There is a recurring theme that I struggle with in my day-to-day life. Something expected of me by every living human being. I have neglected to tell the truth. This simple fact has made me hate to meet new people. The easiness of the lies slipping off of my tongue are scary, as though I were simply recounting a memory. Just to say, I don’t lie to make myself seem better in any shape or form. I lie to make myself seem as normal as possible. After all, the more I lie, the more I start to believe.

I have a sister. She is 21 years of age and she is the basis of my lies. You are probably wondering why, well, it’s simple. I have never been able to escape her. My 21-year-old sister is mentally handicapped. There was a point in time, when she was very young, that no one thought about the way she acted. After all, kids do the strangest things. It wasn’t until she remained in the same childish behavior while her body grew that we—my family—started to understand. Soon, my older sister dominated the scene. She needed attention, doctors’ appointments, tutoring, all of my parent’s time and energy soon devoted completely to her. I remained unnoticed.

By the end of a normal day, any attention towards me was negative. I can’t blame anyone for that, though. My parents both had jobs, and the amount of resources needed to keep my sister on track was physically and mentally draining. Having another child on the scene was just too much to handle. So, I did what any elementary-aged child would do. I grew up. I made my own lunches, made sure I went to bed on time, woke up on time, made sure my homework was somewhat done, made sure I caught the bus. All so my parents could remain dedicated to my sister.

While in school, I was labeled under the same category as my sister “unpopular”. I had a couple friends growing up, but they were also my sister’s friends. On bus rides, I listened to my sister get bullied, but she never understood what was happening. The other kids would chant “You can’t hide what’s inside” over and over, and she would laugh as if it were a joke. If they went too far, I would stand and defend her. But a child three years younger isn’t very daunting to older kids, so I would get ignored.

I learned not to trust anyone. Growing up, I made a shield around me. If I stayed quiet and in the background, no one would bother me. If someone said something to me, then I wouldn’t take it seriously. I never trusted anyone completely. If that happened, it would just be more heartbreaking when they do something to hurt me or my family. As my sister and I grew, it became apparent that I was the odd man out. She would threaten me, telling me I should go die somewhere, or that I was adopted, or worthless. She got her friends to bully me. I was called up and told I would be shoved into a locker in school, and to watch my back.

In high school, I started running away. I was angry, not performing well in school, not living up to what my parents saw in me. I tried rebelling like a normal teenager but soon found out that was pointless. After having acted like a mature adult, reverting into a teenager seemed like a childish game to my parents. I used to leave my house for hours. Shutting the door to my room so my parents would think I was still there. My record is eight hours. I left and ran, coming back when it started to rain. I tried to find solace in my extended family. I tried to reach out to them, tried to find something to make me want to stay. Instead, I found that they prioritized themselves and my sister. I was told to look after them, told that I shouldn’t be angry, that I had to be good for them. After all, I was the normal sibling. There was nothing wrong with me. My family only cared about keeping my sister under wraps. If someone acts a way they don’t like, they fix it, or they disown them. All in the effort to appear as perfect as possible.

In college, I realized I was free. That’s when the lies started to really flow. I didn’t tell anyone that I had a sister. For a while, I felt free. I could live a life separately from all the problems that had plagued my life. Reality doesn’t work that way, unfortunately. Problems from my home found me. I tried to distance myself from them, then lied more, then tried to ignore. I made a ticking time bomb of myself. I felt awful that I was lying to people that cared for me. I started telling the truth. First to my closest friends, those who I met and could, for the first time, start to trust.

I am not normal. Not even a tiny bit. The way I grew up has shaped me to be tolerant, to be kind, to look at other people and know that they must have it hard as well. I don’t want to lie anymore. I want to explain to people why I am the way I am, and not be bullied for it. Today, I get a little bit closer to that.