The ego is never good

Colin can make her luggage cheaper to go to college. She folds into a pile of clothes, her fine heads are cleverly arranged in a nasty bread, and a golden chain is wrapped around her face. She wraps and packs socks in a labyrinthine forest left by a pile of clothes. Her movements are thoughtful and smooth, as if she were in bed. I saw her chew the wipe in a quiet corner outside the door of her room. I'm still wearing my pajamas, so I'm not taking a shower today. I am delighted to stare at her and hear my voice in her head. Please wait for me. Wait your turn. I have to go first. I am the eldest son. I am the wisest. A little more worth it *

Ten months after Colin was born, we were connected. We were ColleenandCara. Speak while exhaling in one breath. A pair of girls, a couple of friends, two sisters. The Irish word is Gaeilge, where "cailín" means woman and "cara" means friend. We're always compared and compared to each other, and I'm always on top I've always been the "talented" sister. When we were in elementary school, my father enrolled us in violin lessons. Colleen pulled a horse bow along the prefecture to the bark of the cat, unaware when it became a minus in the prefecture and needed adjustment, and burst into tears when the scaly mention was made. I conquered the vibrato by mastering the upbow technique several hours a day until the violin sang like a soprano. I was playing Mozart's concerto while Colin was still wrestling with her arpeggio. Colin is "universal". If society is a school of fish, Colin is following the path of happiness in it. She is easy to talk to, easily likes and can always make friends. She's cute, fun, and perfectly average. She is studying nursing to help others.

At school she ran on a cross-country team. She didn't have their star runners, but she ensured she was reliable, reliable, and located somewhere inside. The middle never appealed to me. I believe that good things are better than being loved. At school, I didn't want to be normal. I wanted to be a genius. My musical craftsmanship was tightly integrated into my personality, and I found Colin a joy to remind me of my light and her mediocrity. When she appeared in a school play, when I wasn't, when she was selected to the cross-country team, like when I wasn't, I had to despise her little success. She was average in many ways I was talented in one thing.

My father raised me to Gumson and a respectable child. Colin smiled and put up with everything. She came to my violin competition and had patience to listen to my boring technical songs. "Congratulations, Color" She laughed brightly at me every time my name was called by the first prize winner. I'm graciously grateful, sneaking a glance at the fact that she hasn't mastered anything but the way she follows her foot gravel road. Watch out for your sister, Dad told Colin. She can be difficult to adapt. Genius is always so. So Colin took me to "socialize" she joked. Her friend, a group of peculiar girls, I didn't like very much. They wore ridiculous clothes saying ridiculous when I was ridiculous, and I thought I was awkward. And I thought they were better than them in the stupid quarrels of the boys. "I'm different from other women," I told Colin. "Why don't you want to be like other women?" "They aren't interested in what's important. I don't think I am talented. " "And the superiority complex happens again," she sighed. "I won't make friends who act that way." "I don't need my friends." "What are we if we don't have friends?" I saw her. "We are sisters." * Seeing her packing her luggage, we think of our childhood. Colin was younger than me, but always stronger. She was able to run faster than any other child in the playground. "Wait for me!" Occasionally I forgot when she lost her way to the thrill of racing. I struggle to catch up, knowing that I'm never fast enough. But Colin always remembered me. She turned her head to slow down so I could catch up with her, and I approached her and squeezed Banultam, pointing out scratches on her shoes and clothes, and the fact that I was jealous. I hid it. She does something better than I do. *

My father told me time and time again that I can do whatever I want to do with his talent. I was admitted to college with a full music scholarship that skyrocketed the advanced music program at school. He and Colin made me pounding. My possibilities were about to be fully revealed. But it was too difficult. They don't say the same as school because of college. Less help. You work for yourself. Colleen diagnosed me as a "superiority complex" and the Student Advisor smoothly suggested that it would be transferred to other students and faculty. "Difficult" was their word. It is difficult to work and difficult to manage. The orchestra made a fuss, when I rowed other violinists and none of them declared that I had no talent. You may have been a big fish in a small pond at home, but now you are one of many fish, I warned from the conductor. I play alone. I told him the same. he told me to leave Since it was not easy for my sister to move through the crowd naturally, I tried to interact or communicate.

I liked chromatic practice more than drinking alcohol, so I kept spending time alone in my room. My roommate banged hard on my door which silenced me during my early morning practice session. I was struggling to do something within 6 weeks. I stopped eating and stopped showering. I stopped playing the violin. The case was untouched and dusty, and I set it aside until my dad and Colin drove a car to save me. I haven't played games since then. I hid in my room, a hermit, and thought of my failure. Colleen took the exam surrounded by friends who had spent her last year in junior high school. I happened to hear a hot conversation between Colin and my father. Her words were delivered through the walls of our house. I was sitting in my room listening. "Don't you know how difficult it is to bend down to help her all the time? And for what? She doesn't care. She doesn't say "thank you". Do you know I have to bring her and go multiple places can't go over and over? I can't hold my life forever. I don't want to continue myself and compromise. I love her But it's like pulling your own weight around. " *

Wait for the weight, Colin, I think I'm seeing that she is organizing her life and preparing for a new beginning. I want to appeal to her. Waiting. for me. Do it for me. Colin, I want to ask. I have nothing else. Eat this, I tap her open door and stand inside. Colin's bedroom is decorated in pink and white with crappy pictures of her and her friends, her and my father, her and I. "If I ask you to wait for me... Please wait until I get back to college... You?" I ask. She starts to drop loose socks. She sighed. Completely dry One of her hair is swaying on her face. She doesn't wear socks. She stretches straight and touches her arms. "What are you waiting for? Wait a year until you're ready to go home?" So that you were once behind me? " "Yes" I flinched. When she says it, it even sounds terrible. "You don't mind me at all, Kara?" "Yes." "Then you wouldn't ask." starts crying. The last act of despair. Please, Colin. I gesture to myself. "Look at me. I don't have anything but a violin, and I don't have any more. When I'm still here, do you know how hard it is to see you leave? It was me. I'm a good person."

She is looking out the window. I think she ignores me, but she says. "Do you remember when I played for a cross-country team a few years ago? You had a violin tournament I held the tournament. They were on the same day, at another time. You The competition was first. You did it to watch me cross the finish line to see me finish my race. asked to come After winning the tournament, you were too tired. I asked you to wait another few hours so you, me, and Dad could go home together. I asked you to wait for me. And you said you weren't. And Dad brought you to your house because he's always with you. Then I went back to the bus and got on the lift. I am selfish I shook my head. "I don't remember." "Wait for me."

She looks at me now. And you just said no. Your father doesn't care or make any excuses for you. I know now. I knew then. She leaves the room. Pick up the dropped socks. I paired them up and pushed them cleanly into the bag along with her other belongings and placed them very beautifully. Then I sit on the floor and watch her many possessions. When I moved, I brought only a backpack and a violin. I thought I didn't need anything else. But looking at her bag now, and taking it with a friend Colin, I think how different my experience would be.