Sincerity

You know, the more days I spend alive, the more I'm convinced that the solution and the cause of most of my bouts of depression is my tendency to observe the people around me. I know I contradict myself a lot, by now anyone would have noticed that, but grant me just five minutes and I will explain myself.

As much of a distracted spazz as I may seem (mind you, instead of rejecting that image I embrace it in the name of self sabotage and sheer fear of commitment), I'm actually very aware of the things that go on around me, and I usually catch things that a lot of people seem to miss. I have made a hobby out of observing others, how they act, interact and develop both around others and by themselves. From the years I've spent observing people, I have come to the conclusion that nobody has just one personality, in fact, the more people someone knows, the more personalities they have. I know, it sounds insane, nay, absolutely retarded, but, it's nothing as bad as multiple personalty disorders, it's something much subtle, so much so, that you would only notice it if you sat down and watched someone long enough to catch the small variation in the tone of their voice, their body language and overall demeanor. Why do I mention this you might wonder? It's easy, thanks to those observations, I can discern how truly happy people are, I can gauge their feelings, even guess how their lives are, what kind of problems they might be having, what doubts, fears, kinks and quirks they may have. Thanks to my observations, I can safely say that most of the people around me are miserable to some degree. Miserable, just like I am sometimes, worse even, and believe it or not, that's one hell of a picker-upper.

As morbid and selfish as that may sound, the fact that there's people out there doing worse than me, makes me feel better because I realize that things could be so much worse. It makes me appreciate the things I have and take for granted. However, it also makes me feel bad, because then I think I don't have the right to be such a whiny bitch all the time, when I am actually blessed with many good things that others don't have, such as loving *yet annoying* parents, a brother and a sister, a roof over my head, food at my table and freedom to come and go as I please among many other things that I know I take for granted.

Then again, I also see that lots of people also have things I wish I had, some of which I may never have, such as a loving life partner that is physically by their side, children, a place to call their own, actual careers, real life people to confide in and to share things with. It depresses me, and I somewhat envy them, something that I hate to admit but that I should do in order to stick to my "sincerity" theme. Which, by the way, is something absolutely hypocritical. Really, who on this planet can say they are 100% sincere? No one, everyone has something they hide so sincerity is nothing more than a pretty concept we came up with to coerce others to be as honest as the can manage to be around us while we go and act like someone else around them. Honesty, just like loyalty and many other human virtues are nothing but a pack of empty words, little porcelain shells for the nasty, putrid yolk that is human nature.

I know those are bitter words, but mind you, I'm only writing what I think without disguising it with nice words, I'm a hypocrite myself, because I can only be honest like this when I know those who might stumble upon it don't know who I am. Here I don't have a name or a face, you don't know me, so I feel free to say whatever the hell I want without fear of what the consequences may be. I'm am positive no one I know will ever read this, therefore I am fearless, theoretically speaking.



Just had a brainfart btw, so I'm changing subjects if only briefly before I finish this post.

My sister came to us on Sunday, I kindda expected her to stop by, after all, it WAS mother's day, and the bitch owes our mother at least that. In all honesty, I didn't even know she was here, I was asleep, and given the fact that I usually just ignore her presence after the first five minutes of her rare visits, my guess is no one bothered to wake me to save me the trouble of sitting in the same room as her while trying to pretend to care about whatever shit she's talking about (in other words, money, how her job sucks, what new thing her redneck bastard lover is up to and what she's bought ever since her last visit).

Now, before you go on and pass judgment and crown me as the worst sibling in the history of mankind, second only to Cain himself, let me summarize the last four years of my relationship with my sister.

My sister and I had always been together, we even slept on the same bed until well into our teens (as creepy as that may sound). In fact, we spent so much time together at home, we wouldn't spent much time together at school. She's a year younger and we both had our own friends, it wasn't that big of a deal, given that we are quite literally polar opposites. People often think we're twins, but that's as far as the resemblance goes. (just in case you don't get it yet, she's a dog, I'm a cat/she's gold, I'm silver/I'm black and she's white and so freakin' on) It never quite bothered me to be distant at school, the gods know I was actually glad that I got a chance to breathe my own air for a few hours. But as we grew up, we became closer, best friends even. She would tell me everything about her, I'd talk to her about the things that bothered me and so on. I thought she was as honest as I was with her, but it all turned out to be a mask.

