I like to eat avocados while clad solely in my bra and underwear

Congratulations to everyone who plowed through the entirety of my previous post. I had plenty of time to fry in the airport, and then some, so that means after I finished typing, I went around to various other travelers and asked them to hold my bag for me, just for a sec, to see what their reactions would be.

I'm sitting in my sister's now more-empty-than-usual apartment, eating the majority of the contents of a jar of strawberry preserves. I am eating the strawberry jam with the end of a pen. I am doing this because only AFTER I had spied the jar of jam sitting in the fridge, AFTER I had skipped joyfully over to what should have been the eating utensil drawer, and AFTER I opened the drawer did I realize we had already packed up the eating utensils. However, that was far too late in the game to let something silly like having no spoon stand between me and a jar of jam, or stand between me and near-perfect bliss. Hence my not so traditional approach to eating a jar of jam.

It seems like this should be my sister's job, this sitting in a more-empty-than-usual apartment, eating junk food contemplatively while surrounded by the spoils of 4 years of college packed up in 18x18 nondescript brown boxes, but I'm filling in the role temporarily with the unique perspective of a younger sister reflecting on what the hell happened to the girl she used to sport spandex bike shorts with.

Packing up my sister's stuff made me feel in a way that I was packing up the stuff of a stranger. I realized my big sister did quite a bit of growing up while I wasn't around. I still recognized things, like her stuffed animals, but the rest was no longer the stuff of my big sister, but more the stuff of a young lady. Granted, this is all comparative, I know she still has a ton of growing to do, but from my standpoint as a second year in college and with the ever-growing dread that I in fact have undergone absolutely no development since sophomore year of high school, the transformation was nearly stupefying.

This feeling, while occasionally liberating and soothing, deluding myself into believing that someone will always be there to explain to me exactly what that clause means in that tax form, is scary at the same time. Although I have liked to consider myself more or less able to stand on my own two feet in certain things, on other terrain I know I am woefully unstable. I can point someone in the direction of the best discoteca in Madrid, I could, if need be, approach any stranger to talk about why I think the sun came up that day, I can go grocery shopping for an entire week, but I still can't seem to shake the feeling that all this is just an elaborate role I created for myself while I was just trying to seem like someone else.

Where is this going now?

Agi did some major redecoration while my back was turned. She's still the same Agi, but from here on out, and evidently since a while back, probably since she left for college, she's started something that I won't be a part of. That doesn't mean the more familiar part of her is gone, but it does mean that the roles I created for me and her have to change.

Agi does this now? She had this for homework? My sister went to this movie? My sister wears this lacey bit now? She can pull this off? When did this happen? How come? More importantly, how come I can't?

In short, this seems like a fitting sort of entry for my sister's graduation which she will never read. Agi, congratulations. You've got some qualities I wish I could have, but I know you feel like you're deficient in other things. I would be lying if I said you're perfect the way you are. Perfect for me, but not so perfect to face everyone else not helping you pack up your boxes. If you feel like something's missing and others don't, then the only thing that will fix that is if you fix it yourself. And I guess that's where after-college comes in. Good luck with everything.

Sorry I ruined your pen. I can give you another.