Shadow of my own making

I was born the kind of girl people whispered about, though never to my face. Jealousy was in my blood, like a pulse I could never control. My sister, Nneka, had everything I wanted: beauty that turned heads, intelligence that earned praise, and a life that seemed effortless. And me? I was always in her shadow, no matter how hard I tried.

The envy started small resentful glances, bitter thoughts but it grew like a wildfire. Every compliment she received, every opportunity she got, I felt it piercing me like a knife. I told myself it was unfair, that life had played favorites. I told myself I deserved it more. But deep inside, I knew my feelings were dangerous, a storm I could no longer contain.

It all came to a head one night. I had argued with her earlier about something trivial, but in my mind, it was everything. The rage consumed me. By the time I realized what I was doing, it was too late. I had ended her life. The look in her eyes as she fell haunted me for seconds that felt like hours. And in that frozen moment, I understood the depth of my own darkness.

When the police came, I lied. I cried. I claimed it was a mistake, an accident. I told them I didn’t mean to hurt her, that it had been a struggle, and she had fallen. The courtroom was cold, the spectators eager for drama, and my parents’ faces were masks of disbelief and sorrow. I knew they didn’t trust me, and I didn’t care. I had convinced myself that as long as I survived, I could rebuild my life.

And for a while, I did. I moved to another city, changed my name, and tried to bury the past. I walked into clubs, smiled at strangers, laughed at jokes, and danced like nothing had ever happened. But guilt is a shadow that follows, invisible but suffocating. Every mirror reflected not just my face, but Nneka’s. Every night I lay awake, the memory of her screams and the silence afterward echoing in my head.

A year passed, and I thought I had fooled fate. I thought I had escaped the life I had destroyed. But life has a cruel sense of irony. That night at a popular club, I didn’t notice the drink being slipped into my hand. I laughed with friends, danced to the music, and for the first time in a long while, felt free. Then the world tipped, the lights blurred, and I knew something was wrong. My body betrayed me before my mind could catch up.

I was poisoned.

The pain was sharp, sudden, and merciless. I gasped for air, my chest tightening, my vision fading. And in those final moments, I understood the cruel balance of life and death. I had taken what I wanted, destroyed what I envied, and in the end, it had all turned back on me. I was alone, powerless, and terrified but also, somehow, relieved. Relief, because the shadow that had haunted me, the guilt I could never shake, would finally be gone.

I have lived a life filled with lies, envy, and regret. I have loved nothing more than myself and hated everyone around me, and it destroyed me. I wanted happiness, wealth, attention, but all I got was a mirror showing my sins and a death I could not escape.

If anyone reads this, let it be a warning: jealousy is a fire you cannot control once it burns, and lies are chains that bind your soul. I am the proof of both. And now, as I feel the darkness close in, I can only whisper to the empty world I leave behind: everything I wanted was taken from me… by me.