduated high school today.
I'm all teary-eyed just typing that up.
Growing up, my sister and I never really had the best of relationships. I'd bully her, and she'd retaliate; it was more often than not a tumultuous whirlwind of pulled hair and name calling and crescent-shaped scars where nails dug into skin. But for every shouting match, there were two more instances of laughing about the stupidest things, or playing with Hot Wheels and Legos, or constructing a fort of pillows and blankets and stuffed bears in the narrow space that separated the twin beds in our shared room.
Our home-life has never been the best, and as middle child, my sister often bore the brunt of that. She's getting help now, for which I am so grateful, but I can't help but wonder sometimes about what would have happened if I had tried harder, if I had been a better sister and stuck up for her more, called my parents out for playing favorites. I know it's not my fault, but sometimes I can't help but feel that it is. I look at her arms, all riddled with pink scars and I can't help but feel that each one is a result of something I could have prevented.
Growing up was tough, needless to say. But as we got older, we've also gotten much closer. I also find it a mark of irony that, just like me two years ago, she didn't even know if she was going to end up graduating.
But she made it! And I am so happy and proud and relieved and a bunch of other things I can't even describe right now.
I'm also bawling my eyes out.
I don't even know if she'll ever read this. But I'm gonna say this anyway:
Jessica, I love you so much and I'm so glad you're my sister. Kick some ass and take names in college and beyond.
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