I have an elder sister, and oh, to be loved by her. I often question my conscience when I am around her, and that sets the bar so high for anyone I love:

  • Will he make Maggi on a Sunday evening and put more on my plate?
  • Will he get me KitKat every time we step out of the house?
  • Will he hug me to sleep when I am crying at 2 AM?
  • Will he cover me with a quilt when I am cold?
  • Will he see healthy recipes on YouTube and try them because I am on my Diet Era?
  • Will he understand the family dynamics like she does?
  • Will he make the best greeting card for 15 days before my birthday?
  • Will he make the best white sauce pasta in the world?
  • Will he be the best roommate I had?

She carries the innocence of a child; her eyes light up every time I meet her.
She soaks up all responsibilities so I can go fly around.
She is the perfect daughter, so I don’t have to be.
She is often underestimated, yet cheers the loudest for my achievements.
She has her fair share of breakdowns, yet carries herself with grace around me.
She is wise, yet lets me make my own mistakes.

While I was not old enough to understand her inner battles, she still mentions me as her best friend in her diary.
While I was not “emotionally available,” she was still forgiving.
While she howls when I take her jacket, she packs it for me every time in my luggage.
She knows I spent all my pocket money, so she saves hers to get me a jumpsuit for a party.
She is effortlessly gorgeous, yet will ask my opinion on whether to put on concealer or foundation first.
She has the best fashion sense, yet would not buy anything without asking me.

It’s surreal to have a bonus parent, a roof for your vulnerabilities, validation for your insecurities, a role model, a friend, a confidant—an elder sister.

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