It's not getting the last bit if chocolate, it's not always getting the best bit of everything. Frankly I don't give two shits about who gets more and who gets less. I stopped asking for more since I realized you can never give me everything. So yeah, I don't care.
It's you, expecting me to obey to his nonsensical commands, like my existence is solely to grant his wishes, like I don't have rights of my own. All he has to do is to scream his unsatisfactions and whatever crap he wants from the world into the air and there you go, doing whatever crap you can, throwing instructions around to satisfy him. And ninety-nine out of a hundred of his requests are barely constructive. He just wants it all. He just wants to have a say in everything, although it might bring him zero benefits, and you comply. You effing comply to his nonsense.
And me, I'll be that jealous, lousy and useless sister who never loves her brother enough to give up everything just so he can shut up and be happy about life, so that he can feel important. To you, it's our fault that he's a commanding little shit because we didn't give him enough attention and affection when he was growing up. So no matter how inappropriate or irrational he is, he's never wrong, and as a elder sister, I'm a failure if I refuse to be swayed around by him like a puppet, I'm the insensible one if I decides to go against project make-your-little-brother-happy. I have no rights to object.
What hurts the most isn't you always serving him on your knees. What hurts the most is you telling me off when I'm not doing the same. I really don't care that he'll grow into a useless prick who'll probably get bullied when he goes to secondary school, because by then I won't be staying home to witness it all, and I don't care. I gave up caring long ago, because there is absolutely no point in giving too many craps about him actually turning into a normal, functional individual because that's obviously not your main concern.
Right now, I just want to get out of here so I don't have to deal with your unreasonable expectations, so I don't have to watch him be a brat around the house like I owe him my life, and I clearly don't want to be there when he gets beaten up one day for being himself around another bigger kid who has twice his shitty personality.
Honestly, I was never once sorry for slapping him or raising my voice at you when I snap, or being a bitch when he asks me for something. Yes I'm that unforgiving. Maybe that's your fault too.
But I forgot. Every time I'm in tears, I'll only get to blame myself, although I saw you watch him push me until I fall and then turn away after that. And when he gets hurt, I'll be the one getting it from you for not making sure that his path was clear, safe and padded with cushions.
I have no clue on where you got your grand logic, but it is extremely screwed up. So screwed up that I see no salvation in talking to you about how I really feel. You say that I don't speak to you enough, but really. What for?
No comments:
Post a Comment