Do you know what does Serilda means? No? Well, don’t worry, I will tell you. It means armored battle maiden. My mother named me Serilda. I didn’t know why. Had she expected me to be strong, bold, and able to do big things which sadly I never got to do. Why? Hear this carefully.
I have a sister, an older one. We had an age gap of four years between us and I had always looked up to her. She was what you would call a wild child; always getting in trouble, fighting, and running away. She was the queen of herself and that had always attracted the younger me. She would tell me about what she did over the weekend, where she went, and what her future plans were. She was the best sister I could have asked for. However, as I started worshipping her, I began hating my parents, especially my mother.
Thirteen-year-old me couldn’t understand what my mother said. I hated her because she was always trying to not let me do things, like no going out, dress properly, don’t slouch, always be presentable. She hated me chewing gum and had even punished me because of it by grounding me in my room and taking away all the gum and candies in my room. I couldn’t understand why was she always so mean to me. My sister was allowed to do all those things when she was growing up, why the hell was I not allowed?
Finally, I revolted. I stuck gum in my mother’s hair and called her a bitch. I yelled at her and told her that she was the worst mother ever.
I know you want to hate me for that, well, I hated myself too. I felt bad later, and when, that night, I went in search of her to say sorry, I found her in the garden crying. She silently wept, half her hair cut off because of the gum I had stuck in it. I heard her sob and it was the most heartbreaking thing my thirteen-year-old mind had seen, I began crying too.
I went to her and said sorry so many times, but she wouldn’t ’t look at me. She told me to go away in her low, crying voice. It broke me. I sat on my knees and cried with her. I apologized many more times and told her she was the best mother, that I was the wrong one and I would never say such words again.
It took me exactly three days to gain her forgiveness, but I had to trade in the rebellious me. I had promised her that I would become the daughter she wanted me to be. I stopped looking at my sister because it hurt me to know that I wouldn’t be able to be like her.
My sister went on with her life; she was growing and going to parties and school. I started seeing less of her over the years, but knew of the things she did from my friends.
As years went on, I hid myself behind books because that was the only escape left for me. I didn’t go out. I studied hard, went with my mother where she wanted me to, wore the clothes she chose for me, had my hair done as she deemed best. My wishes never got to see the daylight or breathe in the air, it was always my mother’s wishes that lived. I got her attention when it was much needed and for the rest of the time, she was busy trying to get hold of my sister or trying to make her see sense which even I knew wasn’t possible.
I began to lose her attention. Well, don’t get happy, it wasn’t like I got the reins over my life, people. It was just that my mother stopped smiling at me when I got good grades. She wasn’t there for me when I gave my first dance performance, or at my volleyball games, it felt like I lost my mother. My parents were never there to cheer me on. I had expected that from my dad, but not from my mom.
My dad was always either deep in work or trying to get my sister out of trouble ( in other words trying to keep things from my mother about my older sister). My mom, she got busy with my sister and her problems, and I got pulled into my boring life, to the point where I felt I didn’t exist.
When I turned seventeen I didn’t even get a present, not even a wish from them. My older sister had gotten into a scandal at her university around that same time. She was caught with drugs on the campus with the others, my parents rushed off to save her. I couldn’t get out and have a birthday blast, why? The behavior of being a good daughter had been ingrained in me, it would take another two years to get it out of me.
When I got in New York University I wanted to say goodbye to my parents, but they didn’t come to see me off. They had to go meet with my older sister’s boyfriend. My first year of university I enjoyed my life. I dated, you know. I got to date and flirt a bit with boys, and go to the bar. God, I felt like I was on cloud nine. I didn’t party hard or get drunk, become a slut or do drugs. I just enjoyed the small happiness I got from able to control my life, but then came sophomore year and my mother came back in my life yet again.
I hope you know what happened then, I lost control of my life. I tried to argue with her for once in my life again and got shut up Only to be reminded of the time when I had broken her heart.
I lost my life again, but this time to my dad as well as mom. I had to tell them about what I did, where I went, whom I was dating.Suddenly I started hating dating and going out. My parents dug too deep into my personal life. They tried to got to know every guy I dated. My Facebook was being stalked by them. They hired a spy over me and forced me on blind dates. I hated every second of it but I couldn’t say a thing to them. How I had treated my mother was brought up every time I tried to say no to anything.
But then I started liking a guy, we met on my parents forced blind date. “He was the brother of some guy,” my mother told me and the rest I didn’t know.
I got shy in front of him. I thought maybe I could find my happiness now. I stopped caring about the wild side that I saw in my sister. I concentrated on the present. I had already lost most of my friends. I was lonely, but I felt a different kind of happiness in it. Things were changing for me. I was starting to like it. Maybe it was because of him, or maybe I had just given up the fight to live, or maybe it was just because I was liking it.
However, things changed once again. One morning changed it all. My elder sister changed it all. Once again everything seemed lost. The emotional side of my parents came up, more like emotional blackmail side of them. I was forced by their emotional blackmail to step into my sister’s heels and life. I dropped out of college and things changed for me forever I should say.
I thought maybe things would get better for me, but they didn’t, all because of my elder sister.
I had seen the ugly side of her, the evil side that only cared about her and not others not even her old blood. She blinded people with her lies, her fake tears and innocent act. She took away all my chances for having a normal life. We never came across each other ever since that fateful date because her loved ones were always there to protect her. I was left with no one, not even a shoulder to cry on. She had painted me the evil of this society while herself as the saint. It was the true opposite of what the truth was.
You might wonder, why do I always say elder sister and never her name? It is because I hate her. Her name is like a disease to me. She wasn’t the sister I worshipped. She had ruined my life. She was evil. All I was doing the past few years was waiting for the chance to pay her back while I lived a life of misery. A life where I didn’t have anything. I couldn’t share anything with my parents because they just got over me. I was living a life that wasn’t the one I had imagined. I wouldn’t want such a life even for my enemy. The life I lived went beyond the imagination of my mothers.
I could never become someone’s first. My sister always came first. Her needs came first. Her troubles came first. Her pain came first. Her happiness came first. And even for him, she came first.
She got all the first and happiness while all I got was nothing or the leftovers. I never came first for anyone.
My happiness never came.
All I knew was being second. I never came first even when they said
I had it all.