-Charlotte
"I get it... I'm a fool that's chasing a star in the night sky.", drowned out by the sea of noise, my words of silent realization were heard by no one but myself.
It happened the night that I met that odd girl in the rain—the girl who had been clad in white and allowed the rain to pour down on her frail body, the girl who'd pushed me to envision a perfect future.
At that moment, I stood in my kitchen, staring at a small black pot of water on the stove.
My house was unusually noisy. My parents were watching some crappy old sitcom with the volume turned up too high. Laugh tracks interjected like clockwork, as artificial as the smiles they plastered on. My sister was also contributing to the noise as she scrolled through videos on her phone in the living room. She was waiting for me to finish up so she could use the kitchen herself.
She would have to wait though. Having only just put the pot on the stove, hardly anything had happened to the water inside.
Watching the water in the pot was like waiting for a miracle—painfully slow and probably not worth the effort.
My mind wandered, restless and sharp, until my eyes betrayed me, drifting toward my sister's repulsively magnificent figure.
She was just sitting there scrolling on her phone and yet all sorts of sentiments were being built up inside me. Her presence grated on me, and yet I couldn't look away.
As I watched her, I couldn't help but notice how easily she carried herself, how natural it all seemed to her. Even sitting there, her posture had this strange elegance, like someone who didn't have to try to stand out but did anyway.
I admired her.
All kinds of memories bubbled up, all of which were from a certain period of my life. When I'd transitioned from elementary to middle school. My bitterness toward my sister had only grown since the science fair incident and it pushed me to work harder than ever.
With narrowed eyes filled with determination, I wished to reinvent myself.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a tiny ember of defiance flickered. I didn't want to live in her shadow forever.
Maybe I wasn't brilliant like her, but I wasn't nothing, either. I had my own ideas, my own dreams, and my own capabilities.
The first memory of this time came from an old chessboard.
Jean had dabbled in chess during middle school, of course. Given how she is, you can imagine how good she was at the game. Effortlessly, she became one of the best players in the chess club, though it was short-lived. She quit soon after joining to explore other passing interests. In her wake, she left behind a trail of admiration she barely acknowledged.
Seeing this trail, I followed it without question.
My mind, desperate for validation, couldn't grasp the nuances of strategy. After weeks of frustration, I managed to scrape together a single, pitiful victory before quitting.
Similar to her, I quit soon after joining. Unlike her, I did so because I lacked even an ounce of talent for the game. It took me less than a month to throw in the towel.
Then came the memory of the old team jersey.
Back then I was relentless in my drive, I followed the trail of my sister's marvelous deeds to the next stop.
Swimming. Two months before I quit.
Cross country. One week before I quit.
Volleyball. Three weeks before I quit.
Religious study. Two days before I quit.
Speech and debate. Four months before I quit.
Then came the one that I was dreading.
Track and field.
Just like her, I ran the 1600.
When she ran, there was a wonderful air of grace and perfection to her form. Each step of her stride, each swing of her arm, and even each breath that she took were all the perfect fusion of skill and talent.
I watched her with bated breath and so when I was given the chance to do just as she did, I gave it all I had.
I ran the same race and pushed myself to the brink. I took those steps, swung my arms just as nicely, and took just as calculated breaths. I pushed myself to the brink of self-destruction.
But my efforts felt laughable compared to her achievements. My times were mediocre, and worse than that my endurance was lacking.
The team captain tried to reassure me when I told her that I planned to quit.
"Come on! It's only your first year, you've got plenty of time to get better.", she spoke with a sweetness that gave me a toothache, "I'll give you some summer training and-"
All those sugary optimistic words didn't matter. It was finished already. I'd already proved that my sister was superior. In my mind, she'd already become a star with such brightness and intensity that I could've never hoped to match her.
'If I can't be better than her at sports or clubs then I'll make more friends than she ever did. I'll become more popular and experience more things. Unlike her, I'll work hard to become a scholar and I'll get better grades than she ever did!'
Yeah... I'll jump up higher, I'll reach my arm up further, and one day I'll reach that star up in the sky.
Now, in my third year of high school, I've never once felt like I'd reached her heights.
By the time I'd opened my narrowed eyes and looked at where I stood, I was surrounded by people who spoke empty words. I was surrounded by people and yet I was more alone than when I'd started. All I had left was the fiery star up in the sky.
I realized then that I never had bitterness toward my sister. What I'd felt all this time was a different emotion entirely.
It was love.
A powerful love that could've only ever led to envy.
Every action I took, every decision I made, was weighed against her.
If one day that star were to disappear...
I wonder if I'd be freed from everything... For some reason, I don't think that's what would happen at all. Without the star that my life revolves around, I think I'd completely lose my way in the world. No, it would be far worse than that. I'd-
"Ah, the pot..."
The hiss of boiling water snapped me back to the present. Steam billowed from the small black pot, cascading upward in a chaotic dance before vanishing into nothingness. The water had boiled over, spilling onto the stove and sizzling angrily.
For a moment, I stared at the mess, my thoughts still chasing after the brilliance of her star.
...
I wanted to talk to her, to tell her how much I hated and admired her all at once. But the words never came. They were stuck somewhere between my pride and my fear of being dismissed.
Why am I like this? Why can't I look at her without feeling a swirl of emotions? It really wasn't her fault she was so good at everything. She didn't ask for me to compare myself to her every waking moment. If anything, I was the one who turned her into this unreachable ideal.
And yet, knowing that didn't stop the envy from creeping in, didn't stop me from blaming her for the way I felt.
...
As I cleaned up the mess on the stove, I was left with a simple thought. It was of the girl in the rain and her haunting words.
She had asked me to envision a perfect future and to attempt to reach for that distant world. But how could I, when my entire life had been spent chasing a star I could never reach?