This Virtual Diary

My First Entry! (#01)

01-06-19 | Sunday

4:44 PM

Hi. So, um, I really don't know what I'm doing but yeah. Let's roll with it.

You can call me P.N. I am starting a new grade in about six weeks. Maybe I'll tell you what grade, but we haven't gotten to even know eachother yet! I am an australian asian. I love love love reading books! Typically fantasy, but I have been more lenient with mystery and romance! (As long as it's not horrendously cliche!)

Actually, I don't know if you would want to know much about me. I'll make this as little as self depracating as I can, but who would want to know about some girl on the internet? Whatever, I'll tell you anyway. God, this is the reason why I'm writing this, so I don't have to be self conscious about what I write about. It is for me as much as it is for you.

I... used to have four siblings. Two sisters, two brothers. I was the second eldest. First my sister, then me, my other sister, then my brothers. It was always so, simplified. You know? All five of us. A thousand differences.

Okay, so. Here's a story I wanted to get off my chest. Trust me, you won't be getting a story as big as this one for a while.

Let's talk about why I only now have three siblings. No, none of them died. One of them ran away. Can you guess? My oldest sister. Her name is Y.B. I was always so, so jealous of her. She was the pretty one, the smart one. Charismatic, charming. But on top of all that, rebellious. Too many to count how many fights she got into with our parents. But somehow, we became so close. No matter how many differences we had. While she stayed cocooned in her bedroom secretly skyping her friends (those were one of the many secrets she told me), I was in the kitchen, helping my mum.

We lived on a farm. We're not poor, we're fine with money. If not, slightly, slightly, better than average. But we had to help our parents a few times a week at the farm so that they could finish their work. My sister hated it, always complained, always threw tantrums. Sometimes it was so bad she didn't go help at all. I always remembered feeling injustice when she got to stay home.

But that's not the point. We still got close besides all the terrible things she's done to all of us. It was because despite her rebellion, so many people seemed to love her. Our cousins, our aunts, uncles. "Y.B, you're so tall and pretty!", "Y.B, can you come play a game with us?", "Y.B, here's a gift I made for you!". And I wanted that so badly. I wanted people to like me. So, I did the thing I did best: Be smart. As smart as her.

As she got older, her grades dropped. She used to be a straight A student. But she became so immersed in friends, boys, makeup that she became distracted. I swooped in, angelic little child, and started getting straight As myself. I worked hard to, because I wanted to be just like her. And I did. She started to hold a grudge against me. "You goody little two shoes.", "Mum and Dad like you, so go talk to them", "Looks like little miss perfect is sad!".

But, despite our fights, we still got close. She told me all kinds of secrets. How she was secretly dating this guy and promised me not to tell our parents. Her first kiss. How she snuck her boyfriend into our house without our parents noticing. Everything. And I kept it all to myself, never told a soul.

Because I wanted her approval. But yet, I also wanted my parents approval. And it was so hard being on both sides of the party. I worked hard for my parents yet kept secrets from them. I knew deep down that what I was doing was so wrong, and that I really supported what my parents were doing, but I already dug myself into this hole that I just couldn't find a way to get out of the mess.

And one day, she left. Ran away. My parents, especially my Mum, was so broken. I was so confused. And I didn't know a until a year later was that in the span of two days, my Mum went to cry to herself in the shed because she was so.. what's the word? Sad? Disappointed? I don't know. But while she was gone, it felt like a door was opening. And I don't want to sound poetic, but it felt like it had been locked for so long. And I finally realised, how much our parents did love us, how hard they worked, how they took us to the farm not to only benefit themselves but us as well. All which contradicted what my sister told me. My parents used to tell me, "don't get close to your sister, she's just manipulating you, using you." and I thought, "of course she's not! She loves me as much as I love her. How could you seperate your two daughters?".

Y.B came back after two days. And she came back as if nothing happened. All smiles and "Hi guys!" . It was awkward. But not for long. She would launch into this story of what she did while she was gone, all the fun things she did. I was so reluctant to hear, so tired of gathering this information in my head and locking it so no one else would know. But I listened anyway, because still I craved her approval.

And guess what; she ran away again. For real this time. Never, ever came back til this day. She had left two notes, one for our parents and one for me. She left my note in my room, but I never saw it. My Mum did though. I was so grateful. Grateful that it wasn't another lie I had to accumulate, among all the other ones.

I'm glad she left. No matter how angry I was at her; you tell me these secrets, you come into my life and made all these memories for me, yet you leave them all to me for your own benefit. I'm so glad she left. No more fights, no more bullying to my siblings, no more lies, no more secrets.

But one thing. Those secrets she told me, I never told my parents. And I still haven't. I can't. They know I'm responsible, I'm hard working, I'm kind. I'm a loving daughter that just wants her family to be happy. They know that. So what would they think when they know I've harbored all these terrible secrets from them? What would they think? It's been over a year now, since Y.B left. And it's been even longer that I've kept my secrets from Mum and Dad.

I've never been so angry with myself, at my cowardice. I really want to tell them so badly. But the longer I keep the secrets the harder it gets. I hate the unrelenting regret that I have with me everyday. I wish I could just lift that regret. Oh my god, I wish so much that I would confess to my parents. But what would they think of me, you know?

Okay. That's it. I still have loads more stories. Loads more things I wanna tell you. Trust me, it's a handful. They may not be as deep and long as this one, but close.

-P.N

(signed off 5:59 PM. I sure wrote for a long time)