Bitterness

There are days when I can't believe my sister is related to me, and that I feel sick to my stomach that some invisible bond of genetics means she is a part of my life. Because if this were anyone else, I would walk away and not look back. I have walked away from people in my life for less and for worse. But all these years, all this madness and pain and suffering that have come from my sister's choices... I don't know what to say anymore. Except perhaps "Fuck you."

She's moving her stuff back into the house, and my mom hasn't stopped her. Hasn't made a move really, and it's frustrating to me. I know my mother loves her youngest daughter and only wants the best for her, wants to help her turn her life around. But Kelly refuses that. She only wants a safe house, so far as I can tell. After the perfectly hideous thing she told my mother last night, I see no reason to let her stay. I argued heatedly for telling her to find somewhere else to go, because she's hitting that desperate insane point and I don't trust her. She's so wrapped up in that damned Dimwit, she gets herself in more and more trouble.

I hate that she doesn't think, I hate that she's so selfish, I hate that she doesn't care what she is doing to the family, I hate that she hates herself so much she is driven to this, I hate that she won't let anyone help her without turning on them in the end, I hate the way she talks, I hate the situation she has put us all in, I hate all of it. I hate that my mother won't be firm when she tells her she can't come home unless she has left Dimwit. I hate that my mother keeps letting her back in over and over.

I feel a great deal of pity for my mother. There seems to be nothing I can do to help, and she won't listen to me. She won't even talk to anyone about this, and I wish I knew who to find to help her.

My sister brought my sweater back. I need to wash it again, because it smells hideous.

I'm so angry and miserable and frustrated by all of this. My mother tells me not to worry. But my sister is causing her all kinds of grief, and I have to lock my bedroom door because I'm worried she will steal my things and how the hell am I not supposed to worry? Damn it all. I want to cry. I want to hit something.

But I must suck it up, for the next twelve hours at least. I've got work to do, and I start doing it for real tonight. Must be calm and collected so I can make sure people get their paperwork processed. Must do my taxes. Must worry instead about the end of the world, and the war that is coming, and the ever changing color alerts and the stupidity of people who think that duct tape and plastic sheeting will keep them safe.

"Hold your breath and count to ten
Fall apart then start again
Hold your breath and count to ten
Start again
Start again
Start again."
-English Summer Rain