Schadenfreude

"Do you love me?"

I love you.

I really do. You're my sister, aren't you?

We have so many great memories together, from the times we spent gazing at the summer stars to those mud-wrestling during our family's cross-country road trips. You're my best friend, and even if we do fight at times, we always forgive each other in the end. Forgive and forget, right?

And really, it's not even that weird, because I don't think siblings that have never fought at all even exist.

But, you know, it doesn't really matter if we have heated arguments or not, because our relationship is strong enough to withstand everything. We're never apart and were even in our mother's womb together. 'Inseparable' is an adjective synonymous with our names.

Because it has, and always will be you and I.

That's what we promised.

But in a way, that's the whole problem, isn't it? Even though it is always 'you and I', and sometimes 'you and me', it's never 'me and you'.

Always.

And I am sick and tired of playing second fiddle to you all the time.

I know that some of it may seem like irrelevant events, but even if it is, it doesn't mean that it's not important to me. Maybe having the first slice of birthday cake or getting first choice when it comes to shoes doesn't mean much to you, but I think there's a huge difference. And the truth is that this is the story of my life.

Because you're the one that was born first.

And some people may say that the order of birth doesn't matter or that a few minutes are nothing in the big picture, but the thing is that they're worlds apart.

Because second place just means first loser.

You always act like you don't care when faced with this reality, but you never miss a chance to rub it in, do you? I wish I don't, but now I find it completely normal.

It's not just you, because it seems like the whole world is against me. Even our parents love you more than me. And although I know that the measure of love isn't exactly a constant, that you can't give each person five teaspoons of love and be done with it, I can't actually ignore the obvious favoritism. Because when they think I'm not looking, they pass you some extra money or a small gift. You're not any different, because if I ever bring up the subject, you just deny it strongly. They say that seeing is believing, but I don't need to do that, because even if I'm a Holt, I'm not stupid.

And I'm so jealous, because I just don't understand why they favor you. I really don't. I mean, are you really better than me? Am I just too different from you and the rest of the family or something?

What is it?

Just because I like skirts, does that make me lame? Just because I'm kinder than you, does that translate to me being weak? Just because I don't want to be an athlete, does that mean that my goals count for less?

Do I count for less?

People say that family support each other no matter what, but I know that my dreams will never come true, that my fiction will never become fact. My path is set in stone; not by fate, but by unbearable shame.

You're so happy when you hear that our family approves of your dreams, but you don't know that mine are considered worthless, and that a daughter who wants to be a ballerina turns the world into a living nightmare.

And I wonder if you realize what a luxury it is to be able to dream, because it's one that our parents can't afford to give me.

I know that you're the golden girl, and that only one star can be at the very top. You're the pride of our family, so your ambitions are prioritized over mine.

But why is it like this, when I am just as good—No, I'll say it. Why is it like this, when I'm so much better than you? Why's it my fault for being an all-star, and not yours for being a loser?

Why?

People say that I don't know my place, that I can't beat you in any way at all. And I always have to force myself to control my anger when your parents—yours, because it's not like they feel like mine anymore— ask me:

"When are you going to let your sister win for once?"

Yeah, right.

Lies.

Because you win even if I allow you to or not, and I lose every single one of my battles before they even start.

And I wonder if you realize how lucky you are to be acknowledged, because it's a necessity that I don't have.

I'm always known as your sister, but I'm never known for being my own person. No one ever bothers to call me by my name anymore; I'm simply 'the other girl'. But the worst is when I'm called the 'Holt failure'.

Because next to you, I'm never good enough.

People are like stars. No one wants to look at you if you're not bright enough. And when I'm beside you, I don't give out any light; I don't shine or twinkle. I just fade into the night sky, waiting for my time to come.

But not anymore. You may think that you can't make a mistake at all, since you've never been much except for a mass of hot gas in the first place, but you're wrong.

And I must be a terrible sister, for my darkest desire is to see you crash and burn. Some may label me as cruel, but is it really a sin to want your own existence to be acknowledged? Is it so bad if I want people to stop ignoring my existence? Because I know that as long as you're around, I'll never be able to create my own identity; I'll never be the one to light up the galaxy.

Now, it's my turn to twinkle like a diamond in the sky, after that little mistake you made. Sure, our parents don't know about it yet, but it won't be long until they do. I'm not gonna rat you out, so your secret's safe with me. But I can't say the same for others.

Enjoy your time as everyone's favorite, dear sister, because it's not gonna last. I'm already waiting in the wings to take over your role. You can argue and whine all you want about how people won't get rid of you so easily, but remember this:

Even though people only look at the brightest star in the sky, they also only remember the worst of you.

And it's safe to say that now I'll overshadow you, because I'll be giving out more light than you ever will. Build a comfortable home in the shadow of my silhouette, because I promise you that I'll never let you leave.

"Do you love me?"

I do.

Don't I?

A/N: I took out a few words and tried to Americanize it. I had no idea it was so hard to write in American slang. Hopefully, it's more Reagan-esque now.