The bravest person I know is my little sister. Now, when most people hear the word “brave” they think of soldiers, firefighters and (obviously) superman. But, although these people all have extreme courage, this little girl has showed more bravery than I have in all my thirteen years put together. She isn't afraid of speaking her mind, which is the thing which scares me the most. This may be attributed to her nature or purely out of innocence. However, as I look back on myself at her age (almost three) I see a very different girl. A first born who didn't have to fight for her parents attention and was always referred to as the “angel child”. Of course, I had the occasional tantrums: it's inevitable. But so few that my parents can recall each one and count them on their hands. On the contrary, my third born sister creates everything into an argument. The world is her battlefield. Now, this may seem like a bad thing, but it's what is holding me to the ground and what will let her fly.
   

I lost my feelings in a whirlwind of attempts to please others. I never developed myself, just became merely a shadow of the people around me. My feelings were pushed so far back in my mind that they eventually became lost and invisible. I didn't know it though. It's like when you're little and get ice cream all over your face. But, you still walk around all day with it smeared there like a sugary mask because you're completely oblivious. It's not until you reach a mirror that you can truly see your reflection. That's what my sister was: a mirror. I could finally see myself clearly and found that what I saw was not what I wanted. My sister -although often annoying - was true and real, something I couldn't say about myself. So slowly, ever so slowly my feelings started to emerge. It was up to me to decide what to do with them.
    

Speaking: that's easy. But just speaking; that's not enough. You have to speak, not just from your mouth, but from your heart. Not just for others ears, but for your own. I didn't realize that, I always spoke for others to hear. So that they would smile. Then I would smile because I'd been taught that was all that mattered. In preschool they tell you to be kind to others, think of others, treat others with respect. But they forget about you. My sister hasn't been exposed to this very much in her few months at daycare. However, even my kindergartener brother has already expressed apprehension regarding the thoughts of his peers. I thought that speaking was the way to coax my feelings out of their cocoon of fear but it was harder than I thought. My sister is only two, so she can yell and scream and we all blame it on her age: that she's too little to understand. Now, I'm a different story. I could just start yelling and screaming what I wanted but where would that get me? A nice visit to a therapist, that's where. So how? That was the next question. How could I express my feelings without coming off as an incompetent two year old?
              

The next step is doing. Finally finding what I want and shaping my life around it as I see my sister doing everyday. It takes courage and confidence to be someone real. I find that this quality is becoming rarer in the world as selfless ideas are imposed on young minds. Of course, I know it is very important to care about others but, I've learned that it is much more important to care about yourself. I hope that my sister will continue to express this valuable skill of defiance. And, when she reads this article years later she will still have that same fire that I see in her everyday. But most importantly, I hope to ignite that fire in myself. To live in this world not for the benefit of others but to benefit myself. Just like any two year old would.