moved !

in solidarity and celebration, i’ll be nomination my lovely, lovely sister, @flowerjensen for #givelovetoday:

We aren’t sick. We aren’t poor. We aren’t dying. We’re a middle class family of five, my sister the oldest, my brother the middle, me the youngest. I’ve never been the most sociable kid, despite the people who know me today that’d argue otherwise. I barely talked, kept to myself, and read until I fell alseep on the pages. I wasn’t like my sister, Deena --- raising hell, making friends, gaining maturity. She was an idol that I never found the courage to aspire after. I was always too scared, too lonely, to quiet. I didn’t make many friends that lasted, and got bullied from kindergarten to the first grade. I never said anything about it, but I had learned what anxiety meant from an age too young, a mind too fragile. Deena was my closest friend, joined at the hip and we liked it that way. I’d get lost, I’d leave the house without telling anyone, I’d get myself into trouble with my parents. She was my shoulder to cry on, she still is. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay her for that.

By the time I’d graduated elementary school, I was stressed beyond comprehension. School, friends, and my own worried secrecy led to crying often, and with no way to explain it. I’d chalk it up to anything else but ‘I write with people on Tumblr. Somehow, this is a life-changing secret that my anxiety won’t let me tell you, in fears that the only person I trust more than anyone will make fun of me.’ I grew a debilitating fear of saying the word ‘roleplay,’ out loud. I thought she’d hate me, call me weird, remind me of what it felt like to be bullied. I told her at 2AM on a dateless night at the end of last year. It rolled right off her back. I didn’t sleep for two nights straight, but I felt relieved. Deena is the only person in my life who knows the things I keep to myself. My trust for her grows by the day, and I see it being reciprocated at the same rate. 

I’m fourteen and she’s eighteen, but we are inseparable, still. I’m fed up with everyone and everything, but not her. Never her. I look to her for guidance, for laughter, for the light that too often gets blown out by my own worry. I know she’s stressed --- stressed people know all the signs, y’know? --- but she never shows it. She’s strong and wise and sets everything aside for my future and happiness. She started watching Supernatural because I begged her, helps me with my homework because of my procrastination, takes the fall for my mountains of mistakes. With such an age gap, such a giant bridge between interests, she makes time for me. She cares for me constantly. I’m making steps to overcome my anxiety, and she is the reason for that.

Thank you, Deena, for being the brightest light of my life. I hope you find the most wondrous happiness in life and wish you the best.