Sister

My sister doesn’t know it, but she’s my best friend.

What’s even crazier? I didn’t know it either.

In 2003, I was in a creative writing class. Reading through the onslaught of horrible poetry (oh noetry!) and short stories, I’m noticing how present my sister was, how much I depended on her even while fearing, rejecting, loving and being jealous of her. I will save you from the failed attempts at written art, but even where she isn’t mentioned I can tell that I built my strongest characters with her in mind.

I think we’ve always been BFFs, but neither of us knew what friends were. They aren’t just people to gossip with, or someone you take to the mall with you. They are the ones who know within seconds how you are, and what they can do to help. They are the first call when you are in trouble, but at the same time are the last place you can go for help. They get to be honest with you, even when you can’t really handle it. They are the first ones to hear your best news and the last ones to judge you for it.

What does this mean for my roommate/best friend? She might be another awesome sister, but just doesn’t know it yet…

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