Letter to my non-existent sibling

Posted on March 16, 2016


Hi. I wish you were here.

I’ve always imagined you to be a boy younger than me. Maybe a couple of years younger, and less geekier. But I’d prefer a geek brother.

I guess this comes from missing my younger cousins so much. I grew up with them, you know, up until my pre-teens. I guess that gave me a taste of what it would be like to actually be an ate.

I miss them so much. I miss it when they looked up to me and I was the responsible one. I miss being the mastermind of whatever it was we were doing. I miss our PlayStation fights and wrestling matches. I miss reading in a corner while they do whatever it was that little kids do. I miss being an ate so, so much.

As much as I want to reach out to them, I probably can’t bring back the way we used to be. Time changes everything. I mean, I still do talk to my younger girl cousins but not so much anymore because of time and distance. I don’t even remember when I last spoke to my younger boy cousin. God, I miss that hyperactive smartass. I think he’s 17 now, and driving. Yes, he learned how to drive sooner than I did. As much as I want to steer him away from the path of fuccboi-ness, it looks as if the bro mentality has eaten its way through his core. And I don’t think he needs his ate anymore.

So hi, non-existent sibling. I need you. If you were younger than me, I’d try my hardest to be better so you won’t lose hope in the world the way I almost did. I’d try my best to help you with your homework and give advice on whatever it is you’re going through. I give myself very good advice, you see, but I very seldom follow it. I’d want you to talk to your friends or me when you’re down because I know what it feels like to have to rely on yourself to feel better because you just don’t want to bother anyone else with your problems. Don’t feel that way. Tell me everything. I don’t want you to suffer like I did.

If you were older than me, I  just want to know that I have someone to rely on. I have a few older guy cousins so I guess I also knew for a bit what it was like to have kuyas, but as with everything else, time kind of pulled us apart.

I want to tell you so much about everything that’s bothering me. I want to tell you how much I wanted to move away because as much as I love my (our?) parents, I can’t stand being un-religious in a religious family. I want to know if you’re starting to lose hope in organized religion too. I want to tell you how lost I feel and how I’m sick of the future being a complete mystery. I want to ask you if I should be a writer or a lawyer. I want you to tell me if I’m being too introverted, too detached, too neurotic, too stressed for my own good. I want to rant about work to you. I want to tell you that I like this boy but I don’t know how to talk to him. I want you to tell me if my weird is still at the normal threshold. I want you to be there for me during those times when I just don’t feel so strong anymore.

But I can’t will you into existence. All I can do is thank you because your non-existence has taught me how to rely on myself…a lot. I learned how to be strong and independent. I learned to value my friends even more because they are the closest thing I have to siblings. It sucks being both introverted and an only child with no siblings to share stupid family trips and Stepford subdivisions with. I wanted so bad for you to exist so at least someone will somehow understand what it’s like to be me. Maybe in a parallel universe you do exist, and if I had the power to meet you I will.

And so I end my letter with a bittersweet farewell to the sibling I never met. I know you don’t exist, but I guess I can make you exist in someone else. Hi. I wish you were here. I have so many things to tell you.

Also, you have one hell of a sister.