happy birthday, starlord
On this day, seventeen years ago, my little sister was born.
I don’t remember how it was when they arrived; I was four years old. The earliest memories I have of them were when we’d share our home computer and take turns playing games. The deal was that I got to use it while they took their mandatory afternoon nap. Easy rock played on the radio, and my eyes were glued to the screen, hand to the mouse as I entertained myself by picking 2D dresses for 2D characters. When my sister wakes up, it’s time for me to give up the seat to them. But sometimes I get jealous of the games they get to play, those that I missed earlier, so I’d trick them into letting me try it after. Coloring Winnie the Pooh yellow, blue tail on a mermaid drawing, pink Bomb-It character. I think my sister knew I was tricking them, but they let me play still.
I had a photo with them when they were just a few days old. They were smiling in the picture — pink, swollen, and adorable. Their dimples were peaking proudly, saying, “I have two! You only have one on your chin.”
They were my number one responsibility growing up. When our parents eventually left to work abroad, I was constantly reminded to take care of them. And I admit, I sulked over the fact that a living human child was left for me to care for at the young age of twelve. But after everything, I wouldn’t change a thing that happened. Being their older sister, their second mother, taught me so much about patience, empathy, and embracing differences. Despite only registering the lessons now, I’m a hundred times thankful I was given them. And while I admittedly wasn’t, they were the best sibling one could ask for.
To 🛹, nicknamed Starlord from years ago (when they falsely called Darth Vader Starlord), now ironically obsessed with the Guardians of the Galaxy, to the person who gives me their chicken skin all the time, to my palamunin, my player 2, to the person who lets me borrow their things despite me accidentally discoloring their brown trousers, the buttercup to my blossom, to my rival for bangus belly, the brave and bright art kid, I’m proud of you — happiest birthday.
This piece was originally posted on Substack on May 6, 2024 and migrated to BearBlog on March 19, 2026.