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"What are you-"
"Shh. I'm listening to the music of your heart."
"...And?"
"It says you're GAY!"
"..."
"..."
"...Get out of my room."
Imagine an older child—not even a child, someone in their 20s—and they have a younger sibling that they resent for committing no sin but one: being born.
That's their sin, their younger sibling's sin. It isn't a sin, to be born, but it is a sin for the older sibling. Because that child has the love of a mother—a different mother from the older sibling's mom.
Because the older sibling's mom was a tyrant, a monster under the guise of a beautiful woman. Her shadow had horns and a tail, a flame to burn the soul of the older sibling. They did everything for their mother: took care of her as a child as if they were the adult, they killed themselves trying to be the best of the best, straight A's and top marks. But it wasn't enough. They did everything, they even sold their body (in every what way you like) just to get to a point that they think their mother would finally acknowledge and be proud of.
It never came.
And years later, the older sibling meets a child with their mother's eye shape and nose and lips and cheeks and hair (maybe not in the way it was biologically structured, but in the way that was taken care of by their mother, the same techniques and mannerism). But in their eyes were kindness and love and care and perhaps every positive thing to exist. The eyes of the older sibling wasn't like that. It was tired, forlorn, miserable, empty.
This was a child from a different mother. A different mother who had the same face as their mother did, but with every positive thing poured on her. Their mother was abusive and neglectful, in all the ways one could be. The younger sibling's mother was a radiant 36 year old. That wasn't their mother. Even if she had her face.
Dialogue prompts:
"I want to hold on to the resentment. To resent her 'til my last dying breath."
"I guess she still has me wrapped around her finger."
"It's not fair, no. That I have to suffer the crossfire between the mom in your past and my mom now. But the world isn't fair, isn't it? I want my older sibling just as much as you wanted your mother."
"I have the mother you wished for, but I still long for the love of my older sibling like they wanted the love of my mother."
"I think it was brave of her; it was brave of her to let my younger sibling meet me, knowing that I was the sin of her past, the reminder of her mistakes, and the proof of her monstrosity. She let her youngest child see that, because they wanted to meet their older sibling, and she loved her youngest. She bore herself, risked losing what she loved, because she loved them."
"I wish you were never born. I wish you would kill yourself. But that wouldn't do anything. That'll just make me regret my words and make your mother grieve. So there's nothing we can do, but live and move forward, even if we can never cross paths again."
"Maybe, in the future, we can meet again and we'll be happy. But maybe, it's better if the two of you don't exist for me, and I don't exist for you."
"I hate you as much as an older sibling should love their younger one. I don't know how to stop hating you. I don't think I ever will."
"No, we don't. We don't have the same mom. Mine was a nightmare, yours was a dream."
"Even now, I don't think I could imagine a version wherein the circumstances were the same...and I'd have loved you as a mother should have."
"She's a great mother. Just not to me."