Friday, July 11, 2008

Just Living

My sister is spoiled. Rotten to the core. It's not as hard as you might think to say. My sister is spoiled. It's easy, you see? She's shown me nothing to deter my decision. She is spoiled. She is the youngest. I am the middle child.

My older sister is the perfect daughter. Perfect until it's sickening. She's organized to pencils and pens, polite to everyone, and moderate to wearing just plain old clothes out in public.

I am the middle child. I've said that before huh? There's nothing special about me. Nothing extraordinary. Nothing to write home to mom about. I played sports, or at least, I tried. I was just another guy passing through schools. I wasn't at the top, but I wasn't at the bottom either. I don't dress fancy. I don't dress raggy. I just...dress...casually.

My little brat of a sister is spoiled for sure. She'll make a mess and leave it for you to pick up. When you don't, suddenly it's your fault. She locks herself in her imaginary tower of a castle of a room. She won't tell what she's doing. She walks into a room and suddenly everything belongs to her. You want to slap some sense into her, but you can't. She's too little. But she's so spoiled.

Dad's always working, "providing" for the family. Yeah, sure, whatever. Tell that to my three step families. The flirt, I don't know why I had to be his son. I wish I had a different father, a better father, a decent father.

Mom is always drinking, attempting to drown her sorrow with herself in her elixir of alcohol. She does nothing all day but lay in bed, recovering from a hangover, only to drink again late into the night and early morning. She flaunts his money, maybe for revenge. But I think it's damaging. She's in the hospital now. It's not the first time, but I bet it won't be the last time.

Anyway, this is my life, my suffering for a sin unknown to me. I don't what I did to deserve it, but I'm doing my time. I'm just trying to make a life out of this.