The Middle Child

 Born as a middle child built me to understand the importance of becoming an older sister and the patience of becoming a younger sister. Having a brother as my elder sibling, we fought a lot because I never had experienced winning against him. For having a sister as my younger sibling, we fought too since she got all she wanted. I see myself growing up in this family as a broken piece full of lies and a thirst for wishes.

The moment I started to climb the rocky mountain, becoming a junior high student, I hurt myself. I found that I was unwanted. Following my brother in the same school had my eyes opened that he was the sun of people’s eyes and I was just dust on the floor, waiting to be swept. He got the spotlight by becoming an active English Club student, won a badminton competition, became the teachers’ favorite student, and was famous for becoming perfect. He also was one of the alumnae speakers to talk on the stage, talking about his time and his goal. More perfectly, in English.

I was just his sister that people were shocked to know. They sent me hope and soon forgot what they said because they forgot I existed too. He graduated with names, and as I remembered, no one knew me. Neither my batch nor my classmates.

My sister entered one of the famous elementary schools in my city. She was clumsy but pretty. She got the perfect features and combination of my parents’ best genes. Not to act depressed, but I got the worst. Her small tiny nose is the opposite of mine. She smiles with her dimples shaped imperfectly on her cheeks yet make her even prettier. She was smart too, or is still smarter than me.

She got a high rank during her elementary years while I was barely included in the tenth best students in my class back then. Her examination scores were much better than mine and my brother’s. When I checked my score, I got the lowest score between them.

I grow up to be a person with low self-esteem and self-confidence. People know my common name, Nurul, but hardly realize that name interfered me.

These situations illustrated my whole unlucky life. Not pretty, not smart, not famous, just a girl who wanted to be appreciated.