I don’t mind being the first born. You hear all these stories of people of how they hate being the first born, how they don’t get the attention they want or they have too much responsibility.  I don’t mind that at all. I’m quite happy to be ignored and let my parents be happy with the achievements of my younger sister, Amy. Ironically, her name means ‘Beloved’ which she is and for that, I’m happy. Amy is a year younger than me. I’m at my last year of college and she’s a newbie. I’m always looking out for her even though she doesn’t need any looking after. She’s perfect in every way; Academically. She’s top of the class and her looks, well let’s just say Amy is the kind of girl all guys would love to go out with. Her blond curls fall delicately on her chest, her brown eyes, big and innocent, her skin, ivory with not a spot or acne in sight. Her lips, red as roses. She was perfect, the favourite, the one everyone wanted. Who was I kidding, of course I did mind. I hated that my parents picked on me, I hated that they paid attention to Amy but still, I love her. And me? I was the complete opposite.

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