Void

Nothing in this world is ever truly quiet. There is sound happening everywhere no matter how minuscule the movement. Typically I would want nothing more than to hear a voice but I suddenly craved silence. In the car, at home, in the streets. It was the one thing that was never lacking in my life. Because it didn't matter where we were but I couldn't get this girl to stop talking. Siblings, am I right? Best friends at birth and bonded by blood. We were inseparable and unmistakably, sisters. Some even asked if we were twins. In our younger years, I would've happily agreed but now I did everything to be different. I shaved my head, dyed my hair, and got piercings and tattoos. She stayed plain, as a Jane does. At first, it did not occur to me how much space she took up. How little work it took her to consume the air around her. That was just who she was. And I was nothing but a space filler. It was possible that she thought of me in frustration for being so opposite. I was quiet and small, but with her, I could be lively and playful. With her, I felt like I could be who I was meant to be. She was the safest place and the one I loved. I guess you can never honestly know how others perceive you.

It wasn't just that she was a sister or the only thing I had left of my family. There truly was a special glimmer to her spirit that showered everything with care. Because of that, she had stories and jokes to last a lifetime. But I was never in them, I could only listen and wonder how full her life could be. How full her life was with or without me and how small I was in comparison. It’s not that I wasn’t there, it’s just that I wasn’t interesting. While all the people dazzled over Jane, people looked through me like glass. I was nothing special, like every piece of glass they’ve ever seen in a window. I was unremarkable and fragile. Jane was a diamond. 

“Jane was a diamond.” It was a conclusion only known to me until now and although the audience was hooked on the metaphor, I kept the ever-evolving analogy to myself. But not without a whisper of a frown. It was strange to be at the forefront of attention now. Like without her presence, they could finally acknowledge my existence. “She was a daughter, a sister, and a best friend.” I continued between breaths. Looking out at the people showed a gnarly twist of anguish smeared across the masses. Although I could only imagine the dull matrimony I would receive on this day. Would anyone even know my name? The thought made my stomach lurch in a way that would make me puke any other time. I swallowed hard to continue with my speech. Maybe my words fall on deaf ears but if this is the last time I am heard then it better count. If not for me, for Jane.

“Who is that girl?” Someone had whispered before the formalities. A trace of resemblance had always lingered between Jane and me. Perhaps the person thought they were seeing a ghost. Sometimes I imagined that was all I was. Some malicious soul-sucking phantom that had caused the very death of my beloved sister. An unwanted shadow that had chased her away. I only existed to Jane, which became increasingly obvious now that I was surrounded by people who shared in knowing this part of her life.

“I didn’t realize Jane had a sister.” The rippling shock wave of stupor was never ending as I was introduced to give a farewell speech. Surely she had mentioned me in passing. Or even by mistake. It wasn’t like I was some secret maniac, or deadbeat sibling calling to cash in an allowance for drugs. But maybe that didn’t matter. The things I thought of myself were far worse than that. Because I was nobody, even to the sister I so desperately loved. The cloud of my unworthiness anchored her in my reputation, one she so desperately wanted to escape. Jane could actually be someone, it was like that was who she was meant to be. The mark of her new home on a map was light compared to the hollow loneliness in my heart. I had to let her be free, no matter if it killed me. Each dawn glittered in my bedroom mirror, to reveal Janes every reason for running.

They tasted my name like some odd foreign candy they had never seen before. “Julie.” whispered across a crowd that proclaimed to be unfathomably close to Jane. Although at the mention of myself, there was only disarray of shrugs and looks of complete unknowingness. I wanted to smile, knowing she had escaped me. Not an inkling could be found of the bond we had once forged in steel. It had been ground to dust. Dust that was now in my eyes, causing tears of my own anguish. I had lost my sister before this day without ever knowing. Like water, she had slipped through my fingers, like how I slipped past everyone in this world. If I wasn’t needed by anyone, why was I here?

The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth when I realized I had chewed the skin off my lip, trying to keep it together. The silence was deafening as the crowd waited for me to dissolve like chalk in rain. All of them tentatively held their breath in unison. They were ready for the next thing, they wanted to say their own goodbyes. Not listen to some girl who couldn’t even get past the first sentence of her speech. They probably even doubted that I was related to Jane at all. Scammer. Yes, they all thought I was some lunatic scammer, trying to be the center of attention. This wasn’t my funeral, I should learn to cry on my own time. But surprisingly, they were patient. Or maybe they didn’t notice me at all. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” I mumbled, my face slick with tears, as I clamored away from the stand. Now desperate to find a chair before I was engulfed in the sadness of my own terrible self. It forced me down with the weight of a 100-pound chain.

Even sitting, it felt impossible to raise my head. Other people stood and spoke but I didn’t hear a word they said, although I’m sure they were all kind. A hand over my heart made it look like I was saying some pledge, but in reality, I found it hard to breathe, or maybe it felt like my heart would explode in my chest. Whatever it was, an unimaginable pain was weaseling its way in. I couldn’t measure it by glass in my throat or knives in my heart, because the experience is not my own. But I have been struck by a needle 100 times to know the difference between a poke and a jab. Every “I’m sorry.” told by both strange and familiar faces was a reality slap that could not compare to 1 million needles being wrenched into my soul at an exact moment. Something more lingered between their words, like they didn't know how to fill the void with the one thing that could actually make a difference. Maybe it was the fact that I did not wish to be felt seen by them. Only by you. And in between the silence of those moments, I wished I never had a sister, or a mother, or even a birthday.