I wish to smother her sometimes, with the fluffy pillow she sleeps on, peacefully, while I get ready for school. I wish to set her straight with a few slaps now and then, till she learns to respect me. I hate it when Appa sides with her, that devil. She isn’t innocent, but a huge pain. The way she opens her mouth full of half chewed food to talk endlessly and doesn’t need glycerin for fake tears to get things done her way. I am forbidden to hit her and if by mistake, I touch her slightly, she makes a hue and cry. She is growing taller than me. This day should never come in any elder sister’s life. Alas, there I am fat and short, teased by her rants and taunts.
But I love her to the moon and back. After a hectic day, she makes me laugh with her stupidity and sometimes shares chocolate with me, her prized possession. And whenever I look at her, that round and cherub face, I remember the day she was born. I had held her, my baby sister and smiled. She was a perfect twister.