Darling sister,
with your hair the purest shade of carrot
falling to the middle of your back,
and eyes the clearest blue,
and freckles splattered across your nose and cheeks
like the angels couldn’t stop blessing you once they started.
You look far too much like a ghost of my past.

Your sparkling curiosity,
your tendency to stay up far too late
because you just can’t put your book down,
not yet, because it’s just getting good
and you want to know what’s next.
The innocence of your smile
and the heartiness of your laugh.
You look far too much like a ghost of my past.

Forgive me, but you are scarier
than any monster in the shows I watch.
Because when I think about how you crave my approval,
how you cling to my company
like it’s the last time you’ll ever see me again,
and how you say, “Will I be like you when I grow up?
We’re just like twins! We’re sisters forever!”
It feels me with liquid fear,
like silver nitrate is being pumped through my veins.

You haven’t seen the darker side of me.
Not all of it, not the breaking down of my very psyche
as the world prepares to squeeze the live out of me
the way we squeeze Jell-O through our teeth
because we think it’s fun.
No, you don’t see the times where I don’t want to face the world.
Instead you see this quirky older sister that you probably always wanted,
I know I did.

I want to be that older sister, the one that you look up to,
the one that takes you places and teaches you things and
helps you understand how to survive in this world.
But I’m scared that I can’t.
I’m scared that one day I’m going to fall,
like Sherlock off of St. Bart’s.
But unlike Sherlock,
I don’t think I’ll be getting back up again.

I don’t want you to see me fall.
I want to be The Boy Who Lived for you,
and **** it if I’m not going to try.
Sure, I’m terrified of all this role model stuff,
it’s not easy, not by a long shot.
But you need me and I’m going to do the best I can.

Love,
Your Big Sister 4Ever