Under the Influence

Recently during my routine procrastination sessions, I logged onto MySpace thinking I was going to just update my profile song to something representative of how I was feeling, make inappropriate comments on some pages, and delete comments from 40-year-old men who seem to think that the site is an equal-opportunity dating service.

As the homepage loaded, everything seemed to be normal -- some new comments, messages, and a friend request. Eager to see which one of my friends gave in to yet another evil tool of procrastination via a networking site, I clicked on the friend request button. What I saw sent a chill down my spine. I sat staring at the screen for what seemed like an eternity in disbelief at the image that stared back at me. There she sat, mouth puckered into what could be interpreted into a kiss one moment or a "b*tch please" expression the next.

Although I was very familiar with her, in that moment, I felt as if I had never met her before. Although I've known her for about the past 14 years, the person in the picture was someone else, someone new. "This could not be my baby sister," I thought. "O hell no!"

For such a long time, I went along as if our worlds were different. I always felt so much older than her despite the fact that she towers over me in ideal model height and is often confused for my older sister.

I somehow forgot that she was growing up while I was away at school. On my frequent trips back home, I never looked at her as more than my baby sister. She had always been the 3-year-old girl with whom I played schoolhouse with; repeating after me as I sounded out words and wrote letters down on the chalkboard my dad "borrowed" from a highschool he was doing construction work on. She had had always been the 6-year-old who gave me a hard time whenever I was on the phone with my friends. She had always been the little girl that I felt guilty for leaving every time I left home after the holidays to come back to school.

Now, she's her own person with her own MySpace page. I suddenly realized how important it was that I pass down the important lessons that I've learned. I felt that I had to hurry up and tell her all these things before she grew up even more.

I needed her to know that although she may have tons of friends, not everyone had her best interest in mind. I needed her to know that it's ok not to be in step with everyone else, because those that start out too quickly on the track usually fall behind during the longest and most important part of the race. I needed her to know that she has to know that she's beautiful way before some boy makes her think that him telling her that she's gorgeous means something. I needed her to know that change may hurt, but nothing that's worth anything comes easy. I needed her to know that no one knows everything and anyone who pretends that they do is lying. I needed her to know that being kind is not a sign of weakness, but a sign of strength; the strength to give of oneself despite the gains or losses. I needed her to know that she is allowed to feel whatever emotion comes to her and that no one has the right to tell her otherwise. I needed her to know that she was loved.

I never thought MySpace could be so deep.