Pearl

Lilly

She was beautiful. Not the most beautiful girl on earth kind of beautiful, but, yeah, she was beautiful. Your average beautiful girl. She had very beautiful hair, silky and long, so long that it reached her knees, and it was thick and dark. I don't know how she survived with that never ending pack of forestry, but she did. She loved it and took a great deal of time in caring for it, something I would never think of doing. I've asked her to chop it off, like, a million times, but she would either shrug it off or ask me to shut up and mind my own business. She said if I was jealous, that was not her problem, but mine. You can imagine what kind of sisters we were.

Pearl was born four years after me. I've always been the 'older sister' in our parents' eyes and they expect a matured behaviour of me since her birth. They were granted of their wish, alright, but then I didn't like my little sister either. I didn't run after their love and crave for pamperings and childish shit, and I would have enjoyed looking after my kid sister hadn't she been constantly on my nerves. Sometimes my parents thought me jealous, but I simply couldn't stand her personality. She was a typical attention seeker, quite the opposite of me.

I loved her alright, one can't help loving her family despite the circumstances, however much she denies it. We've had our moments of happiness too, memories of which linger longer than others. We would spend the entire night laughing and spilling secrets and the next day, I would scream at her to stop bugging me or she would threaten to share my secrets with our parents if I didn't let her have her way. Our relationship was quite complicated, to be frank. Sometimes I would think how lucky I was to have her as my sister and the other times I would wish she was dead instead.

We would fight a lot. Like, way too much to be considered normal and then not speak to each other for weeks. And the foundation of our fights would be nothing more than silly reasons I usually would have forgotten by the next day, however much I tried to recall them. I seriously can be immature at times, but, Pearl was worse, and that's the one main thing I hated about her.

Her immaturity literally kills me.

I sometimes compare her to cockroaches. Like, annoying creatures who we don't give a shit about and I personally stay as far away as possible, especially if I witness it flying. Pearl can be worse, though. She'll do anything to gain your attention, and, by anything, I literally mean anything at all. Her very purpose of existence depends on the attention we shower upon her. I don't understand this quality of hers. Sure, sometimes I would crave for human attention as well, but I could live without it. Pearl would rather die.

So, there you have my little sister. She can be attractive, but I usually find her dumb. She would also try to joke so as to gain our attention, thinking of her as the world's funniest comedian, and most of her jokes made no sense at all. I pity her at times as such, and if I confront her about tips to make your joke a joke, she would say things like, 'I know what I am supposed to speak,' or 'says the joker,' or even her most used words when it comes to myself, 'shut up and mind your own business.'

She would totally get on my nerves.

Now, I know how most people pour their feelings into writings, especially when it comes to poetry, or even journals, but I can't say the same about me. I love writing, alright, in fact, my dream is to become a world famous writer, but I don't usually pour out my feelings in writing. I don't understand how the others do that either. I've tried writing down my feelings, in times of stress, but I ended up exaggerating about my honest feelings, and I couldn't read my own words without cringing in embarassment. Sometimes, when I wrote journals, or at least, tried to write, (I was too lazy to continue writing journals) I would add a bit of lies here and there, unintentionally.Only a few minutes later when I read it would I realise that some written incidents actually didn't happen. I wasn't a liar, really, but my memory wasn't perfect either. Hence do I beg for the pardon of my dear reader if you do come across mistakes.