07/02/2011
We signed a lease for another year, but apparently, that didn’t matter to my sister. I followed her 350 miles away from home, only for her to leave again after I set up a new life. I have graduate school now, and a job. I could leave my job with no problem, but the school is an issue. I have roots.
I wish I didn’t. I would like to be mobile. One of my friends spent last summer living in a tent in Alaska. I envy that kind of mobility. But I have pets, and a job, and classes, and pets, and three bookshelves full of books. You don’t go anywhere when you’ve got this many books. I have bills that need a permanent mailing address to come to.
My parents basically ruined my young adulthood. I had planned to go away to university. I had been recruited by practically every university in the country, including some pretty prestigious ones. I had plans. I put them to rest, though, when my mother told me that they were losing the house. Most kids who go to college pack a few bags and boxes to go live in a dorm. They leave most of their stuff behind. Furniture, books, stuffed animals, extra bedding. I didn’t have that option anymore. Instead, I found an apartment in town and applied to the local university/glorified community college. So much for my great future. Instead of going to college and having adventures, I got to stay home and vegetate.
It’s not as if I would have gotten into any of those prestigious universities, though. There’s no point in getting angry about it. Right? Right.
Two weeks after I graduated high school, I had roots. I had responsibilities. Responsibilities that I could never put down. And yes, it’s childish to want no responsibilities, and yes I’m an immature, annoying little whiner.
The fact remains, though. While my sister flits off to her shiny, new life, I am left with the roots.
What really pisses me off, though, is that the job she applied for…it’s not that special. She could have gotten a job just like it, with better pay, without moving 350 miles away. But she didn’t even apply. She didn’t. even. apply. She filled out about 3 job applications before just fucking quitting and deciding to take a position at home. What the fuck?
But I have to pretend to be happy for her. Even though I think she’s making a terrible choice and a stupid move. Because she doesn’t even want to go, and is all sad and shit about it. I don’t want to add to it, so I pretend I’m happy and excited for her. I’m torn about it. I mean, it’s her dumbass choice that she didn’t think through, and I think she should have to live with the repercussions of that, including my irritation. At the same time, she’s “sacrificing” so much for “us.” You see, her job is just not “her” job, it’s “for the betterment of the group.” Fucking martyr shit. If you frame it that way, I look like an asshole if I’m mad. Like I’m not grateful for the “huge sacrifice.” A sacrifice I never asked her to make, but that’s irrelevant.
I just want out of this. Out of my whole life. The only thing worthwhile in it is my two cats. I hate my dog, and I’m tired of pretending like I don’t. She’s a loud, smelly, messy mistake. But, much like genital warts, you make one mistake and you’re stuck with it for life. My dog is genital warts. I’m not going to give her away because my sister’s boyfriend loves her, even if he does exactly 0 pet care. Also, I took on a responsibility and I do not shirk my responsibilities. My sister gets to move to a nice, clean apartment with no smelly, disgusting beast. I think she hates the dog as much as I do, and she ALSO does 0 pet care. So she gets a nice reprieve. She gets a reprieve, and I get stuck taking care of her stupid, toddler boyfriend who can’t manage the simplest of tasks without being instructed, and whines and complains when he IS instructed. What a fucking loser.<span style="mso-spacerun:
yes”> And the dog. I get extra housework, because toddler boyfriend isn’t going to do anything unless I ask, and I’m not going to ask an almost 30-year-old man to do his chores like I’m his mother. It is damn well time for him to grow up.
Now I’m more angry than I was before.