She was my best friend. She was the one who  was always by my side when my friends would let me down. We grew up together, only fourteen  months apart, my sister and me. Our mother was different from other mothers. She cared so much about our well-being that she restricted our freedom. She did this by raising us to yearn sweets because we were not given any, and she rarely let us watch TV as pre-teens.  

When she walked into the room, I knew something would happen. The six hours of sleep I was relying on completely vanished. I looked up at her from my desk with bloodshot eyes, worn from the blinding light of my laptop, and snapped at her, asking why she was bothering me. On most days when I was my grumpy self, she looked at me confusedly and quickly told me what she needed help with.  Other times, she gave me a message from our mother. Today was different. My sister was fed up. She’s been like this before; tantrums after a burst of built-up jealousy, or even small fistfights when I borrow what's hers, but never this extreme. She shouted, saying that I had no reason to be mean to her, and I replied telling her I was just tired. She accused me of always being tired and suggested that I sleep instead of staying up all night watching Netflix. I looked straight at her, angry that she outed me to my mother, who is extremely uptight about technology use before sleep. I was cornered, knowing that she got me in trouble enough for my mom not to let the older sibling go unpunished this time. Compared to me, my sister also realized  that what she revealed to my mom would get me in serious trouble and would be a story that she would repeat every single time she was in a fight with me. She would say that I’m always wasting my time and staying up all night watching TV shows. Even now, sitting in my desk chair, I can imagine my mom shaking her head in disappointment. 

I realized that my sister dashed out of the study room and ran down the stairs, hoping to avoid a fight with me. I didn't care anymore. I followed her into the kitchen and started yelling to my sister that she was an evil brat who spent too much time on her phone making stupid videos with her friends. My mom was taken aback by all of the shouting at 10 in the morning on a Sunday. Registering what was happening, she questioned me if what Melissa was saying was true. Disregarding what my mother asked me completely, I let go of my ability to listen, I was done. Even for something so minimal, so minor, my anger grew. I thought of the times I caught my sister also wasting her time and hanging out with her friends on Facetime instead of studying. I felt so angry, so mad. 

My head throbbed while I shouted that my sister got away with so many things when she needed to focus on studying more than me. It is so unfair that I had to spend hours studying on the weekends when she went  out with her friends from school. I felt so jealous that she had best friends that lasted so long. I was jealous that she didn't have to start fresh. My sister retaliated by saying one phrase she loved throwing at me: you have no friends. My sister knows that's not true and plays with my anxiety when saying that. Her comment made me think that I had no friends, and the people I just hung out with were talking to me out of pity. I screamed, feeling trapped in a room full of cloudy and hazy thoughts. I ran to the main entrance of the house and raced up the winding staircase. I stomped back into the study room and felt like one of those disgruntled and immature teenagers in one of those coming-of-age movies that were cliche. I pulled open my sister's desk drawer and spotted one thing that made me frown even more: I found a 3D printed 

plate with my sister's name, Melissa, printed on it, which I made for her. She didn’t deserve this. I snatched a sharpie from her desk and drew all over it. After ruining the white piece of plastic junk, I tossed it back into the drawer, shut it, and went back to doing homework, completely forgetting about the fight ten  minutes later. 

I  was reminded of the fight two days later when my sister asked me if I drew on her 3D printed name. I said no. I was shocked, finally remembering what I’d done to it. I thought back to the jealousy I felt and immediately looked away from my sister, feeling guilty for what I said to her two days before. I looked away from the ruined piece of plastic with the confusing scribbles of blue sharpie and anger. 

 Looking back on this moment, we’ve drifted apart. Now, after so many tiring quarrels, I have spent more time away from my sister than with her. Our relationship is like a roller coaster, constantly changing with our moods. After so long, I’ve given up and accepted her habit of wasting her time on social media and her habit of making fun of me for my little insecurities. Although I feel disappointed in my sister, I have tried to help her gain a routine of studying and balancing her social life, but the action of adopting it is her job.