You know when people say sisters are for life? Even though I have a younger sister, I actually never felt the true essence of that saying before.

You see, my sister is four years younger than me, thus there was kind of a generation gap between us. After enjoying four years of being a single child, the gem of the family, the apple of my parents' and grandmother's eyes, I had to give up all of that. Just because a new person was coming to the family, I was going to have a sister.

Initially, I was darn excited about it. I really was. The idea of having someone to play with sounded marvelous, since I did not make anything called a friend in kindergarten. I was so excited that my little heart was pumping extra hard when I sat at the top of the double decker bus with my father on our way to see my mother and of course, my brand new sister.

But things took a drastic change after my tired mother and sister came back into the house. Everything suddenly felt less exciting. And suddenly I feel like its not about me anymore, its all about her. And I had to behave a certain way now, because I'm an older sibling now.

I knew my sister was innocent. I knew it was not her fault. But I cannot help but blame her.

There was a time I walked into her room, and she was in her cot, sleeping. I shot a glare at her, and talked to myself. How I hope she never existed. How I hope she never took the attention away. How I hope things to go back again, before she happened. I gripped the cot super hard, I knew I had the temptation to do something. And it was something that could harm her. It was only me and her in the room, the temptation was overpowering. Until my hand got really close to her, I stopped. I glued my hands to my sides. 

What was I doing? What was this four year old doing? Sure, I instantly regretted my thoughts and quickly went out of the room.

But the feeling never went away.

Transit back tweleve years after, the casual comment of my father over dinner dawned on me. 

I never actually had a proper conversation with my sister. For the most of the part, she was the only one talking while I plugged in my earphones and drifted in my own world. When I actually do listen to her, I get annoyed. I raise my voice. My attitude gets rougher. It got to the point where she was afraid of me.

Imagine, a sister being afraid of you?

What kind of sister am I?

She has done nothing wrong, so why am I being like this? 

There was a time I told her if she got a lead role in the school's musical, I would go to her musical. You know what? She actually did. I never told her it was a dream of mine to do that, but she helped me achieve that. I did go to the musical that night, and I can say she had done a pretty darn good job at it.

This year, for the better of myself, I tried to make a card for her birthday. It took pretty long since I started very early. I did it in school, and everyone in school thought I was a good sister. Since it was a handmade card, people thought I was being the caring elder sister, like stereotypes had labelled all elder sister to be. People thought she was lucky to have a sister like me, and would be so touched when she received it.

The truth is, I never gave her the card on her birthday. 

I never had the courage.

My mother always tell me, despite her being so afraid of me, she said I was the best sister she ever had. Her role model will be me.

Hey Sister, I'm sorry.