The Letter I Never Sent

I've always been the responsible one in my family, the oldest sibling who steps up when mom or dad can't. My sister Lily is four years younger, and she's never really appreciated how much I do for her. We used to be close, but now we're like strangers sharing a roof. Yesterday was our annual family dinner at grandma’s place. It felt so forced and fake that year. Everyone had their best behavior plastered on their faces except my dad who kept drinking too fast. My mom tried hard to keep things light as usual, but the tension in the room was palpable. After dinner, while everyone chatted, I noticed Lily sitting alone at a corner table with her phone glued to her hand. It's not like it’s anything new, she never engages during family gatherings unless someone forces her into a conversation or game of charades. She has always been good at putting on a face when it suits her needs. I decided then and there that I needed to write down everything I was feeling, all the frustration, sadness, and maybe even some forgiveness. As I sat alone in my room later that night, I poured out my thoughts onto paper. It was cathartic, releasing all those unspoken words that had built up over time. I wrote about every instance where she turned to me for help with homework or needed a ride somewhere but didn't say thanks after. About how every milestone of her life seemed to overshadow mine in our parents' eyes, getting straight As, winning competitions, being the favorite niece at grandma’s house. The letter was long and detailed, tracing back years of perceived neglect and resentment. By the time I finished, my heart felt lighter yet heavy with the weight of truth laid bare on paper. But then I looked again at that folded sheet of paper and hesitated. My mom had been pushing for us to work things out recently, she thinks we’re drifting apart too much now that Lily is in college. Should I send it? Would it make anything better or worse? So, instead of sending the letter, I put it away in a drawer where it will probably remain forever unread. It's not because I don't want to express my feelings; rather, I fear more hurt and division than I can handle right now. Maybe someday when things feel less raw, or if Lily ever reaches out first with an olive branch, then maybe I'll bring up those words from the past, the ones that could have opened a conversation long overdue. For now though, it feels best to keep them locked away until we’re both ready.