I’m jealous of people who have a relationship with their sisters, with their siblings. I see my friends – who once hated their siblings in that rivalry we all had – grow close to them as we hit our late twenties. Their sisters are their best friends. I want that, want it so desperately it makes me sick with an angry jealousy that I can’t have that. That I never will.
I know what you want to say to me. I know you’ll say “Give it time”, that you’ll tell me that “while she’s alive there is still hope”, that “she can get clean again”. But she’s crossed so many lines this time.
She’s sold her body to strange men. She’s done tik. You think heroin is bad until you meet tik. Tik is mean, it’s nasty, it’s violent and it’s no-holds-barred addictive. She hears voices now. She says she’s psychic. The only voices she hears tell everyone is talking shit about her.
I used to look up to her my sister. As a child I idolised her.
I don’t know when this changed but it did. I became afraid of her. Angry with her.
She’s dual diagnosis. Perhaps that’s something I should have mentioned from the start. She’s Borderline and Bipolar. Add in some addiction and you never know who you’re going to get,
I decided not to have children of my own because of my sister. Because if they ended up like her – a strung out addict who loves drugs more than her own family – I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. With them.
I pretend I’m ok, but I’m not.
I miss my sister and I want her back. I want a built-in best friend for life. I want someone I can look up to. Someone who can guide me. I want to not have to be The Perfect One, the child my parents can feel they didn’t fuck up. I want a sister. I want a normal sister relationship.
And I’ll never have that.