What’s important is that you take care of yourself first.

Why is that the first thing people always say to me?
How come this is the first thing people say to each other?
Is it because we are as they say,
a selfish species?
There is no such thing as altruism in this society,
no,
not for us.

I don’t want to care about myself.
But as much as I think about what I want,
the fact that I still get up in the morning,
that I still show up to class,
go to work,
I’m still taking care of myself,
as long as I’m stepping somewhere,
be it forward or backwards,
up or down,
sideways or zigzag,
it’s something I’m doing for me.

Each breath I take is only for me.

If only I could breathe for her too.
If only I could live for her too.
I love her.
And I honestly have not found the words to describe just how much I love her.

Sometimes I feel like I can’t sympathize with anyone else anymore.
I can no longer empathize with the ‘other’ in the conversation
because I’ve spent so many years seeing the view through her lens,
hearing her side of the story,
so much that I’ve forgotten my own.
Ours.

I can’t bear to listen to our side of the story anymore,
because that “monster” you speak of,
that person you fear,
that someone who tortures you
and pushes you into a corner,
is my sister,
and now,
it’s me.

Because I keep pushing myself into a corner,
and making sure that I stay there,
so that no one else can.

So that if I am trapped,
at least I’m the only one to blame.

So that if she ever comes looking for me,
comes to confide in me ever again,
I can tell her,
“Look, look, I’m here. Just like you wanted. Just like you told me to be.”

…

“Please love me.
Please live.
I’ll throw everything away for you.
Even myself.
Even my own sanity.
Please.
Live.”

Who do you think you are? What makes you so special? Don’t you think you’re thinking too much of yourself? What makes you think that you alone, will be able to “save” her? Why would you think that she needs saving and that you do not?

These thoughts run through my head every night.

Along with thoughts like, “Is she alive? Is she ok today? Did she go to work? Who has she called? Where is she? Will she answer my text messages?”

Why do I matter?
Why do I think that I am important to her at all?
What is a sister,
what type of bond is that and how is it different from any other?
What is there to guarantee that bond hasn’t severed?
And who am I to think that I can be the glue to hold us together?

Who am I to keep holding on,
if someone else is already ready to let go?

What makes me so special?
Is my love deeper?
Yes.
Yes,
I want to scream.

At all the therapists who doubt me.
At all in my family who want to turn their head the other way.
At all of my friends who fear me.
At all the strangers that look at me with disgust.

Maybe no god’s love can keep her alive,
capitalized or not capitalized,
but maybe mine can,
maybe my love can,
but if it can’t,
I honestly can’t tell you what else my love is good for.