ophie is my sister.

Not by blood, but we have a bond stronger than that.

ophie is an amazing person. She is someone I greatly admire, and cherish.

I don't know if she knows, but our conversations are worth more than all my worldly goods. She's helped me to be what I consider, a kinder, more honest, more open person.

So much has happened over the years. Lovers come and went, we strayed down paths we might not look back on always in fondness, and we grew up. We met, but never really liked each other. We only really started to talk when we realized we were waiting outside of someplace waiting for the same guy. At that point I think we realized how much common ground we had.

I am so happy, and adore the fact that we have grown so much. I am so impressed, and dazzled by the way ophie grew up, but she didn't grow cold. She is the type of person who would give the shirt off her back, to someone if she felt them to be a sincere, good person. She is still sensitive, and aware. It has a downfall, I hate seeing people abuse her openness, and when I occasionally see her hurt because someone was cruel.. it makes me livid.

ophie has a great boyfriend, and it makes me so happy for her. Her relationship is with a very old friend of ours. Seeing them together is wacky. They are so sincere, and comfortable, and so much in love. They aren't nauseating or sappy.. although I admit a twinge of envy .. heh.. but I am so glad she found someone worthy of her, and who treats her with the respect, love, and admiration that she deserves.

as you see.. I love my sister.. She is someone who has a good heart, and a sharp mind. She is also human, and has her faults.. but is admirable in the way she doesn't deny it. She openly admits it, to herself and the world.. and that to me is stregnth.

Oh.. and together we could drink large groups of people under the table.. we've proved that at lushcon and pumpcon.

These are just a few of the reasons why I am proud to have ophie as my sister.
Renee isn't my sister by blood, but she's closer than that. We met during our first few days together at Simon's Rock College, and immediately felt a bond.

Over the next few months, she became one of the most important people there, as far as I was concerned. Despite the foot difference in our heights, she somehow started calling me "Bro". That touched a place inside me I hadn't even known existed. I grew up as an only child, and I'd never known what it was like to feel.. fraternal.

She was one of my best friends for the next two years. Then, unfortunately, she left Simon's Rock. Since then, we have drifted apart, but I still feel this wonderful thrill when I get a message on ICQ saying "Hey, Bro."

You were a middle child. Your older sister was a blazing star of a girl, intelligent, talented, beautiful, a Halley’s Comet of a woman. Your younger brother was autistic. In their own particular way, each of them demanded attention, and there is only so much of that that parents can give. You were smart. Good at what you did. You were pretty when young, plain as a teenager as your face and body filled out from an undiagnosed eating disorder. You believed you were alone. You always wanted to be more than your sister but also less, less because you loved her so much that you wanted nobody, not even you, to outshine her; less because you knew that nothing could ever outshine her.

You didn’t know her, really.

These last few months you have got to know her, a little, become closer than you ever were, perhaps. As little girls you were best friends. Later, in the dark years which you are only just beginning to emerge from, you were estranged; you were strangers. Had you passed each other in the street, you would not have recognised each other. There were times when you thought you didn’t love her. You were wrong. Gradually, she has crept back into your heart and ripped away the veneer of estrangement that had lately grown there: and then, in one blazing night of drugs and drink and dance, you grasped each other by the upper arms and said I love you, I love you. And then you know what it was to be a sister. You her only sister, and she yours. Permanent, unshakeable, more so than mere friends or lovers could ever hope to be.

Curiously, the closer you have grown, like two old trees intertwining their trunks and roots, the more you have come to see the knots and flaws in her bark. You always knew she was imperfect, but never the full extent of the rot. It goes deep. Too deep for comfort. She is cruel—not to you, not directly, but nevertheless the cruelty is there, in the way she turns up her large Egyptian nose and the way she fills silences with her almond-like eyes. With her boyfriend she is a bully, an out-and-out Machiavelli. When they split up and she leaves for Scotland, you and he become good friends. More like brother and sister than friend and friend. You suspect he wants more, but know that if you ever dared cross that line, you would always feel like a newer, cheaper, supermarket-own-brand of your sister. Which is not to say that you want to cross that line. He is better as a brother. Your sister always did attract wonderful people.

Your sister—what more can I say? She is an Ozymandias among women, a single mother who left school at 15 but, nonetheless, has made it to university. A natural and exotic beauty. When she dances, she dances with her eyes closed and her body moving like a pillar of golden syrup.

What more can I say? She is the one person you would die for, give up anything for. She is your sister. She is yours.

You are my queen.

You are so much cooler than I will ever be. You kissed nine boys on New Year's Eve and I stood completely alone, in a smoky crowd. It probably gave you Glandular fever but I'd bet you'd say it was worth it. You are five years younger than me. You are like a firebolt, bright energy racing across the sky. You are tall and blonde and utterly, devestaingly gorgeous but I won't ever be jealous because it is a privledge to know you. When you were a baby I was the big sister but you have far outstripped me. I'm sorry that I come to you for clothes and makeup advice, because you should be the one to come to me. I can't offer you much in return.

You are sixteen years old and magnificent.

Please don't make yourself vomit, deep in the night anymore. Quit dance, if it makes you this anxious and sick. But you love it. Being on stage with the big smiles and glittery hairspray, the co-ordination and shoes. You have other sisters, thin twins who have more in common with you than me. But we are bound by blood and I'm not going to let you go. Do not take up the blade across your arm again. This is my one prayer.

I want to be as brave as you. I want to be able to look after you. But I can't. My greatest hope is that one day I will be able to and my greatest regret is how long it is taking. I am failing you. I am sorry. Take care, my darling, my queen, my sister.

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