My mom wasn’t a good person. I mean, she was as good as she could be, but it wasn’t good enough. often leaving my sister to fend for herself, leaving for days at a time.

My dad wasn’t much better. Alcoholic. I found out what that word meant when I was 7 then I was able to connect the dots. my sister was nearly 10 when I was born. when I was put in to this world my parents decided they would shape up. but the trauma they caused her lingered on to me, causing great anxiety. my parents treated her badly, but the flaws that I have, have been sewn together with good intention. That’s not an excuse, it’s never an excuse. My sister hates me for how they treat me. I hate myself too. Sometimes, I wish I was never born, for her sake.