My childhood ended long before my body and mind were ready — when I was just 11 years old. When I was 11, my sister Wendy Annakay was born. She had 10 fingers and 10 toes, eyes that were some combination of slate gray and baby blue, and a piercing cry that I would soon become very familiar with.

Cries turned into babbling and babbling into coherent sentences. Wendy is now a vibrant 6-year-old, an extension of myself (I like to think). Here is my ode to that extension of me:

1. Thank you for only peeing on me one time.

Look, kid, I get it. I was giving you a bath, and the towel was warm. Everything was warm. And you were a month old. You peed of your own volition. In your eyes, the world was your diaper, including me. It was just once though, so I think I can pardon.

2. Thank you for being the little spoon.

Insomnia gets lonely, and I was definitely an insomniac when you were little. So, I would often lift you out of your crib at night to co-sleep with me. You didn't get why, but you rolled with it. You never cried when I'd wake you, and I'd always go right to sleep with you in my arms. Forever, you are the little spoon.

3. Thank you for being a reason to stay alive.

I was not always the happiest teenager in the world. Trying to take care of everybody in the world was a stressful form of self-flagellation that I often partook in, whether I realized it or not. And it was quite literally killing me. But you were my reason to keep going, and heal... which brings me to my next point:

4. Thank you for inspiring me to be a better person.

When you're mentally ill, sometimes you become comfortable in your sadness. You don't really want to "Get Better". And to an extent, that was the case with me. I came to an epiphany, however, one night when you asked me to say your prayers with you. I went full on Bleachers, and I realized, "I Wanna Get Better".

5. Finally, thank you for loving me unconditionally, and letting me love you back.

I was by no means the perfect caregiver to you. Sometimes I yelled, and I made you cry. Sometimes I lashed out. Sometimes I lacked patience. I made a lot of mistakes, but that never made you stop loving me. At the end of every night, you would still be the little spoon, and if you woke up puking, you would still ask for me to take care of you to atone for my sins.

Thank you for everything, Wendy Annakay. You will always be my little girl.