I always despised my older sister. That truth sits in my chest like a stone, heavy and impossible to move.
To me, she was everything I didn’t want to become—uneducated, constantly exhausted, smelling faintly of bleach and cheap soap. She worked as a cleaner, scrubbing other people’s messes for a living, always counting coins at the end of the month, always worrying about debt. When friends asked about her, I avoided the topic. When classmates talked about ambitious siblings and successful families, I stayed quiet.
