There's the eldest and the youngest. And there's also the middle child: the in-between.
The ones who feel forgotten.
The ones who feel unseen.
The ones who feel unheard.
I'm one of them.
The eldest is expected to lead.
The youngest is expected to bring joy.
But what are our expectations?
To be hidden?
To live?
To be a burden?
We're in the middle:
overshadowed by the eldest,
outshined by the youngest.
We're the in-between.
Left to be independent,
left to be alone,
left to fend for ourselves.
Parents say they don't play favourites. They do, just in ways they don't see it.
They talk with the eldest about plans for work.
They talk with the youngest about school.
And when it comes to me, they just ask me how my day went, and silence.
My father talks to the eldest,
my mother with the youngest.
Where am I?
Who will I talk to?
To myself, I guess.
It's not a matter of attention; it's a matter of affection.
We exist to feel loved.
But when it doesn't exist inside the four walls, we find it elsewhere.
Don't judge us for finding love when you can't even provide it.
Nonetheless, it's still our fault.
For not speaking up,
for not being noticeable,
for not showing up.
Yes, we're wrong. Always.
We're the in-betweens.
The ones left to deal with problems alone,
the ones trusted to be the leaders of their lives without guidance,
the ones whose calls are never answered.
They always talk about the responsibility of being the eldest,
or the burden of being the youngest.
Yet, they never talk about the struggle of being in-between.
We're standing on coal pathways,
walking a road of pressure and weight.
Quietly expected to be like the eldest: responsible, trustworthy, reliable.
Quietly prayed to surpass the youngest: be more than them.
But quiet expectations are not so quiet.
They're a silence heard through halls and corridors,
they're a silence only I can hear,
they're an invisible thread wrapped around my throat,
they're a thin tightrope I try to walk:
hoping not to fall to judgements and disappointments.
We're the in-betweens.
Left to be stranded,
to be alone,
in the center of responsibility and laughter.
We're the in-betweens,
and we only want to feel heard,
feel seen,
feel loved by the ones around us.
We're the in-betweens.
The ones who fall too short to be like the eldest,
yet fail to surpass the joy of the youngest.
We're the in-betweens.
Quietly struggling,
silently weeping,
facing the world alone.
