I didn’t choose this crown.
Life handed it to me the moment I cried first.
It wasn’t golden,
Rather, it was molded from responsibility… pressure… silence… and sacrifice.
And yes, I wear it well but at what cost?
You see, being the eldest
Feels like signing a contract I never agreed to.
No one explained the terms,
Instead, things just began to change.
Little by little, I noticed the shift:
How people looked at me with different eyes.
How my mistakes echoed louder than others’.
How my wins weren’t celebrated instead, they were expected.
In the beginning, I was just a child,
Laughing freely, chasing butterflies, dreaming out loud.
Then one day, they called me “mature” while I was still scared.
They said, “Be strong,”
Even though I felt like breaking.
They added, “Set an example,”
Even when I didn’t know where I was going myself.
From that point on, I had to hold in my tears
Because younger eyes were always watching.
I acted like I understood things I didn’t,
So that they wouldn’t see fear in me.
Eventually, pretending became easier than explaining.
I’ve felt guilty for dreaming too big
Especially when there were school fees to pay.
I folded my wings not because I wanted to,
But because others needed to fly first.
Yes, I’ve sacrificed,
Not to appear holy,
But simply because someone had to.
At times, I sit in silence, asking:
Who takes care of the one who takes care of everyone else?
Who asks me, “Are you okay?”
Without already expecting the usual response: “I’m fine.”
Because “I’m fine” became my mask.
In truth, I’m not always okay.
Sometimes I want to scream,
Sometimes I wish someone would hold me instead of looking up to me.
Once in a while, I want to be the one who falls apart,
Instead of always being the one picking up the pieces.
And what hurts most?
It’s not the long nights or the fake smiles.
Rather, it’s the feeling of being forgotten,
Like they only see my role, not the person inside it.
They expect me to show up, stay strong, stay grounded,
But rarely ask how heavy the burden really is.
I understand everyone,
Yet I often feel misunderstood.
It’s lonely.
It’s exhausting.
It’s real.
Still, I keep showing up.
I keep carrying this weight,
Not because I have to,
But because I love them.
There’s a strange kind of purpose in this pain.
Despite everything, I’ve watched my siblings thrive,
And I know my sacrifices weren’t wasted.
They shine now,
And even though no one claps for me,
I know I helped light the fire in them.
Yes, I’ve failed.
God knows I’ve stumbled.
However, every fall has taught me how to rise stronger,
For them, if not always for me.
So if you’re the firstborn like me,
I see you.
I feel you.
I stand beside you.
From now on, let’s give ourselves the grace
We offer so freely to others.
Let’s remember, it’s okay to pause.
It’s okay to cry.
It’s okay not to have all the answers.
After all, we are more than big brothers or big sisters.
We are humans too.
We bleed.
We hope.
We carry the world but even so, we still deserve rest.
Maybe, just maybe,
This crown we wear, though heavy,
Lands on strong heads for a reason.
But strength should never equal silence.
Therefore, speak.
Breathe.
Feel.
Rest.
You are not alone.
They Promised to Meet Again…But Death Came First
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