You had made all these cross-wired connections that were illogical in nature but made sense out of context. Like, I could understand what you were feeling but the why was so over the top that I couldn’t fully grasp.
However, in a position where I was so vulnerable, self-esteem so low it was drooling past the depths of hell, where the flashbacks were hitting me full force with their penetrative glares and living from day-to-day was becoming harder. Where I looked up to you so much and treasured and held true every word you said, I, for a minute, broke.
I broke down.
I cried. Wanting to kill myself. Believing the words you spoke – saying that I was selfish, that how dare I serve myself for a second instead of you, how dare I not sacrifice my wellbeing for your own, how dare I?
But, how dare you.
How dare you ask that of your little sister? No, of another human being, of any other person, to give up themselves so completely to serve your every whim and wish.
Especially when you treat them like the shit on your shoe, only to condescendingly pat them on the head for doing exactly what you feel you needed.
I, for months, despite everything you said, dismissed all those evils you committed onto me. I continued to believe that angels shone out of your arse, them being the ones blessed to touch you, that God worshiped you and Satan cowered in fear every time he heard your name. And, most importantly, that I was the one completely in the wrong. That everything that happened was my fault and only my fault when let’s be real here.
Let’s be real.
The more that I took the responsibility for the faults that happened on that day, the more I serve to negate from the fact that you are a flawed human being like the rest of us.
Because guess what? The sun does not shine to greet you every morning, nor does thunder and lightning boom and bend to your will. You are human. You deserve to take some fault of your own onto shoulders too proud to slump, onto the flattened circumference of your mind crushed away by your demons that you indulge yourself in. I’m just sick of it.
I’m sick of how you’re all too ready to announce to the world how you’ve had it harder than any mere mortal who has experienced pain or anguish. That you believe yourself bigger than what you are. More superior because you choose not to understand what others go through but instead enjoy swimming deep in a sea of your own self-pity.
Can the idea that someone else may feel pain without you having to make it a competition exist? Because God knows that when I feel good and happy I don’t go comparing it and stopping myself because someone else may be happier than I.
I don’t make it a competition. I just feel happy. And have enough sense to respect other’s happiness, the same way you should respect other’s pain.
I wish you could just see the truth and grow up for once. Because it’s not grown up to give people the silent treatment, it’s not grown up to expect family to serve you unconditionally – love you unconditionally, yes, but not serve. And finally, it’s not grown up to push everyone in your life away just because they communicate with you they do not agree with the way you treat them.
Grow up before everyone that you still love grows up and away from you.
Your excommunicated sister