One Million Tiny Things

The Final Letter

Hey booger,
Having a sibling is like having an extra limb attached to your body. They are, no doubt, as much a part of you as your arm or leg. But, when it comes down to it, you have absolutely no control over it.

However many times you try to control them, they will obstinately flap, wiggle, annoy, even punch you in the face if possible.

But, you can't live without them. As much as you hate them, argue with them, have desperate urges to throw them off rooftops, you can't get rid of them.

Because at the end of the day, I need you and you need me.

Oh, I know, we're still young and rather excessively dumb, but I highly doubt that there'll ever be a day where I'm not confused as to whether I want go hug you or strangle you, love you or hate you, miss you or call you just to get on your nerves. That there'll ever be a day where I don't randomly think of the joke you made the night before or unconciously blurt out something you did in a conversation with people who've never even met you. A day where I don't think of you a million times, featuring about 10 different ways of killing you, would be a day where the sun wouldn't rise.

If that day ever, in some god-forbidden, heaven-shaking way, happens, you have full right to give me a good strong slap across my face.

Try to hit the left side though, my right side-profile is too good for your paws to touch.

I'm bored right now. Excessively so. And because, for unknown and unearthly reasons, dancing to loud pop music is considered wrong after midnight and I had absolutely nothing else to do (read as I had tons of homework to finish) ,I decided to read our book.

And that's when I realised something;

An entire anthology of letters, thousands of words, dozens of I love yous and even more tears; but there isn't a single letter written to me.

I'll be honest, I cried a bit at how little you care.

But that's okay, because the ever optimistic, suffocatingly-loving me decided that the best way to get you say you love me was to do it first.

You know, coax your love out with false words of encouragement and all that razzle dazzle.

So, let's get this over with;

I love you so much; forget the moon, to another universe and back.

I appreciate you unbelievably; mainly because it takes so long for me to actually realise how much you do for me.

I miss you horribly; I hate being stuck at home while your out gallavanting. (I don't really know how absolutely fun med school must be; but I bet you it's better than having to stay at home all the time)

If you were here, I'd feel a little better. I'd have someone to annoy the crap out of. It's a very specific little sister talent, one of the very few in my limited arsenal of gifts from God (he really isn't fair on that account).
It's right up there with being able to laugh through my nose and disguise it as a cold and the magical ability to cry at command.

I'm special, I know.

But we weren't singing my praises, that's for you to do. In your loving letter to me mentioning all those lovely little things that you appreciate about me (*wink*)

Is it weird that I don't talk as much as I do to you, to anyone else?

Somebody told me that I was "too quiet" a couple days ago. I bet you our neighbours would strongly disagree.

It still beats me how I can't hear you talk to me over the loud music that we play 24/7, but the people next door can clearly hear you calling me a "deaf piece of shit"

To be fair though, I seriously doubt shit ever had ears. But, hey, your better at anatomy than I am...

Or that time you made some joke about "delete shit rows" and laughed all over your explanation.

To this day, I have no idea what that means and I don't think I really want to know. You can keep your disturbed word-mix to yourself.

But little piece of advice, you need at least two people for an inside joke. And, uh, I'm readily available.

I've gotten this long without chucking you into the sea, so I hope you can make it through this letter without killing me.

But, I'll get to the point. I just wanted to say that,

I love you.

As mushy mushy as it sounds. I love you so much for doing this with me. I know that you probably rolled your eyes hard enough for them to be stuck in the back of your head when I suggested writing an entire book of letters.

But you pulled through. You got us both pumped up and ready to write. And some (read most) chapters might suck, but we've got a couple of diamonds stuck in this dirt too.

So thank you so much for taking the time and effort to write this book with me. It'll always be one of my favourite memories with you.

And I'll never be able to tell you how much I appreciate it

Love,
Your lil sister