It’s only been three days since my last post, but it feels like I haven’t posted anything for weeks. The temperature is still below ten degrees, but we can feel summer just around the corner – the days have grown longer, and even though I still have twenty four hours every day, it feels like I have an eternity stretching ahead of me. I’m just as busy – or rather, a bit more since I’m simultaneously studying three subjects for the back to back exams next week – as I was in winter, but with the sun lingering just a but longer in the sky, it seems as if I’m getting work done faster. Things I usually finished at eight in the evening are now done by five, so I have more time at hand – I have no idea how the mere increase in the length of daytime makes you feel that each day brings with it a couple of hours more – and I’ve been using that time to look for scholarships and affordable colleges that offer a degree in Creative Writing, and editing more of my flash fiction. I like this change in time. It energizes me and I feel more productive, though I suspect that with summer months inching closer, the energy will soon turn into laziness.
The past few weeks have been productive and satisfying. I’ve got so much of work done – life is in complete contrast with what it was a year ago. All of this does make me happy, but inside me somewhere, I do feel as if I’ve let myself down.
We all spin crazy fantasies in our head, and they can be very absurd or senseless. For example, I once pictured myself winning an Oscar, even though I don’t see myself acting in a movie or directing or even writing one. I’ve imagined myself climbing Everest and I’ve imagined myself being best friends with the Obamas. (They’re called “crazy” fantasies for a reason.) However, sometimes I have also imagined a different version of myself: super-smart, sarcastic and someone who can make people laugh (I suck at making jokes). A third version of myself that I often desire to be is to be that one friend who is always there for everyone, who cooks for others, plans surprises and is thoughtful. When I’m writing to my diary, criticizing myself for some reason or the other, it occurs to me that it is the third version of myself that I really want to be. I don’t care about the sarcasm or smartness. I want to be a simple person who loves others. And yet it is this version that I so epically fail to be.
One of my resolutions this year was to be a good sister, and every day, I fail at it. I tell myself I don’t have to wait until 2018 to start working on this resolution, that it’s not too late, but my actions differ so much from my thoughts. If at this point in my life there is anything meaningful lacking from my life, it’s a good relationship with my family, especially with my sister. My mother has been my best friend and my father the friend to always laugh with. However, I don’t have a word or even a sentence to describe my relationship with my sister. She’s six years younger than me, and I do love her. I just don’t know how to show it. We don’t fight everyday or go around saying “I love you” to each other. Neither is it a mix of the two. She is in her own world and I’m in mine. At times I look at her, offering me chocolates, drawing bookmarks for me, telling me excitedly about the group dance she’s a part of and asking me to come to her school’s Annual Day program or whether I still think about Tommy II, the puppy we had for two weeks before he died in a car accident, and I see how precious and unloved she is. She has time for everyone, but no one has any time for her. I stop my mother from scolding her out of frustration over work or stress, but I cannot handle myself when I myself am frustrated or simply not in the mood to talk to anyone. I regret it every time I talk crossly with her or do not take interest in what she has to say (besides me, she doesn’t really have anyone else to talk to, not even any friends in the neighborhood), and later I sit and feel bad about her and bitter about myself for failing to simply leave my work for a minute and listen to her instead of telling her to leave me alone.
“That’s the best thing about little sisters: They spend so much time wishing they were elder sisters that in the end they’re far wiser than the elder ones could ever be.”
― Gemma Burgess
I know where I’m going wrong and I do resolve to work on it, but I fail when the time actually comes to do so. I’m completely clueless about what to do. It looks so simple – looking at her while she talks and being just as excited as she is and answering her queries even though they’re often pointless, but why does it feel so hard to actually go ahead and do it? I wish I could talk to our Psychology teacher; she would show me a solution I never would have thought of, and things would seem easier then. But I won’t meet her again until March when the next session begins. So until then, I’ll try my best.