I love my little sister, honest to God, I really do.
She’s adorable and cute and the fact that we have a huge age difference probably makes up for it. I notice siblings tend to get along better (at least, in my opinion) when a huge age gap separates them. My little sister and I have seven years separating us. We don’t get into many heated arguments. My older sister and I have two years of age difference. We argue all the time and she probably hates me as much as I do with her.
Anyways, I’ve never been that sibling in those TV shows or movies that suddenly felt resentment and jealousy over the fact that they were going to have a new sibling and thus realizing all their attention was gone from them and they’d be overshadowed. Never once did I feel these kind of feelings strongly, and if I did, I probably didn’t recognize them.
Everybody loves my little sister more than they do with me or my older sister. It’s fine by me, she’s my favorite person in my family anyway. She’s the favorite sibling, something that me and my sister acknowledge. She’s the #1 sister.
But yesterday night, I felt that bitterness and resentment.
It was her school talent show and she was performing in it. She played the violin and wore a cute shirt and skirt for her outfit. Her skirt was a shade of bright, neon pink. She smiled brightly and played her little heart out and stopped playing once (because she skipped some notes) but smiled brightly after her saying “OOPS!” cutely and adorably and continued to play again.
As a cellist and overly concerned sister, I winced at her playing at times, because with years of musical training under my belt, I recognized that most of the notes were off-tune and sounded funny. But she was adorable and you know, seven years old, so that could be excused. Besides, her cute face made up for it. (Biased older sister coming here, obviously.)
But this is where the bitterness and resentment comes in. Once she came down from the stage, my parents congratulated her and gave her a pat on the back and talked about how good she did and how great she was for many minutes.
I didn’t feel resentment for that, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not that obnoxious to get bitter over that.
It wasn’t because my little sister made many mistakes (because goddamn did I do the same thing after showering her with praise), but since it brought back bitter memories of a piano recital I did of when I was 7 years old.
I remember the moment clearly now.
I was nervous and jittery and my palms felt sweaty and my heart raced for miles on end. My name was one of the first to perform because of my young age and I played a song that I had practiced for days on end.
When it was my turn to play, I bleeping sucked. The nervousness came in and my childhood shyness kicked in and halfway through my moderate performance, my mind suddenly went blank. My fingers stopped playing as my mind turned empty. Hours of practicing were basically wasted. I stopped playing for what seemed like hours (the audience even let out a little gasp and started whispering to themselves and I could hear their voices clearly and understood what they were saying, which made my mood turn even worse) but was really thirty seconds. Then, the piano teacher, urged me to continue playing and I found my footing again. I played until the very end and did another song.
The audience clapped for me pityingly and I bowed and smiled stiffly, the fake grin frozen on my face. The realization had repeated in my mind over and over; I had made a terrible mistake.
My parents didn’t receive me as charmingly as they did to my little sister yesterday night. Instead of showering of praises and reassurances that I didn’t suck that bad, my father got made at me and started berating me over and over. Why did you have to mess up? Didn’t you practice for days? Practice longer when you get home, I’m disappointed in you.
No one hugged me or told me everything was going to be fine. Year after year, that accursed recital performance still stuck with me and my parents would always go back to it after every one. Everytime I’d make a mistake during a recital, my parents would always point it out and I’d feel like shit. Maybe that’s why I stopped piano last year and why I’m so reluctant to even touch the keys since.
It would have been nice if my parents had done that for me. You know, the whole you-did-great-even-though-you-didn’t-really. But they didn’t and watching them do it for my sister (which I’m glad they did because I didn’t want her to go through what I did) hurt, a lot.
Writing this is actually really painful now. I hate being an overdramatic teen and finding this a big deal, but I’m me and I’m dramatic. I was so happy playing the piano before and their reaction to that performance made me feel like shit.
So, during the car ride home, (my dad took a separate car because he had just came from work to go to my little sister’s performance) I brought up my first recital to my mom so I’d stop feeling butthurt about my little sister’s performance.
I pressed her with questions and skirted the topic around (why, all of a sudden, did you two suddenly decide of all times now praise the performance when you basically broke my heart after my first recital? both of us sucked the same during our first performance, why did the both of you shower her with praise and ignore her mistakes when you basically wouldn’t stop criticizing?), but my mom dodged the conversation and changed the topic to my grades.
Man, why couldn’t you guys at least praise me once during my first performance?
It wouldn’t hurt if you guys tried, even if it was a lie. Or if you apologized to me last night.
But you didn’t so now I’m really bitter and writing this blog post.
Believe it or not, there is another reason as to why I’m butthurt. Yes, I am continuing the blog post that shouldn’t be continued and should have ended a sentence before, but whatevs. This is my blog and this is my bitter blog post. The applause. So juvenile and lame of me to be bitter, I know, I know. But there’s a story to this, actually. (Like always!)
But the reason why I’m really bitter about who was applauding is because the applause my sister got meant she’s really popular in school. Because it was different from all the other applause the people before my sister had, so I kind of knew.
My older sister and I had very illustrious backgrounds in our Catholic school. I was never popular in school and I got bullied a lot. When I was the same age my little sister was now, no one ever wanted to play with me at recess. I spent basically 3/4 of my time in first and second grade alone and friendless and I used myself as entertainment for recess. The first friend I made moved away to the Philippines, my whole class turned against me because I liked a guy (who turned out to be really mean to me after the incident), and the second friend I made ditched me for better opportunities. (She said I was too weird and my parents and older sister told me she treated me as a servant, so it was fine that she ditched me, apparently.)
I tried making friends, I really did. I tried by getting myself involved with my classmates in dodgeball or tag or other games, but nobody wanted to play with me. They always did it in front of the teacher because my teacher made them or the older kids made the boys play with me because it was obvious I was alone and friendless, but they always ditched me in the end because I was too weird and that I had to leave them alone, stat.
So needless to say, I became friendless and a lonely kid. I had bad fashion sense because while all the girls in class wore things that were considered in-style (I’m not sure how that’s possible in the first and second grade, but it was there) I was dorky and nerdy because my parents dressed me up funny. I wore capris with knee-high socks. You get the picture. LOL.
Like I’m really glad my sister didn’t have to experience the neglect I did in my first 2 years of school (and god I hope she never experienced the bullying I did during the middle-school years of Catholic school, I cried all the time because of that). But it really bothered me to see how people started turning all nice and appreciative and supportive of her when nobody did that for me. Like I was basically the exact same girl my little sister is now, we looked the same too (the haircuts make us almost carbon copies, giggles) but I never experienced the same thing because nobody in class liked me.
I was known as the smart kid as my sister is now, but nobody ever treated me the same. Nobody cheered for me or clapped for me the same way my little sister did the day before. My parents didn’t even offer me help for any of the projects I did in school and berated me for the grade I’d get after, whereas now my mom basically does them for my little sister.