I’ve always cared about my younger brothers. Even when I was a kid. I may be a girl, but I still feel a deep desire to protect them.
My middle brother used to get bullied in elementary school. Even back then, as a preteen, I wanted to kill someone. He was the quiet, nerdy type. He’s intelligent, extremely intelligent. Always looking at the technical side of things. The type to tell you about how a patch in Smash gave Samus’s up-b two less frames or something like that. Makes sense why he’d gravitate towards computers and coding. He doesn’t have any friends. That scares me. He doesn’t know how to open up, keeps himself on constant guard. Head down, eyes to the ground. I think people scare him. I wish he’d be more confident.
My youngest brother never got hurt like that. (Not as far as I know. He’s always been pretty secretive.) He was lively, outgoing, so people gravitated towards him. And yet sometimes, I think he felt lonely. Being a class clown might be fun once in a while, but not when you wanna make meaningful connections. Sometimes I get worried about whether they’re laughing with him or at him. It seems like he always wants to keep people laughing and happy, so when he’s feeling down he closes himself off. Locks himself away. I wish he’d be more honest with himself.
I love them so much. They’re the only two people I’d be worried about after I end it all. I was never a good big sister. I pretended to be, but I think I was more annoying than anything else. Nosy, nagging, frustrating. I piss off my middle brother the most. Always have. Even when he was a baby. He hated hugs as a baby. He’d hit me when I tried to. It was smothering to him. Even now he avoids hugs at family gatherings. My youngest brother doesn’t get angry, just pushes me away. Acts civil but distant. Somehow, that feels worse.
It hurts like hell when it happens, but maybe I deserve it. They deserve better than me. They’ll probably never say so though. Did they just get used to me? Is this shitty person what they’ve come to expect from me? I tried to play the big sister roll, but came up short. I’m not someone they should look up to.
I’ll miss them when it happens. And I’ll know they’ll miss me. It’s going to hurt them, but I have to. Give them a few more years and they’ll learn to hate me. Everyone. It’s selfish, but I’d rather not watch everyone in my life grow to despise me. I’d rather I die giving off the illusion that I was a good person. I’d rather die knowing they loved me. I know that’s selfish, but the fear of abandonment has always been a crippling phobia for me. I’m sorry they have to lose me, even though they will ultimately be better off. Not emotionally, but still better off.
I suppose this thought process doesn’t make sense to you. That’s okay. I wouldn’t be able to explain my reasoning even if I tried. There’s something wrong with my head. It’s something evil, I’m certain. People don’t think evil exists, but I see it every day. It’s a thing that only craves destruction and pain for the sake of enjoyment. Sometimes it will find more “sympathetic” reasons to do harm, but the intentions are always the same. A selfish person hiding behind selfless acts.
My poor little brothers.
It hurts to write this.
Why did I have to be born?
Why did it have to be me who was their big sister?
Why didn’t my mother abort me?
She should have just listened to the doctor.
Now look what happened!