I hate my anorexic sister
My little sister is anorexic. I have to love her and care for her, because that is what sisters do. Sitting with her during and after every meal so that she can throw it up later should feel like a privilege, I know.
In reality I want her dead. I hate her from her stickin hair follicles down to her toes. She throws up everything she eats from her window (so now mold grows on the outside of our house), she stares in every mirror, she causes a scene in every restaurant, blames the lingering puke in every toilet/sink/bath/flowerbed on us - the other three (ugly) sisters - then has the audacity to pretend to give a shit about what happens in our lives.
She says she'll rather be dead and skinny than fat and alive. At 6 stone, she's pretty damn near achieving that goal. I hate myself for not caring, but the fact is I'm just as terrible as her. I don't give a shit if she dies or not. She wants it and she deserves it.
Sorry if this sounds weird or brattish. I can't feel anything except anger or hatred anymore. I couldn't anyway. Before my sister's anorexia there was always a problem, my family seems to prefer drama to wholesome things like sport, or a nice hearty picnic (or whatever shit families do). It's like the anorexia is just an indication of an all encompassing depression.
Anyway, It has taken over my families' lives, and my sister is really just so selfish that she simply cannot give a fuck. She doesn't care that it's made my twins bulimia worse, that my mum cries at night when she thinks we're all asleep...I can't love anything. I can hear fucking sizzling sausages from the kitchen, where my skinny sister is helping my fat sister cook. And I know she classifies everyone as that: either fat or thin. Even I label people by their weight. I hate food for doing this to my family.
Hopefully my fat sister will eat the skinny one.