Nobody is perfect. I’m not a perfect person just like everyone else. I do have some positive and negative sides in my character. I think that it’s easy to become a bad person rather than to be a good one. We always have a choice. We make mistakes. And we became bad at some point in our life.
I was still very young when I first showed the bad side of me. When I was a child, I developed jealousy towards my younger brother. I was supposed to be the youngest in all four girls in the family. But when I was 8 years old, my mom gave birth to my one and only brother. Since I was the youngest daughter for eight long years, I really hated the idea of having another sibling younger than me. It took me long to accept my brother and that he became the apple of the eye of my parents and my older siblings.
In my young mind, I thought that my brother stole the attention that should’ve been mine only. I became selfish and very mean to him. Every time my mom asked me to watch over my baby brother, I wouldn’t pay much attention and rather I shouted at him and let him cry. Because of my jealousy, I treated him bad. I didn’t care about him, all I felt was hatred. I even brought my bad attitude in the school. I became less generous, I didn’t want someone touches my things. I became sensitive. I really changed a lot.
But later on, after my father died, I suddenly realized how unfortunate my brother was because he didn’t even got the chance to spend much time with our father. At that point, I changed how I treated him. I realized that he’s innocent and did nothing wrong. And I wasn’t the one who needed much attention, it was my brother. He needed us more than anyone else. I started to try my best to change and be matured.
As I got older, I regretted everything I’ve done with my brother and felt sorry on what I did. Good thing that he was still young then and didn’t know what’s happening and how I treated him. And of course I never told him. Though I am not that closed with my brother as we grow older, I am trying to at least be a real sister to him and tried to recover my past mistakes in my own little way. I never told anyone in my family about how I became bad to my brother when I was young because I was ashamed. Also I am not very opened with them if it comes to my negative sides and mistakes.
My being imperfect doesn’t define who I really am. I made mistakes but it doesn’t mean that I’m a very bad person. It just happened that sometimes I become bad to realize my mistakes.