I Wish I Was My Own Big Sister
Being a person is complicated enough. Imagine being a sibling. Now imagine being a big sister.
Eldest daughters. Let’s all take a collective deep breath. And give each other a tight hug.
When I look at my little sister, I wonder if she thinks I’m terrible. Or if she thinks that I’m actually decent. I guess it would depend on the day.
Either way, I can’t help but look at my little sister and think, Wow, I wish I had me, the way you have me.
I wish I was my own big sister.
Because she would tell me that I don’t have to be rock solid or an ice wall. She would tell me that I can cry, and that I should. She would tell me that it’s okay to ask for a hug and it’s okay to ask for help. She wouldn’t laugh at me if I confided in her with a runny nose and messy tears. She would hold me, stroke my hair, and tell me that things can and will get better.
I wish I was my own big sister.
Because when I was twelve, and constantly felt like I wanted to kill myself because of how much I was bullied and how ugly I felt, she would’ve told me that braces could fix my gap. That figuring out the right hair routine would make me love my curls. She would have told me that bushy eyebrows could easily be plucked, and hairy legs could easily be shaved.
I wish I was my own big sister.
Because she would have told me that all the kids were mean because they were jealous that I was better at speaking and writing in English. That I could sing and dance, and even though they were more athletic, popular and attractive than me, I had talents of my own. And she would have probably gone to my school, tried to find those kids, and threatened to whoop their asses, even if it meant she would have gotten in trouble with the police.
I wish I was my own big sister.
Because when I dated that toxic ex who was clearly struggling with his identity, she would’ve told me that no amount of love could fix a broken man. She would have told me to just leave him exactly where I found him. That I was not less for having tried. She would’ve been proud that I’d been able to love him when he didn’t deserve it. Proud that I was able to see all the pretty parts of such an ugly person.
I wish I was my own big sister.
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Because when I wrote my first novel, she would’ve helped me do research on what to actually do with it. She would have read my manuscript, given me feedback, and encouraged me to fully pursue writing.
I wish I was my own big sister.
Because she would have taught me about credit cards, loans, savings, and investing. She would’ve taught me how to budget and avoid $18,000 in consumer debt.
I wish I was my own big sister.
Because when I got my first job, that clearly made my depression sink to the pits of hell, she would’ve raised a red flag. She would have told me that I gained weight, that I clearly wasn’t grooming myself, that I’d lost my spark, and I needed to leave that situation. She would’ve helped me devise a plan. At the very least, she would’ve nepotized me and gotten me a new job.
I wish I was my own big sister.
Because when I took myself to South Korea to study for a year, she would’ve visited me. She would’ve taken screenshots of my Instagram stories and shared it on her own saying, My little sister is cooler than yours! We would’ve gone to Okinawa, Japan, together and sent Grandpa photos to make him reminisce about his own time there. And she would’ve bought me so many things just to spoil me since she missed me so much.
I wish I was my own big sister.
Because when I was riding on a motorbike through the mountains of northern Vietnam, she would’ve been on the bike behind mine, making sure I didn’t fall off.
I wish I was my own big sister.
Because now that I actually have a solid career, a nice car, a nice apartment, and could consider myself pretty good-looking, she would remind me to enjoy it. She would remind me to be proud of myself instead of my own worst critic.
But I’m not my own big sister.
I dealt with the bullies on my own. Found solace on Wattpad. Published the novel on Kindle, then got scared and took it down. I dealt with the heartbreak by myself. I got into credit card debt and then out of it. I quit the job at my breaking point. I Facetimed with my family from South Korea. I rode through the mountains in Vietnam alone, at the back of the tour group.
I guess, in a way, I am my own big sister. She just happens to be literally inside me, not someone I can call.
Originally published at https://agcampiz.substack.com on October 16, 2026.
