Sorry Mom

Skye Davis
Diary Entry.

Sorry mom, I know I don’t make it very easy to love me. Sorry dad, I know I don’t make it very easy to say you are proud. Sorry Brooke, I know how much time you spend trying to teach me how to do these things.
I mean the way I see it is I am in college, I am not involved in any terrible addictions, I made a division three tennis team, I do my homework, I get to class on time, I don’t go out of my way to hurt peoples feelings, I’m polite, composed, well traveled.
The way they see it is I am in college but not making the dean’s list, I am not involved in any terrible addictions but I have friends that are, I made a division three tennis team, but quit, I do my homework but don’t ace every single test, I get to class on time yet have been absent a time or two, I don’t go out of my way to hurt people’s feelings, but don’t compliment often enough, I’m polite but have sworn in anger, composed but crazy, well traveled- wait no, spoiled.
What can I say? I try to do what makes me happy. The happiest person I know is my sister. I have to question though, is her happiness real? It’s not my fault I have to live up to a human who comes as close to perfect as humanly possible. Just because what makes her happy just happens to be what makes everybody else happy, does not make me a failure. Unlucky- maybe. What bothers me the most is that she only cares about my happiness. She would do anything for me. She loves me unconditionally. Of course she does, why wouldn’t she. She’s my best friend. Why wouldn’t she be? Yet I am miserable around her. Not because I am a miserable person, in fact my life is more exciting than hers in so many ways due to my imperfections, that I would never for a moment want to walk one hour in her shoes. I know that it sounds like I am jealous, and yeah- I probably wouldn’t mind if I had her hair and she had mine; but the reason I am miserable around her is because I feel bad for her. I feel the more miserable I am around her, the better balance of emotion we can evade when we are together. She’s in love has been for six years, “high school sweet hearts.” I have suffered from depression; she has suffered from obsession. Mine got me to the point where I could learn to appreciate what it is to be happy. Hers got her nowhere. I want to add depth in her life. She struggles with the fact that she cannot relate to me, it kills her. She wants me to experience the happiness she has found yet I want her to find the sadness that has taught me so much. Happiness is real, when you have earned it. My sister has not earned it, so it’s not as rewarding. She was handed a lot of things that make her happy, not to say she is not a hard worker, because she might just be the definition of such an ideal, but I feel she is missing out on a vital part of life. The hardship. The pain.

I never thought I would wish pain on any one that I loved; but it’s the one difference that pulls us apart. It’s also the one thing that makes it so easy for her to love me. Pity. As well as it is the one thing that makes it so hard for me to understand her. Spite.