Not Good Enough

The start of the pain

Things didn't seem bad if you were looking at it head on. But if you analyzed the situation, you could see there were cracks. Small fractures that if were left alone for too long they would become a massive break. And they did. But I am getting ahead of myself.
My name is Dean. I live in a tiny two-bit town full of broken dreams and wannabe cowboys. I want nothing of this country life.
When I was little, I was a dreamer. I would dance around with my older sister and we watched television. She tried to watch shows like Scooby Doo with me; I preferred shows like Strawberry Shortcake and Care Bears. I was more of a heart and feelings while she preferred actions and thrills.
Our father was a stay at home dad. He would do everything around the house. He cooked wonderful meals, cleaned dishes and all of our clothes, took care of our cows and sheep, and made sure the world ran smoothly.
Now my mother was a different story. I never saw her a lot. I just know she worked in the city. She had to drive an hour to get there. Left early in the morning and came back when we were asleep.
I wish I could say she still loved and provided. But she was the fracture. She was what made us all break.
I thought my father just didn't like sleeping in bed but the truth was he didn't want to sleep alone. We had slumber parties and camp outs in the living room a lot. I thought he just wanted to see us kids happy. But he missed her. He missed mom.
Our father was thought of as weak and stupid because of what he let us kids do. But the weak one was mom. She never came. She never wanted to see us happy. She never wanted anything unless it benefited her.
My sister was a benefit. My sister did great things. She loved sports and was on almost every team. She made mom look like a success. Mom did everything she could to go and see my sister's games and tournaments.
My sister was a champion. My sister was a leader. My sister was everything I wanted to be.