This Is What It Is

by Safia Chilakapati

 

The truth of the matter is this:

You are my sister by blood – but most importantly to you,

by law.

If legal chains did not bind you to me,

you’d be gone faster than daddy’s first car,

the Infinity,

the one you were supposed to drive when you turned 16.

My truth of the matter is this:

You are the voices in my head,

every doubt in my mind.

I put up walls that grow thicker and thicker still

because the voices get louder,

because I’m too afraid of what will happen

when I’m not afraid anymore.

My confession to the world is this:

I watched my family lose a daughter,

lose a sister,

watched you leave over and over again.

I watched as I unraveled

and I couldn’t bring myself to try and stop it.

My confession to you is this:

I am tired of needing a sister-

Tired of feeling like I’m not “sister” enough to be needed.

In Telugu, Akka means older sister.

But that’s a lie, isn’t it?

You aren’t my older sister.

14 years of you being my Akka,

and all I have to show for it is half sister.

I will not spend another 14 earning the rest.

My goodbye to you is this:

This has been a long time coming –

years of feeling the kind of dejection a child should never,

years of trusting manipulation

more than the words coming out of my own mouth.

But I’ve molded myself to fit you and the way you see me.

You are my sister,

but I am not yours…

am I?

 

Safia Chilakapati is a freshmen in creative writing department at the High School for the Performing and Visual Arts. She likes to play volleyball, read books in the rain, and write poetry at midnight.