My life be like
Updated: Mar 25
Let me bore you a little and talk about myself for a moment.
(Now is your time to leave and read something else instead.)
I am the middle child in a sisterhood of three. Basically, it means that my sisters used to team up in order to make my life as complicated as could be. For example, I remember being accused and summoned by my father for hurting my younger sister even though I was peacefully playing in my room… on the opposite side of the apartment (I was around 10, she was 5 and yes, I can hold a grudge). These kind attentions we are given from time to time usually happen when you have siblings.
Curiously enough, even when being three looked like a whole lot of emotions, we all wished we had a brother somehow. Each of us had her own reasons but we agreed on the following: we needed someone to arbitrate our disagreements that was not a parent but still could take my older sister down (that of course is a tiny detail I would have never dreamed of mentioning in front of the aforementioned) and, of course, a fourth player for a card game we used to love.
I dare say that each and every one of us has, at least once, thought about what life would be like if they had a sibling or if they were an only child, depending on their actual situation of course. The problem is that, in any case, our personalities and lives would have been completely different but we would still be wondering about the grass on the other side. In my own experience, growing up with someone around my age, even though my sisters’ preteen and toddler years overlapped at some point, was both a blessing and a curse.
On the one hand, I was able to learn by example and make notes of how I should behave later in life, which, by the time I was going out with friends was especially useful in order to get extra points for arriving earlier than expected. Meanwhile, I could hold on to my younger self and play with my other sister while trying to be the other role model in her life. Do not get your hopes up, it did not end as planned: she admires the other and loves to make fun of me.
On the other hand, my older sister turned out to be the perfect child: best marks, most athletic, outstanding achievements and surrounded by friends. As always, the youngest is the family’s baby, nothing she could have done would be regarded as bad. Four years ago, I had an amazing conversation with her; she told me that, at first, she was scared of never being able to be as accomplished as our older sister but, thanks to me, now she knows she can do anything she wants and still never be the worst of us.
It may not seem like it at first glance but my family and I are a strangely funny set of characters. As far as I am concerned, the running joke I am a cheerful victim of is, as you can tell, that nobody wants me around. Or at all, for that matter. The other day I could hear my mother and sister laughing in my mother’s bedroom and since I was bored and wanted attention, but mostly because that is just who I am, I started singing ABBA songs with lyrics that could very well have been taken out of a Sims game. To this day I still do not understand why I am the laughingstock of my family.