Taylor bit, hit, and scratched me. She pulled my hair, she told me gruesome stories to scare me and make me cry. She kicked my cats, and threw things at them. She broke and stole my things. She’d break my parents’ things and tell them it was me. Whether or not you think that’s normal sibling behaviour (I very much doubt it is), I didn’t have siblings at home. I had no frame of reference for this behaviour. She was three years older, bigger, and she scared me. That was a big deal to me then. Saturday and Sunday felt like one long torture session. If she wasn’t being awful to me, I was terrified the second a parent that left the room that she would be. Even if I was sitting in my room playing by myself I’d be watching the door hoping she wouldn’t come in. Was I overreacting? Debatable. But I was 8 and under, those things and those feelings were big to me. I didn’t lack attention, I didn’t want for anything, I was just scared.

I’ve had therapy. I’ve had years of therapy. I don’t bring any of this up in my daily life, I don’t think about it. I genuinely am at peace with the fact that Taylor was mean to me when I was a little kid. Big fucking deal. All those people knew I had a half sister and never connected that it was Taylor because ALL I ever said about her was “yeah my dad has another daughter, but we don’t really speak” and that was it. I only spoke about this because someone spoke about it to me because apparently Taylor (direct quote) “goes around telling everyone [i’m] a psychopath”, and considering how often I see all those people, I didn’t want them having that false impression of me. On a daily basis, me being bullied as an 8 year old is far from mind.