Dearest Older Sister,

You are probably wondering why I am ignoring you. I’m still quite salty about the unplugged NintendoSwitch incident. But let’s get down to the nitty gritty part of this whole situation.

Quite frankly, I am a bit relieved and glad that you postpone to your wedding. I honestly think that you are not ready to be married. Do you know why? Because I don’t think you got your shit together.

Reasons Why You Don’t Get Your Shit Together:

You are a slob. You don’t bother to fold your clothes anymore. I don’t even remember the last time you EVER did the laundry. Your room is such a mess that it takes all the willpower I have to not burn everything to ashes. And don’t even get me started on your ever-growing pile on the dining table. You know how embarrassing it is when someone comes through the door and got greeted with that?
Your fiance is not really improving you. If anything, he condones to your bratty personality and if you don’t have it “your way”, then you ignore him until he gives into your demand. And yeah.. I don’t really see you guys have kids anytime soon because you are both immature, so ironically you are made for each other. He still acts like a bachelor (e.g. not putting the toilet seat down, not washing his plates after use, not showering after all day at work and dirtied the bedsheets).
You are obsessed with collecting shit. From headbands to shoes, you just have to buy, buy, buy. Thank god, you threw out the headbands. (They were horrendous! Sorry not sorry.) But your shoe collection is preventing me from going to my cabinet of clothes that I don’t use anymore since I gave up on playing tetris with your shoe boxes and your pile of bags. Like mother said, if you don’t use those shoes, then they will break apart easily of no usage. Now let’s talk about your weird obsession with leggings, shall we? I know you were fat back then and your outfits consisted of plain shirts/simple printed shirts with leggings, but I think you have enough, don’t you think? You can’t even wear half of the leggings you own and you keep buying clothes even though you have the same pair or something similar to what you just bought. Have you seen the many plain white or black shirts I found in your pile?
You are just darn lazy. I get it. You have a somewhat demanding job as of market assistant at some mall with a boss who is interested in mixing her pleasure with business trips and fine dining. You paid off bills that our shopaholic mother keeps forming from buffets to dogs. But I would be more thankful if you can help me purge our closets and piles together. Because newsflash: THE. THINGS. THAT. WE. OWN. DOES. NOT. MAKE. US. WHO. WE. ARE. It’s the experience. Most of the clothes I own doesn’t spark “joy” in me anymore. So what do I do with them? I sent them to the Philippines or trash them. And trust me, it does feel good letting go of things that hold us down. However, it is quite difficult to let go of things while they are mixed in with your things. You have clothes that you don’t wear anymore. LET. THEM. GO. Because you know why? Because “someday” is never going to happen and those “what-if” is just preventing you to move forward.
You still treat me like a little girl. I know you are nine years my senior, but seriously? You said it yourself, “I will be fine. It’s about time [fiance’s name] helps with renting an apartment with me. I have him.” Those were your words when I came to you babbling to you about wanting to move in a new place with my colleague/close friend. But watching you how you interact with your fiance and your living conditions… I can’t help but feel worried about you because in the end, I am your sister and clearly you are not fine with how things are. So. Frickin. Do. Something. About. It. And I feel like a personal maid than a sister.

This rant is probably the result of feeling abandoned by you. We used to journal together. I miss those moments. But your excuse is that work was busy, that you were tired, and/or that you made plans already. You told me that your reason to journal is so that you don’t forget events that happen. I will tell you mine.

I journal as a type of therapy for my depression.

Don’t know if you care enough to read my posts on instagram, but hey. It’s kind of there in plain sight. Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. I’m trying to organize all thoughts in my mind, but it’s quite difficult when my surroundings are always a mess.

I know you know that you don’t like how things are right now. Here’s your chance.