My younger sister has always acted strangely and managed to do exactly what I do. She not only appears to imitate everything I do from talking to outfits, speech, tone, and accent, but also appears to destroy every standing relationship I have with anyone. Everyone who is for me is her enemy until she manages to win them to her side.
At first, I thought it was adorable, a little sister simply looking up to her older sister. I remember the first time I noticed her mimicking me. I was five years old, proudly wearing my favorite pink dress as I twirled around the living room. There she was, a tiny version of myself, wearing a similar dress and trying to imitate my every move. I laughed then, thinking it was just a phase. But as the years rolled on, I realized this wasn’t just a phase; it was an unsettling pattern.
It wasn’t such a big deal in the sight of our parents that her discussions only center on things I am doing, no new ideas. Whenever I brought home new interests or hobbies, she would pursue the same endeavours with an intensity that baffled me. She started singing because I was singing, then she stopped and took dance classes just as I did, and she always acted fascinated with just about anything I have or do until she does the same and then proceeds to make everyone see that she does it better. I could see the glimmer of challenge in her eyes, almost as if she were competing, but with me. “Look at me, look how much better I am at this,” she seemed to say silently.
It escalated further when I noticed how everyone around us, from friends to relatives, would shift their affections towards her. I would introduce her to my friends, expecting them to bond over common interests. Instead, each time, she’d find a way to take over the conversation, directing it towards her achievements, her stories, her version of reality. I would stand there, invisible, like a ghost in my own life. It felt bizarre, as if I were living in a shadow of my own making.
I grew a dislike for everything she imitates, wanting desperately to have something that was just me. It wasn’t just the imitation that bothered me; it was the reluctance of others to see what she was doing. I began to feel a bitter sense of helplessness, feeling robbed of my identity. I would wear a new outfit, and a few days later, she would wear something strikingly similar. Whenever I picked a new hobby, she would crop up, ready to dive into it, claiming it as her favorite the moment she sensed my excitement.
The emotional toll it took on me was exhausting. My friends started whispering when she was around, unsure of how to balance their loyalties. One day, I overheard them discussing how they’d rather spend time with her; she was so entertaining, so committed to always upstaging me. Each whisper cut deeper than the last. I was left feeling isolated, as if there was a wall between me and the world I once felt part of.
I became very uncomfortable with this trend and couldn’t even report it because, for some reason, mother indulged her. I would bring up my concerns to her, attempting to explain how strained my relationships were becoming, how my individuality felt threatened. But she would simply smile, brushing off my feelings with the belief that my sister was just “enthusiastic.”
Frustration turned into resentment, and I began to withdraw. Friends became fewer, laughter faded, and I found solace in books and my little corner in the world. I sought people unconnected to my sister, trying to find a piece of myself that wasn’t in competition with her. I learned to cherish the quiet moments, the solitary joys, finding strength in my independence from the noise she created around me.
As I navigated through these challenges, I yearned for a time when sisterhood felt like a bond and not a battle. It was a journey of learning about myself and the intricate ways our relationships can evolve. Embracing the complexity of respect and identity slowly became my beacon, guiding me as I stood firm against the overwhelming tide of imitation.