I always wanted an older sister growing up. I so badly wanted someone who had already experienced everything I was going through — someone of a similar age to talk to, to look up to and to have my back.

But for better or for worse, I am the eldest of three kids, which has come with its own challenges. I often wish I wasn’t, because sometimes the responsibility makes me want to lash out.

Being the eldest, especially as a decade older than my youngest brother, means my siblings have gotten away with being naive longer than I ever did.

Of course they can get away with being babied for longer, because I’ve already learned everything. I drive my brother to soccer practices, help read over my sister’s essays, aid my grandmother in the kitchen — when I'm at home, I’m interrupted every 10–15 minutes because someone needs something from me.

For the most part, I don’t mind it. I don’t mean to sound spoiled, because I love my family, and this is the least I can do.

But not only do I have to guide everyone else through their lives, I also have to live my own with other people’s interests in mind — it's up to me to accomplish things for them to see. If my grandparents want to see one of their grandchildren get married or have a kid, then I have to do that. Do I want to do those things? I don’t know, but I also don’t know if my grandparents will be around when my siblings are old enough and ready to get married.

When trying to balance work, school, friends, relationships and family, I’m being yanked in every direction other than the one I want to be in.

I think the worst part is that my siblings don’t consider the time I spend helping them as time spent with me. When I’m coming home from 12-hour days at school, the only thing I manage to do is lay in my bed and try not to think of all the work I still need to do. My brother doesn’t think the hours I spend taking him to soccer or swimming or taekwondo or school performances or sports days or making sure he’s fed and showered really count — he just wants to play games with me. I know it’s not the same to him, but I’m so exhausted sometimes I can barely get up in the morning.

When I see my friends living their lives completely by their own schedule, I feel a horrific sense of envy — I also don’t want to be called a billion times when I’m out past 9 p.m. or have to check my entire family’s calendar before making plans.

Every day it feels like I’m failing everyone a bit more. Every day it feels like there’s more I can’t tackle. And every day I get a little closer to giving up.

I’m watching everyone battling things I can’t fix for them. They’re getting older and falling ill and there’s absolutely nothing I can do to stop it.

I just don't understand. If I was raised to hold everything together, then why is it crumbling in my hands?

But it’s not all bad. I get to be the one to show my sister all the music she should be listening to, and I taught my brother my hot chocolate recipe. I was the only person my grandfather taught how to ride a bike and my grandmother only ever trusts my opinion in the kitchen.

I have been given so much special treatment for being the first, so how could I ever truly be mad? I just hope I can be the eldest sister I always wanted.