no, I don't forgive you. I never forgave you. but that doesn't matter does it? because you never see how wrong you are. because there are so many days where I think I hate you.
my sister was blatantly horrid towards me for many years. she was never punished. she along with a thousand other people.
it makes my parents angry when I am mean to my sister. it is infuriating and darkly hilarious. where was your anger when I was hurt? oh right. there wasn't any. I have no intentions to stop my 'mean spirited attitude' any time soon, or ever really. why should I? because it will be good for the people who created the "meanness" in the first place? people are so quick to have a problem with how I turned out without ever taking a look around and wondering if maybe they did something wrong. karin has always been the favorite of the universe. always. she was even my favorite for a few stupid childish years.
I was such a little idiot. I cried easily and smiled too much. I was nice to everyone I encountered and I forgave without hesitation. but I was weird. I had a vivid imagination and odd interests, and a fascination with animals. I never quite fit in. when I started school was when I started to be really bullied. people made fun of me. they stole my snack from my backpack when I wasn't paying attention. they pulled my ponytails, and called my thoughts stupid. and that was just kindergarten. but I smiled and swore that I was okay. I allowed myself to be treated badly because when I stood up for myself it only made things worse. I got in trouble with the teacher and I got laughed at. it was pretty much the same as I was with my sister.
I used to love her very much. I followed her everywhere and did whatever she told me to. no matter what I treated her like she was I don't even know. but that was never mutual. it was all about her all the time. I thought I was okay with it. even when she and her friends made me the but of their jokes. even when she cut me out of every game when our parents weren't looking. even when she was so quick to choose anyone else over me. why not? I always forgave her.
she was always doing little things to hurt me.
the day I finally grew a brain was the day all my anger finally caught up with me. it was fifth grade I think, and it was the day report cards were sent home. for whatever reason, my teacher didn't have one for me. I shrugged it off, and walked home from school without giving it further thought. when I walked through the door of the apartment my family lived in my mother was in front of me before I could even say anything. I said hi. she just held out her hand and said "report card". my sister handed her a white envelope and she turned to me. I told her I hadn't gotten a report card. she didn't look happy and I'll never know what she was going to say because before anything else happened karin chimed in with "she's lying, she must be hiding it." the thing that genuinely disgusts me to remember is how no matter how I pleaded and tries to tell her the truth she trusted my sister above all.
she trusted everyone above me. she still does. she told me to giver her the report card or else. I told her I didn't have one to give her. karin had to chime in again and say I was lying.
what drove me next I cant explain. but then I was standing so close to her face that I could feel her breath on my skin and I shouted at her. the exact words escape my memory. shut up perhaps. I wasn't paying attention to what I said. tears burned my eyes and rage seared my veins. my clenched teeth should've hindered my speech, but all I could do to keep my trembling limbs from striking the atrocious dullard in her smug face.
I was pulled back by my arms and my mother was even closer to me than I had been to that worthless girl and she was full on screaming at me. and she was still under the impression that I was lying purely on the merit of what her favorite child said. when she was finished she let go of my arms. the tears had long since spilled over and I hated that they had the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I stormed off to the tiny room I shared with the foul bitch I called sister. I hadn't even noticed there were other people in the apartment until I heard them talking about me. it would be one thing to hear someone comment on my behavior it felt different to hear them making fun of it. in the eyes of everyone I had been the only one in the wrong. and that hurt.
that was the beginning. the beginning of watching my stupidly sweet overtly nice nature fade away, never to be seen again thankfully.
the last straw for karin came on a day when both of our parents were at work. we were outside, and my sister started berating me for the amusement of herself and her friends. I had the nerve to say something back. this sparked an argument. it was a mistake. all her friends joined her in her denigrating. by the end of it they were literally standing in a circle around me all throwing out verbal attacks at once. they all spoke at once but I heard every syllable clear as day. I gave up on defending myself and pushed throught the small crowd (maybe 8 to 10 not including my sister) and fled back to the tiny room int the tiny apartment where I hid behind my bed and cried.
Karin followed me in shortly after. for a second I though she was going to apologize. she told me that I'd better not tell mom what happened.
that was the day I decided I was done being nice. I started throwing out insults, provoked or not. my foolish smile vanished. there was nothing to smile about. it was like that day had forced me to face my reality. my friendless, joyless, unloved reality. my parents didn't have time for me. they were too busy working, partying, and having time for Karin. I told them about the bullying so many times and they got angry at me for it. they told me it was my fault. that I was the problem. I just wanted to curl up and let the misery consume me. I desperately searched for something. something to drown out the sadness and the bitterness that had taken hold of my soul. absolution came in the form of a book. just a random book. I discovered in that one book something I hadn't known: my vivid imagination was still alive inside me and something I hadn't expected: I loved reading. these two things helped me. I learned to live safely in my mind where no one could find me. I also found that I could read better than my sister. I later found that I could solve a puzzle faster. this gave me a gleeful new way to see and treat her: stupid.
oh how nice it felt to tell her about how inferior her intellect was. the feeling of shoving her shortcomings in her face the way everyone did me was indescribable. karin never cared what I said. I knew that and it was annoying to know I wasn't hurting her but it felt good to insult and degrade her. and as a real shock, she liked me insulting her because it gave her ammunition. karin got to play the simpering victim in front of people, and when no one was looking she was a venomous tormentor ten times worse than I could ever be. I didn't care much. the family had always loved her best anyway and now I felt less pathetic.
I had gone from a victim to an adversary and it was so much better than before.
I had thought that being cruel and never exiting the sanctum of my mind was healing me. after all, it was better than before. as years passed, my sister and I became thought of as the cool pretty popular one, and the mean one. I have never been pretty or popular in my life. I thought that I was happy. but I couldn't hide from the pain forever. and that was all I had been doing really, hiding from the pain. building up walls and encasing my heart in armor. refusing to confront life. when I started high school we moved to a new home. I wasn't bullied in my new school but I still treated everyone like the enemy. I didn't interact unless forced and when forced I was distinctly unpleasant and unhesitant to lash out at others. my sister stopped attacking me so often when it stopped being convenient but I never let up my assault.
and that fact did not go unnoticed. my mother constantly went off about me being a bad person and a shitty sister and I tried to be unaffected by her like I was with everyone else. but the only words to race through my head were how dare she? she who did nothing but contribute to who I had become, should have no right to complain about how I was. none of them had a right to have a problem with me. my animosity only grew. I wasn't trapped in a world of only pure agony anymore. I no longer cried myself to sleep every night when nobody could hear me. but I wasn't happy.
upon this realization I began to slowly reach outside myself. and over a year after I began to try, I made friends. I didn't tell them everything, I didn't trust them with my life but they were by far the best friends I had ever had.
now once again karin has accused me of something and my ever uncaring mother refuses to even consider that she is wrong. old wounds feel torn open every time this happens. I make the mistake of saying something less than kind about that wretched accuser and I get a speech about what a bad sister I am. I don't give a damn about what kind of person she thinks I am. all I think as she throws out her insults and taunts is this- I never forgave you. just the same as I never forgave her or any of them you are wrong. you have always been wrong. your kind don't deserve forgiveness. your kind shouldn't be able to hurt me.
so then why, even now, does it still have to hurt so bad when they are mean to me? is it because I am weak and flawed? or is it something else?