My older sister Kathryn is the center of her universe and everyone else's. I can't help but feel ignored sometimes, but she acts as if it's justified; that her life is just so big and legendary that there's no room left for me in my insignificance. She isn't consciously self-absorbed or malicious about it, she just can't bring herself to care about a younger sister with no ludicrously hilarious or emotionally charged stories to tell. So, instead, I have to listen to her wax poetic about her ex-boyfriend, a continuing friend of mine (which, of course, causes no shortage of awkwardness) or her new boyfriend, a nineteen-year-old druggie on probation I haven't yet had the pleasure of meeting, or her numerous witty and glamorous friends who seem to fawn over Kate's every action and utterance.
She reminds me of my younger sister Annie in that regard: the big language, the attitude that she's the star of her own play and everyone else is just trying to upstage her. However, my younger sister is six, and Kathryn is eighteen. Maybe it's middle-child syndrome or maybe it's just my own numerous neuroses coming to surface, but I sometimes wish that Kate could mature at least to the point of listening to anything I say.