Tainted Pages

Accident or Mistake?

There's something I noticed about me and my older sister. It's that we're a lot alike. But not in the good way. It's more in the bad way. For instance we both take the bad characteristics of our parents. Stubborn, annoying, arrogant etc.

We like to fight too. Well, it's not that we like it, it's that it's the only thing we know how to do, besides putting each other down. I insult my younger siblings and she makes me feel like crap. Our parents treat her like shit too, but what can I say? That's how life is. It's a cycle that may never end. It's also why we never get along.

If I make the slightest mistake she's on me like a fly when it sees the tiniest scrap of food. She calls me names I don't think anybody would ever want to be called and makes me feel like a failure. I shouldn't let it get to me, but she's my older sister. So of course it gets to me. Whether I want to admit it or not I look up to her. She's my older sister, of course I do. So when she says something messed up to me, even if she doesn't mean it, I take it to heart.

Which negatively impacts me. I end up calling myself things I hope no one is ever called and it only lowers my self esteem. Which in turn, makes me take it out on other people. Whether they're friends or family. I take it out on everybody because I can't properly control it. In this way I realized I'm a terrible person. So I start hating myself more. Then I start taking it out on more people and it becomes a neverending cycle. Eventually it gets so bad that I can't figure out why I'm mad at myself anymore and I start to hate myself over the smallest and most inconvenient things. To the point of death..

That's what my sister and I have in common. We hated ourselves and other people to the point where we ended up killing ourselves. I didn't mean to die. She didn't mean to die. It just sort of happened. She was mad at herself one day and conveniently enough she had a load of pills in her bathroom. Popped a few of those bad boys in thinking nothing would happen and boom. Dead. I slit my wrists and thighs when I thought,

"Why not just slit your throat too?"

So I did.

Accidents happen. At least that's what I like to call them, because I refuse to admit that I was so fucked up that I ended up killing myself on purpose.

I feel bad though. I sit here looking at my family and realizing what a mess I made. Now they have to plan a funeral during my birth month. I really should have thought this through. In my next life, I think I'll do it on Valentine's, because I don't know what love is anyway.

Toodles.