Some may think that sisterhood is a good thing -- an unbreakable bond between two siblings that lasts a lifetime. I'm sure during different parts of our lives, we sisters will one day realize this fact. But for one duration of time in particular, life in sisterhood is a living hell.
Being the youngest of three children, I never had the upper hand. My sister is five years older than me, and my brother two. Being the lucky ones my sister and I had the privilege of sharing a room. I could draw you the exact imaginary line that was branded into the rug of our floor. And if I crossed that line… oh boy…the wrath of dearest sister was released.
Now when your nine years old, nothing you own is cool, especially not as cool as the stuff your older siblings own. Big sisters things were ever so inviting
.…
A secret almost mystical aura was beaming off her side of the room. It was calling my name. I was going to explore the unseen oblivion of “the other side.” Big sis wasn't home, so I couldn’t get caught, or so I though. Sitting on the forbidden ground I was flipping through her journals. I heard the footsteps too late to react, the habitual creek our door made came next, and there she was in the doorway. Painted on her face was the WHAT-ARE-YOU-DOING-ON-MY-SIDE-OF-THE-ROOM,-I’M-GOING-TO-KILL-YOU look. I

was

dead

meat.
“WHY ARE YOU ON MY SIDE OF THE ROOM? MOM, CHELSEA IS ON MY SIDE OF THE ROOM! MOM!!!”
Yes, sisterhood. Screaming, fighting, hitting, yelling, sharing, crying and occasionally hugging. Sisterhood is rough but after that one hard phase passes, if it ever does, there really is something special sister’s share. Words can’t describe this magical phenomenon. The closest translation is “a love hate relationship.” Sisters are secret best friends in disguise, and with time their friendship will unfold.