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I fucking hate my brother. He screws up his life, makes mistakes left and right, games the system, and it always works out for him. Somebody or something always saves his ass.
Sure I'm a little jealous. If I tried to pull the crap he does, or got myself into the trouble he got himself into, I'd have been disowned, in jail, or dead. I do all the right things, work my ass off, never get in any trouble, and I'm fucked.
Of the three siblings, he's the one who got the most of everything poured into his sorry ass. If he hit me, I wasn't allowed to hit him back. He hit a lot. If he broke my stuff, I had to suck it up. When I competed in sports, my dad came to a couple of games or meets. But for my brother, well, he coached the team, because it was important!
I busted a fog light cover on one car, once. My brother totaled three cars. Totaled them. Once by wrapping it around a tree, as I recall. I can't even count the number of times I got told I couldn't do something with my father or grandfather because my brother needed 'man time' (ok, they didn't say 'man time', they said something like time with male role models or some such crap).
He was always hurting himself, or sick, or in the hospital. So everything was always rearranged around poor him. Not because it was always necessary, but because god forbid the precious boy didn't get everything he needed. He rebroke his arm inside a cast once because he was angry, for crying out loud. Where we lived, where we went to school - all arranged so he could get whatever he needed. Theoretically it considered other people's needs, but always after his.
My parents promised me that if we moved into a house, I would get my own bedroom again, especially when I was around junior high age. Being the oldest, I had my own room until I was 7. At that point, they decided that the twins, my brother and sister, needed to be gender separated (they were 2). So I had to share my room all of a sudden. About getting my own room - Nope. Guess who got their own room? Oh, well, he has special needs. Special needs my ass. There are real needs, and then there's co-dependent bullshit. He needed his own room so he could put his fist through the wall on a regular basis? He needed his own room so he could constantly sneak into our room just to freak my sister out? Here's a thought - get everybody their own room.
He's a rageful little bastard over nothing and has actually threatened my life with physical harm more than once. But I should understand. My father has had to physically intervene with him threatening me, but somehow, my parents don't remember any of those occasions. Meanwhile, remember what I said about not being allowed to hit the little shit back if he hit me?
My dad's bias towards the son and heir is nothing compared to my mom's. Man, co-dependency isn't the half of it. And now that the son and heir has produced a boy-child, well! What my parents wouldn't do for the grand son.
And if you think I'm being angry and awful about him and the chauvinism and misogyny of our upbringing? You should hear my sister.
I fucking hate my brother. He screws up his life, makes mistakes left and right, games the system, and it always works out for him. Somebody or something always saves his ass.
Sure I'm a little jealous. If I tried to pull the crap he does, or got myself into the trouble he got himself into, I'd have been disowned, in jail, or dead. I do all the right things, work my ass off, never get in any trouble, and I'm fucked.
Of the three siblings, he's the one who got the most of everything poured into his sorry ass. If he hit me, I wasn't allowed to hit him back. He hit a lot. If he broke my stuff, I had to suck it up. When I competed in sports, my dad came to a couple of games or meets. But for my brother, well, he coached the team, because it was important!
I busted a fog light cover on one car, once. My brother totaled three cars. Totaled them. Once by wrapping it around a tree, as I recall. I can't even count the number of times I got told I couldn't do something with my father or grandfather because my brother needed 'man time' (ok, they didn't say 'man time', they said something like time with male role models or some such crap).
He was always hurting himself, or sick, or in the hospital. So everything was always rearranged around poor him. Not because it was always necessary, but because god forbid the precious boy didn't get everything he needed. He rebroke his arm inside a cast once because he was angry, for crying out loud. Where we lived, where we went to school - all arranged so he could get whatever he needed. Theoretically it considered other people's needs, but always after his.
My parents promised me that if we moved into a house, I would get my own bedroom again, especially when I was around junior high age. Being the oldest, I had my own room until I was 7. At that point, they decided that the twins, my brother and sister, needed to be gender separated (they were 2). So I had to share my room all of a sudden. About getting my own room - Nope. Guess who got their own room? Oh, well, he has special needs. Special needs my ass. There are real needs, and then there's co-dependent bullshit. He needed his own room so he could put his fist through the wall on a regular basis? He needed his own room so he could constantly sneak into our room just to freak my sister out? Here's a thought - get everybody their own room.
He's a rageful little bastard over nothing and has actually threatened my life with physical harm more than once. But I should understand. My father has had to physically intervene with him threatening me, but somehow, my parents don't remember any of those occasions. Meanwhile, remember what I said about not being allowed to hit the little shit back if he hit me?
My dad's bias towards the son and heir is nothing compared to my mom's. Man, co-dependency isn't the half of it. And now that the son and heir has produced a boy-child, well! What my parents wouldn't do for the grand son.
And if you think I'm being angry and awful about him and the chauvinism and misogyny of our upbringing? You should hear my sister.
((hugs)) * gives you a place to scream and things to throw *
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