Katty Anderson

Every person in your life makes an impact and teaches you a lesson.

This feeling of wanting and yet not wanting it at all is odd. I have always imagined what it would be like to have siblings. To have someone to argue with, someone to share the blame with when things go wrong, someone who gets it without you having to explain yourself.

The more I speak to people with siblings, the more I come to understand that they sort of hate it. They would want to avoid the drama, the competition, the noise, and the mess brought along by having brothers and sisters. Honestly? I kind of understand.

But I also can’t help but feel a bit jealous. 

I have always been an only child, the one with all the attention, good or bad. It’s a dream come true, isn’t it? More presents on birthdays, all the love during holidays, and none of the fights. But after a while, it grows old. 

Sure, I get to do what I want whenever I want. Nobody nags me to do my chores, nobody steals my clothes, and I get to be in control of it all. That freedom is definitely something I can always appreciate. It’s like having my own little world where I can do whatever I want. There’s a sense of entitlement being the only one. 

But with all good things comes a price. My parents, for all the love in the world, sometimes just take it a couple of steps too far. I get it, they want me safe, and walk me through every decision. Sometimes, I feel more like a project rather than a person. They’re constantly texting me to check up on me, reminding me what I should and shouldn’t be doing, where I should and shouldn’t go, and what I should and shouldn’t be thinking about. 

To be forthright, all this is tiring. Sometimes, I want to tell them to take a step back, give me space, and allow me to make the mistakes on my own. It’s as if they can’t let go because, in their eyes, I’m the only one they have. 

And yet, for all the space there is to think, this lingering loneliness follows me everywhere I go. It hits when the world is quiet, when my friends are busy, and other people have someone special to share their day with just how empty my house really feels. 

Of course, I have all the time in the world for myself, but time alone and time in isolation feel very different. I have no one to share in my boredom or inside jokes with. It’s just me, myself, and I. That is not always the most amazing company when you’re looking for something extra. 

I feel torn between loving my independence and wishing I had a sibling to share it with. The attention is a blessing and a curse; I appreciate the space, yet at times, when it gets too silent, I really do wonder how it would have been if there was someone else to occupy the space. It’s human nature to want what we do not have. Perhaps this is just part of growing up and maturing.