I don’t really know what to call this. It’s not really a rant as much as it is a paragraph or so about what’s been bothering me lately.
The stress of packing and moving and living on my own is in there somewhere. As is the fate of my job status. But I just can’t take any more hurt from the fact that my sister hates me. I hate to do this sort of thing because it’s not interesting for you guys to read, but it’s always something that bothers me and I don’t know why I should care so much.
You know, if you don’t people to read what you say about them, you shouldn’t post things like that on the internet. I know that’s exactly what I’m doing but I don’t care at this point, if anyone reads it.
We’re seven years apart so I think a lot of it has to do with that. I’ve been told that when she’s older we’ll probably get along more. She’s an adult now but doesn’t act like it and we still don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. She’s into things I don’t really understand. And I guess that’s okay. There’s certain aspects of it that I disagree with completely… because fucking logic? But since I don’t agree and don’t understand, she is content with portraying me as a monster via the internet. I’m tired of being the monster. It’s exhausting, and quite frankly it’s not fair, after all that I do for her. Just because I disagree with her life choices and the fact that she gets caught in a whirlwind of “what people say on the internet must be true” then I’m a terrible sister?
And that she acts like I don’t know what it’s like to be in her shoes? High school wasn’t that long ago for me so it’s not like I don’t know how that is. I remember what it’s like to disagree with my parents. And I STILL know what it’s like to deal with anxiety and depression.
All I’ve ever wanted to do is give her advice and help her because I know what the world is like. And I know that she’s not going to get by with the way she acts. At this point, I can’t anymore. There’s only so much I can give and I’m emotionally exhausted. I guess I have to just accept the fact that my baby sister hates me and there’s nothing I can do about that. Did writing all this out make me feel any better? No, not really. But at least I can say I tried. I let things fester way too much which causes me to overthink and panic. So maybe, at least, I can stop thinking about it.