21 Letters – #3 For Cheyanne
We were always two,
yet somehow always one.
Two names,
but always called together -
we couldn’t escape the pull of each other.
Do you remember the way they always thought
we were twins?
Not even within a year of each other,
but they couldn’t see the difference
between us,
even when we were standing in separate rooms.
And you, always a step ahead,
the world thought you were the older one,
and maybe you thought so, too,
but I never felt that way.
I was the one you picked on,
tugging at my hair,
picking at my patience
like you were trying to find the limit.
You always knew just how to push,
and I always took the bait.
But, under all of that,
there was something else.
Something that didn’t show on the surface,
something that would sneak through when no one was looking,
when the world was too loud
and we were the only ones who understood the silence
between our fights.
You, the younger sister,
would step in when the others tried to hurt me.
Your eyes would change,
your voice sharp and sure,
even though you were supposed to be the one
who needed protecting.
Somehow, you always knew how to shield me,
even when you couldn’t shield yourself.
And it wasn’t always easy,
was it?
Trying to find your own space
when the world always wanted to define us
as one thing,
as a pair.
Trying to grow
when we were so often tethered
by the past,
by the image of what we were supposed to be.
We fought for individuality,
but the world saw us the same,
like two halves of a whole
that never really felt whole.
You tried to outrun me,
to be your own person,
to be not me,
but there we were,
always drawn back together,
like magnets of blood and history.
And I’ll be honest -
there were times I resented you for it.
The way you took the spotlight,
the way you never seemed to care
that I needed to shine too.
But even in those moments,
there was something about you
that I couldn’t quite hate,
even when I wanted to.
Because somewhere deep down,
you were still my closest friend
despite being my fiercest rival.
Then came the turning point,
the slow shift,
the years when we stopped being
enemies,
and became something more -
the kind of sisters
who didn’t just fight over the same space,
but learned how to hold it together.
We started leaning on each other,
asking for advice on things we never dared
to talk about before.
You became the first person I turned to
for everything,
from the smallest worries
to the biggest secrets.
And somehow,
the things that once made us competitors
were now the things that made us
stronger,
closer.
You, with your humor
and your blunt honesty,
and me, with my quiet heart
and my overthinking mind,
became the perfect balance -
two parts of a whole
that was never really about being one.
It was about becoming ourselves,
side by side,
learning to be better
with each other,
instead of apart.
Now, I wouldn’t trade our childhood for anything,
the battles,
the laughter,
the small moments of silence we shared
when we didn’t need words.
Because here we are,
the closest of friends,
the keepers of each other’s secrets,
the ones who know the weight of each other’s hearts.
You, my sister,
are still the first one I want call,
still the first one I want to turn to.
I’m not sure when it happened -
the shift from competing to completing -
but we became sisters in the truest sense:
not just by blood,
but by the trust we built
and the love we watered.