How I hated my sister

I hated my sister. She’s so perfect, she reminded me of everything that I was not. She’s taller, perfect almond skin color, honey eyes that entice men- one time I heard my crush tell her that he could get lost in her eyes- asshole! She smiled and laughed so deeply, was contagiously bubbly.

Very often, I compared myself to her. It started as an innocent habit, then it became a conscious competition, and then it turned into a secret hatred. To me we were sworn enemies in a battle and her weapon against me were her amazing features and very flawless attitude. I would attack her with everything within grab. I wanted her to die, I wanted her to disappear, I wanted bad things to happen to her. How could she have perky perfectly round breasts, bouncy buttocks like Jenifer Lopez, nicely carved stomach like Ciara, 27inches waistline and very long curly hair? She sang better than snow white, had the dancing energy of Beyonce and the body movements of a Latino dancer, the last time she had pimples was never. People always remembered to gift her, she never lacked company or help. Why would she? She’s the better one.

I was left with a straight banana body, voice of a sick swollen frog with a very high pitch- yes, imagine the disaster to the ears. I had a stick for a body, couldn't bend it. I barely made it to 5ft. My skin color’s between ripe banana skin and beach sand with chocolate patches. My eyes are the color of darkness, some days they look sad and other days they look very tired. Very superficial smile. I barely laughed; no one would want to hear a siren sound for laughter. My hair was coily and stunted.

My sister went on to become an engineer- speak of beauty and brains, huh! She had gotten married two years ago to a man of her dreams- Cinderella’s happily ever after. And I had stayed back down hating her and being the very opposite of everything that she’s. I became a tom boy because I couldn’t compete with her girly sophistication. I could barely keep a relationship, I didn’t even try to- no man would want to stay with me when I wasn’t my sister. I dropped out of school because I didn’t feel smart enough to be in school. My life was a mess and it was all Stephanie’s fault. It was entirely my older sister’s fault.

That’s what I used to think until a few months ago, after Stephanie died. She died in a car crash and her funeral was two months ago. I had always wanted her to die; I had always thought that I would finally get to shine when there is no Stephanie on earth. No Stephanie to look up to, no Stephanie to be compared to, no Stephanie to compete with, no Stephanie to take the attention of all the boys, no Stephanie to make my parents proud, no Stephanie to charm the whole world with her kitchen skills, no Stephanie to make me feel inferior.

The news of her death didn’t make me feel better and neither did the days after her death. I still felt like a loser inside. I still felt inferior but not to Stephanie this time, to everyone. That was when I realized that Stephanie wasn’t my problem, Stephanie wasn’t the problem. I was my problem, I was the problem. I had always looked down on myself, I had been scared of trying, of embracing my uniqueness because I was scared I wouldn’t find any so I settled in looking for all the faults in me. It was easier to be a self chosen failure than to be disappointed. I was scared and I made Stephanie my punching bag. She was innocent all along and I hated her for just being Stephanie, for being my older sister, for being everything I was scared I couldn’t be. I thought she was perfect.

But she wasn’t perfect and I realized that too late. She had a blazing temper, she didn’t know how to make her bed and she hated her toes-one time I heard her call them potatoes but then I thought “yeah, right! Show off”. Stephanie had her insecurities too, she was human and I didn’t get to know her beyond my imaginations. I didn’t get to spend time with her. I didn’t get to learn from her.

And now she’s gone and I wish she wasn’t. I loved her and I didn’t even know it. I didn’t know that I was capable of love. I didn’t know that I was capable of other things. 

I am on a self discovery therapy and I am learning amazing things about me. I am an amazing person and I didn’t even know it. I could have been an amazing baby sister but I didn’t even try.  It was easier to be a hating coward. 

-Uriel