a letter for my sister

Dear Lauren,

 I have been meaning to write this letter for quite some time now. But before I could even attempt to put my feelings into words, I had to be sure I had it all figured out. Forgive me for not speaking to you about this in person, but I am far better at writing about what I’m feeling than talking about it.
 
I know that our relationship has not been very good lately. This is mostly my fault. I’m not sure what your take on the situation is. Mom and Dad have always told me that you look up to me. But I have always disagreed with them – and I still do. They insist that my perception of the situation is incorrect, and maybe it is. But I don’t know how to change it. When you are around, I feel young, insignificant and uneducated. I feel like you see me as a narrow-minded simpleton with no understanding or appreciation for anything academic or cultural. I walk on egg shells around you because I never know what I might say that might trigger one of your condescending looks or remarks. For a long time I thought that you were smarter than me; now I understand that we are simply educated about different things. Ask me anything about id impulses or Erikson’s psychoanalytic stages and I can probably answer you. But nobody ever does ask, so I keep my mouth shut.
 
This has been worse for me since Aunt Ella died. Aunt Ella was the one person in my life, aside from my closest friends, who saw me. She was the one person who was just as proud of me as she was of you. She always made a point of asking me about school: wanting to know what kinds of classes I was taking, how well I was doing, what I planned to do once I was finished. Everyone else asks me as a passing thought: “Oh, Amy, you’re still in school right? How’s that going?” Now that Aunt Ella is gone, I am completely and irreversibly invisible.
 
The fact is that I haven’t done anything great like you have. I have more mistakes to my name than I have accomplishments. I haven’t studied or lived anywhere other than New Jersey. I’ve been working entry-level jobs since I was 16 years old. I feel like this is what people see when they look at me. I feel like this image is what defines me to everyone else. Some days I wake up and feel like the failure that everyone always knew I was. I feel like you, specifically, still see me as a failure – the way you did so many years ago.
 
I have turned my life around 100%. I am 12 credits away from a BA in Psychology and a major promotion at DYFS. I now understand the concept of financial security and the responsibility that comes with adulthood. But somehow, this isn’t enough. I’m still nothing compared to you. I’m still invisible, a phantom in the room. 
 
Please understand that I am well aware of the fact that my feelings of insignificance are my own fault. I know that I shouldn’t take my frustrations out on you. Part of me is jealous of you: you are living a life I could have lived if I hadn’t made the wrong decisions when I was 18 and foolish. Those choices forced me to move in a direction that was neither interesting nor rewarding and I’m shouldering the weight of these choices as best I can.
 
You have no idea how much it hurts me when you and Mom and Dad suggest that I move somewhere else. I was never aware of the fact that everyone thought I was “stuck in a rut” until that night at the dinner table when Dad made it painfully clear to me. And here, all this time, I was thinking I was doing so well. I often feel like no one has noticed what I’ve accomplished in the past 4 years. I also feel like no one appreciates that I want to be close to my family…because, in the end, they’re the only ones that really matter.
 
I have spent the past 4 years struggling to define myself in terms of the incredible changes I’ve made in my life. But I can’t seem to escape the stigma that has been attached to me since I left Longwood 8 years ago. Just once, I want someone to listen to me, gush over how proud they are of me. Just once I wish that someone would take as keen an interest in MY life as they all do for yours.
 
I know that these feelings are, for the most part, unfounded. And I hope that you know that despite everything, I love you. I love you so much it hurts. And I can’t even fathom spending the rest of my life regretting things I’d never had the strength to tell you. I am ridiculously proud of you. I just want you to be proud of me, too. I want you to want to talk to me and hang out with me. I want us to be friends, not just sisters.
 
I know that you’re smart and careful, but I am consumed with worry for you now that you’re in Florence. I never said anything to you about it because I wasn’t sure how you’d take it. I didn’t want you to think I was just trying to rain on your parade. My worry stems simply from loving you and having your best interests at heart, not from anything more malicious. I don’t think you’re stupid or naïve. I just want my baby sister to come home safely. 
 
You don’t have to reply to this if you don’t want to. I know that you’re going to be busy with school and trips, and I want you to do well. I just needed you to know how I’ve been feeling. And that even though I really am the biggest bitch alive…I love you. And I hope you love me, too.
 
-Amy