She suddenly decided to join the army when she was on her first year of college. I was kindda shocked that she of all people would want to do something like that *she's the girliest, whiniest girl to have ever lived*, but I figured that us coming from a military family, she just wanted to follow on our predecessor's steps. I supported her as much as my prideful emotions would allow *I'm a conundrum, stick around and you'll find out just how contradicting I am*. The day came when she left for basic training, and shortly after me moved to NC, in great part to be closer to her. She was discharged just a week before her graduation due to medical issues and when she came back to live with us, she was a different person, or should I say, she was herself more than ever.

Her inner, selfish little critter came out, and she became an obnoxious bitch. I blamed it on her training, perhaps she was frustrated, maybe depressed, who the hell knew? I just refused to believe that she was really that ugly a person. One day she told me she was going to run away from our house, about a month before our dad had a complicated surgery on his ankle. I pleaded with her, asked her to please talk to us if something was bothering, to at least wait until my dad's recovery was done, after a few days of negotiations, she promised me she'd wait until after the surgery *yeah, because she wouldn't talk to us about what bothered her no matter what* We used to work together, and one day I was working and she was off, she just jumped out of our window and left while I was at work.

That afternoon after work, I came home to the most dreadful silence I have ever experienced. It was one of the most awkward things to get in the car with a damn pastry for my sister and find out she was gone, just like that. My heart sank and I think I cried enough to water our yard for a good year. I was angry, sad, confused, but overall, I felt betrayed, by none other than my own sister.

There are really no words to explain just how pissed I was afterwards. Dealing with a torn house almost broke me. My mother went into full denial, replacing sadness with resentment and anger, my father became even more depressed, my brother was also angry and me, being the emotional equivalent of a comatose earthworm, simply bottled things up and kept a straight face for everyone.

I won't lie though, I cried the first night without her by my side. And it wasn't because I missed her, we'd been apart during her training and I was fine, but it was the fact that things would never be the same between us, the fact that she'd betrayed me and that I may never see her again *the whore did write a letter saying she was leaving the state and not coming back* It broke me, as corny as that sounds.

Then a few months after she reappeared, acting like nothing happened, to tell my parents what she said was "the truth", in other words, to reveal that all our lives we lived THINKING we knew her. It was very confusing for everyone, and it angered me, so much so, to this day, I haven't fully forgiven her, and I know I never will. I'm a vindictive little bitch, and I can and will hold a grudge until the day I die, even against her.

Hence why she's usually referred to as "the bitch" or something along those lines.

So, on to what my point was...

Last Sunday she came over, and after much prodding and asking, my parents finally got her to say why she's been so out of it during her last visits. It turns out, the disgusting piece of trailer-park shit she's living with has been abusing her verbally and emotionally for the last few months, she says he's never laid a finger on her, but with her you can only believe half of what she says.

My father asked her if she wanted to leave the redneck bastard and she said yes, for the first time in 4 years she seemed to have made a decision that made sense. So with that plan in mind, they woke me up so we could take her to get her things together.

Now, my father is a man of the law, he was both a cop and a soldier, and being street smart as hell, he decided to take the police along to prevent things from getting ugly. Around 3p.m. we arrived at her house with two cops behind us. After the dipshit calmed down, she went in and grabbed as many of her clothes as she could. Mind you, all the while, her cracker jack is talking shit because in his narrow, deluded, paranoid excuse of a head WE had manipulated her into her decision.

After all her stuff was in our trunk, we left, only to have the little bitch go back to him the moment we got back home.

Now, had she stayed, she would have had all my support, I would have set everything aside and helped her, but after what she did after we went through all that trouble, I say FUCKIT. I love to help people and even more if they're my blood, but if I throw someone a rope and they still drown because they wouldn't grab on to it, I won't feel an ounce of sadness or regret. So from now on, we're back to "she-can-kiss-my-ass" terms.

I would try to understand what she's done had we been raised in a home where our parents abused each other, or where women are passive little creatures that do as told, but things are not like that. My mother's a strong, powerful woman, and enabler of her daughters and fierce defender of her family., in other words she does not take shit from anyone, and she and my father are equals in their relationship. Our mom empowered us, she encouraged being independent, pride in being women and respect for ourselves and our blood above everything else. I most certainly can't understand why my sister is acting the way she is, or maybe I can, she's become dependent of that asshole and it saddens me to a point.

I pray to the goddess I never become a measly shell of a woman like her. I pray she opens her eyes and realizes her life is going to Hades before it's too late.

Stupid bitch...