youngest daughter

and the amy march effect ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི

They always said I’m spoiled. That I had it easy. But i wish they could experience the silence I felt

How quiet the house got when my brother moved out.

How I often shallowed my own truths and beliefs just to keep the peace.

I’d say being the youngest daughter has been the biggest curse and treasure I’ve ever felt.

It’s what made me who I am today.

I feel like I lived a life where everyone imagined their own versions of me. I’m clueless, I’m angry, I’m annoying, I’m too much, I’m naive.

I am the youngest in the family of 5. I have an older brother, who used to pick on me like siblings do. I used to “hate” him a lot. I “hated” him so much that I wanted to become him.

I hated the way he’s always right. I hated how brutally honest he is, even when I deserve it. I hate how perfect he felt to me. I never saw my parents yell at him. I never saw him argue with them. He’s funnier than me. Smarter than me. Better than me than I could be in any lifetime.

I always told myself he’s the favorite in the family. Even when my parents tell me they love us both equal. I just don’t understand how I can be the favorite when he exists.

I built up walls. Soft at first, but are easily breakable. One wrong move and I’d break on the floor. I don’t talk about my feelings because the ache of being overlooked, and unheard hurts more than trying to perform.

I didn’t know real struggle. But then how do you explain how I am trying to prove I am not just a decorative piece in my family. That I have issues, challenges, that have always gotten overlooked.

I remember last year, I was going through a messy breakup after my first situationship shattered my heart. My older brother told me it could of been worse, and that he didn’t want to hear about it anymore. My dad didn’t want to hear about it anymore. I really only had my mom who dried my tears, held me when I cried, and listened to me for hours.

Looking back on it a year later, I understand why that situation stuck with me for so long. Not because my brother was cruel or my dad didn’t care, but because growing up as the youngest, I often felt like i had to minimize my feelings to make them matter.

With my brother, he was always someone who had more experiences, someone who already gone through phases of life I am currently in. Whenever I was upset, there was always an expectation that I would get over it quickly.

Over time, I’ve become so used to minimizing my feelings that I just stopped trusting them. Every time something hurt me, I was searching for reasons why I shouldn’t. Reasons why I was overreacting. Reasons why I am being dramatic and my family is always right.

I always thought I was never enough. Not smart enough—not mature enough—not confident enough. I’ve spent so much of my life comparing myself to my brother that I convinced myself he’s everything I’m not.

As I’ve gotten older, I realized I never wanted to be him. I wanted the certainty I thought he had. I wanted to be heard like he was, have a big group of friends, and be confident in myself and not be scared to let love into my life. I want to be understood without having to explain myself over and over again.

Not only was the comparison to my brother unfair to him, it was unfair to myself. He was just the person who happened to beat me to it. He had his own struggles, his own insecurities, and his own challenges that I couldn’t see from where I was standing.

Watching Little Women, I always found myself relating to Amy March cause of her determination and poised personality. I never felt noticed in a crowded room unless I made a spectacle. I never felt taken serious because I am youngest and often petted for my immaturity.

I grown up surrounded by people who already established who they are, and it constantly feels like I’m playing catch up. It feels like I’m a shadow puppet and my brother is the puppeteer.

I think that is why I’ve always loved Amy March. She is often remembered as spoiled, dramatic, and attention-seeking, but I always saw a girl who wanted to be taken seriously. A girl trying to decide who she is, when everyone had already decided for her.

Maybe this is the Amy March curse: feeling like I am always standing in someone else’s shadow. But maybe it’s also a gift. After years of comparing myself to everyone around me, I eventually realized that there was no one I needed to become.

My brother was never competition. He was just the first person I measured myself against.

I spent years trying to prove I was more than someone’s little sister, only to realize I never learned to be myself.

~ emily ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