Image by Buono Del Tesoro from Pixabay 

Me and my sister often have a bone to pick with each other, for various reasons unknown. One of the majorly factors I think would be the cup I kept in her room and forgot to move it out.......ya. These fights for me, are not the types you would see in those 'Filter Copy' videos or the caricatures they make of sisters..... they're personal, quite personal to me. I get affected and it breaks some of me just a little. No, I'm not saying it's her fault; I mean if there's actually a glass in the room which might just attract the cockroaches, shouldn't I take it out?

I think what affects me is the unevering tone with which she reacts......almost as if she's fighting for a rupee coin with an auto rickshaw wala and that if he refuses to pay, she'll just wish the worst for him. But even that importance isn't enough that I've gotten.

My sister, she keeps a diary. When I was younger I kept too many diaries, I'd often lose track of the particular day I was supposedly sad in, more than the other. My habit has worn off now, like that of the beer smells in the next sunday morning. But she's meticulous. She's the crytals-meditation-madison beer type of a person, so I don't fall in her periphery. So I try ways to fit in her personal space, which I presume, normal people would call 'invasion of privacy' but for me I think it's a just desperate need for me to be anyone absolutely anyone, other than being me. But yes it's not justified. Whatever.

I find in her diary no mentions of me, there's the fight she had with mom and dad, the candles she got from acropolis, the new clothes she wanted to wear, the quotes of famous writers, the mentions of two three inseperable friends of her. But not me. I remember whilst having a diary how much I scorned at her, with angst and disgust. I'd write the most horrible of things about her, and now that I go back I just remember writing 'omg!!! I hateee Herr!!!'

That's it.

I'm turning each page, carefully to find even slightest mention of her atleast hating on me, but even that's not there. I think the possibility of her not liking me is also quite unreal in India. So I try to look for the nicer things in the beginning.

I'm disappointed by myself. I just realised she doesn't want me that part of her life. Or maybe I'm just not interesting enough. I guess that's ok. I have been shunned this way in the past, it's nothing new. But it's tough, to handle that sense of rejection, to feel that sense of nothingness just seep within you and just align with the bewilderment of the past and the present filled with awful moments, altogether.

Last day we went out with some of my friends. I say my friends cause they were my friends before they were my sister's as well. I've hated it. I've wholly hated the interaction my sister has had with my friends. Because I think she's funnier than me. This thing of hers has thrown me under the bus quite a few times. They don't even realise when they've started liking her more, and if they just took a minute to look back, they'd notice the united laces on my shoes which I hurriedly put on after the long journey in the car wherein I put them off. But they start walking with her, around her and beside her. She doesn't do it intentionally, it comes naturally to her. At times I wish to confront my friends asking whether they'd prefer her more in a parallel universe?

Perhaps, they'd not answer. They might just get mum for the truth is too heavy on their lips to form words.

As I'm writing this, there's a bee which places it's tiny feet on the edges of my cup. In the background I hear voices of my sister grumbling regarding the half eaten chips's packet lying lazily on the floor. She hates me by now. I think I'll just leave with the cup and the packet. I don't like her nagging.

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