You’re so fucking hard to love!

If it weren’t for the fact that you were my sister, I would’ve never bothered with you. However, the universe played a cruel joke on me, so I’m forced to have you as my younger sister. I tried; I genuinely did, but with every trial I face challenges and difficulties I wish I didn’t need to encounter. You are nothing like me. You are a people pleaser, trying to disguise your people-pleasing tendencies as a part of your charm. You try to act confident, but your insecurities hide in a thin, see-through bush that anyone with functioning eyes can see. You try but fail every time. 

And I hate that for you; I hate that for me too. I try to be understanding, to perhaps build you up, yet my fierce personality makes it impossible. I can’t and don’t know how to deal with fragility; I can’t even deal with my own fragility. I hate the weaknesses that come from vulnerability, though I don’t mind yours. What I mind is your weak attempt to hide that vulnerability, the hurt. I hate that you try to hide it to appear strong and, in a way, please the person hurting you because you’re able to withstand their attempt at putting you down. They get away with doing damage that they don’t have to clean up after. Your hurt is visible, so visible that I want to take it away from you. Yet your attempt to seem strong makes it impossible. 

Loving you becomes a burden because you have burdened yourself with the responsibility of being easy to love, and in the process, you have forgotten to love yourself. How am I supposed to love you and see you thrive and flourish when you’re actively diminishing yourself in an attempt to receive love? You are stubborn, but not in a self-beneficial way; your stubbornness is what’s actively harming you. If you were stubborn enough to make yourself happy and satisfied, I wouldn’t mind it because that’s something that could gradually change. However, your stubbornness is to make others happy or to not make them unhappy with you. You bottle everything up inside of you, actively harming yourself. You are nothing like me, yet just like me. You carry all my flaws yet none of my advantages. 

How am I supposed to love a flawed version of myself? You carry all the traits I despise, whereas our other younger sister carries all of my advantages, with almost none of my flaws. She’s vulnerable but still knows how to prioritize herself. She knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to get it. In contrast to her, you always compromise, without even having been asked to. You’re always ready to give up your favorite things without any fight. I hate it, I hate how weak you are. I genuinely want you to be the best version of yourself, but there’s no building you up. Rather, it’s easier to tear you down, and I find myself constantly fighting that urge because it’s just so hard. Had you been strong or selfish at least, I would’ve seen a way to make you the best version of yourself, but with your current state of pleasing people, I find myself losing brain cells trying to teach you to prioritize yourself. 

Everyone thinks you’re sweet, so sweet. I agree, you’re as sweet as sugar cane. But what’s the point of being sweet when it benefits everybody else except for you? I pray every day that God saves you, because I clearly don’t have the patience or the strength to.