My sister is a special individual.
I don't mean it in the way as saying she's autistic or disabled, I mean in a genuine, positive way. She's special.
But I'd be caught dead saying that out loud.
Her name's Elise. She's five years older than me; twenty-two, and fresh out of college. I'm seventeen and still struggling with secondary-level schooling. She's multi-talented in a number of factors, but still has her struggles in some areas like anyone else. Even so, she works twice as hard as anyone else to succeed- not because she wants to, but because she feels like she has to.
I couldn't do anything like that. To be honest, I'd rather sit in my room and play video games than try and apply for a job. And that kind of proves something.
Plus, despite being socially awkward, my sister found it easy to make friends. She's sweet, kind, open-minded, warm-hearted, encouraging... the kind of person you'd want to call your friend. Unfortunately, she had to leave all her friends behind in Wisconsin when we moved down here. Since then, she's receded more and more into herself; spending more and more time in her room than anywhere else, only coming out when she has to eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner, or whenever she chooses to get a snack from the cupboards. It sounds sort of like your average cliche depression, but it wasn't depression. It was lonliness.
She needed someone to fill that hole in her heart that she lost when we moved to Louisiana.
And to me, it seemed that at this point, she'd take anyone. Any form of friend or companion to help her slowly come back to her old ways.
Though, from what I could see, that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. She needed a miracle.
But I was still skeptical as to whether or not miracles existed.
If they did, it was going to take a long, long time.
