April 9, 2012 I love you, but I don’t really like you
We had an easy childhood, my sister and I. Between throwing insults at each other (insults like :you cow, you sheep, you sh*t, you pig), and our parents’ occasional fights, we had no bigger problems. We were protected by a glass window, we were sitting on a shelf, dolls in a world where there were no toy weapons which could break that window. In adolescence the problems started to get bigger, but not abnormally bigger, just usual for some adolescent girls. We couldn’t be protected anymore and we were forced to grow up, to become stronger. That’s why I believe the adolescents shouldn’t be stopped from trying “love” or from going out, from going to parties, etc. There should be a limit, though.
I am different from my sister, and I say it in this order because she’s older than me. While when we were little the 5 years difference was huge, now it cannot be seen anymore.
My family still doesn’t have important problems: there’s the money problem, we get on though, there’s my mom not having a job and the fact that 4 people have to survive on my father’s salary.
My sister is very sad lately. I have no idea why, because I’m doing my best not to be sad, and it’s really hard sometimes.
Like on my birthday when we were 7 people sitting at a table in a pub, of which only 3 people talked, the others (including me) were smoking or drinking their boredom out. What was the subject? Their apartment, bought already but in a rough shape, needing conditioning.
I didn’t tell her HOW much it bothered me, I only told her it bothered me. But she doesn’t know I started crying after she left and finished right before falling asleep.
She knows my blog, and it’s the first time I regret me telling her about it.
Sis, I know you are sad, but you are so very selfish. Somehow you have the impression that your problems are more important than anyone else’s. Somehow you forget about mom, dad, even your fiancé.
You always have something to complain about. You are never happy. Damn it, I’m never truly happy, but I don’t complain or cry about it, every single time. And maybe we aren’t the same, and that’s a simple explanation for your behaving different than me, but not a reason, though.
Sisterhood can’t be broken. I would hate myself a lot if I hurt you. And maybe when reading this you’ll throw your no.1 insult which marked me in our childhood “who do you believe you are, Mother Theresa?” (implying I believe myself to be a saint). I’m not without stains. I know my faults. I try to change them into something less bad.
I’m writing this with some hope that it would wake you up. Like an e-mail I wrote once, but never sent to our mother, when she was in a bad place. Everybody is trying to be by your side. The problem is you either yell or cry when we criticize you.
Would you like your company, if you were a friend of yours? Or your sister?
You changed a lot, mostly when you started working at EB. You used to be calm and sweet.
While washing my hair in the shower, I realized this. I love you, but I don’t like you anymore.