My sister says its mental.
That what is wrong with me is all in my brain.
My stomachaches after eating, constant headaches and wanting to throw up at the though of food.
She says she had the same problem with food, when she was younger. Hers turned out to be anxiety, she tells me. She went to therapy with it, still it doesn’t seem like whatever I am going through, anxiety or not, is a priority in this family. Its never quite important enough. “Maybe we will go to the doctor next month, to see what is wrong with your stomach,” my parents say. I have hope, although I dont know if I believe them. It took a whole year for me to get to go to the doctor with my knee.
I don’t blame them, though. They have a whole lot to do with my sister. After dealing with work, my sister and cooking it might be hard to have the energy to deal with another one of their children's problems. And I get it. I wouldn’t have enough energy either. I don’t even have enough energy as it is to do anything besides lying in my bed all day.
Its not like they don’t love me. I know they do.
It would just be nice, to know I also had a place and a voice in this family. My problems are never really big enough for them to matter. It is always about my sister. And it’s not like I blame them or her. She really, truly do have problems. Problems bigger and much more important than mine.
So I take care of my sister and everything I can, when I have to, smile, even when it’s hard, so they don’t have any more to worry about, and do everything I can, for them to never say the sentence “I miss the old you,” again.
I know they miss the old me. It’s not like I haven’t heard enough times. Every single time they say it, it breaks me a little more. Because what have they done to lose the old, energetic, happy me? Believe me, I miss her too.
I miss 4th grade, when I was doing perfect in school, only ever got 100 on tests and didn’t have to worry about disappointing them. Now that’s all I worry about. That’s all it feels like I do. My 100’s have been replaced with 95’s and the energy replaced with tears.
I miss 2nd grade me. I had fantasy for days, and spent just the right amount of time with my friends, and family. Even though my voice might have been annoying, and I was a goody-two-shoes, at least I was happy. And so were my parents. My sisters problems weren’t as bad as they are now, and neither were mine.
When I was younger, all I needed was for my best friend to listen to my problems, and they would go away. Now, my problems are back, but it doesn’t seem like she listens anymore.
It doesn’t seem like she cares, like she even likes me anymore. It doesn’t seem like any of my friends do.
Besides disappointing my family, annoying my friends are one of the main things I think about. Everyday, after, before and during every hangout, that’s all I can think about.
“He looked annoyed when I did that,”
“I’m always so loud,”
“My voice was so annoying,”
“Why did I act like that?”
“What is wrong with me?”
A question, always floating around, always unanswered. It’s always there, in the back of my mind. Ready to attack whenever.
And it does often. It knows exactly how, it attacks with the precision only professionals have. It’s really good at it. After every attack I’m left to die. Im left lifeless on the pavement, bleeding out. Every time it is stronger than the last, every attack more precise. It cuts, stabs and slices up my forearms with a knife made up by my thoughts.
I try to cover it. Cover it with smiles and a long sleeve. I try to push it away. Push it away by spending as little time with myself as possible. But I know it’s not changing anything. Im only delaying the inevitable. One day it’s going to swallow me alive, and there is nothing I can or have the energy to do to stop it. I know spending so much time away is probably making it worse. The smoking and drinking. They boys and the ***** None of it is doing anything to help it, but as I always say to myself as a justification “I have to do everything I can to make life livable”.
It might be dumb, I know it is. In the end I’m left with less will to live, than I started with.
And now we’re back where we started. The disappointment, the annoyance. Smoking, drinking, boys and never being home, makes me feel like more of a disappointment than anything else. Spending so much time with my friends, especially when drinking is involved makes me feel so much more annoying.
So, what even is the point?
Jan 8
Jan 8, 2026 at 6:30 PM UTC
My sister says its mental.
That what is wrong with me is all in my brain.
My stomachaches after eating, constant headaches and wanting to throw up at the though of food.
She says she had the same problem with food, when she was younger. Hers turned out to be anxiety, she tells me. She went to therapy with it, still it doesn’t seem like whatever I am going through, anxiety or not, is a priority in this family. Its never quite important enough. “Maybe we will go to the doctor next month, to see what is wrong with your stomach,” my parents say. I have hope, although I dont know if I believe them. It took a whole year for me to get to go to the doctor with my knee.
I don’t blame them, though. They have a whole lot to do with my sister. After dealing with work, my sister and cooking it might be hard to have the energy to deal with another one of their children's problems. And I get it. I wouldn’t have enough energy either. I don’t even have enough energy as it is to do anything besides lying in my bed all day.
Its not like they don’t love me. I know they do.
It would just be nice, to know I also had a place and a voice in this family. My problems are never really big enough for them to matter. It is always about my sister. And it’s not like I blame them or her. She really, truly do have problems. Problems bigger and much more important than mine.
So I take care of my sister and everything I can, when I have to, smile, even when it’s hard, so they don’t have any more to worry about, and do everything I can, for them to never say the sentence “I miss the old you,” again.
I know they miss the old me. It’s not like I haven’t heard enough times. Every single time they say it, it breaks me a little more. Because what have they done to lose the old, energetic, happy me? Believe me, I miss her too.
I miss 4th grade, when I was doing perfect in school, only ever got 100 on tests and didn’t have to worry about disappointing them. Now that’s all I worry about. That’s all it feels like I do. My 100’s have been replaced with 95’s and the energy replaced with tears.
I miss 2nd grade me. I had fantasy for days, and spent just the right amount of time with my friends, and family. Even though my voice might have been annoying, and I was a goody-two-shoes, at least I was happy. And so were my parents. My sisters problems weren’t as bad as they are now, and neither were mine.
When I was younger, all I needed was for my best friend to listen to my problems, and they would go away. Now, my problems are back, but it doesn’t seem like she listens anymore.
It doesn’t seem like she cares, like she even likes me anymore. It doesn’t seem like any of my friends do.
Besides disappointing my family, annoying my friends are one of the main things I think about. Everyday, after, before and during every hangout, that’s all I can think about.
“He looked annoyed when I did that,”
“I’m always so loud,”
“My voice was so annoying,”
“Why did I act like that?”
“What is wrong with me?”
A question, always floating around, always unanswered. It’s always there, in the back of my mind. Ready to attack whenever.
And it does often. It knows exactly how, it attacks with the precision only professionals have. It’s really good at it. After every attack I’m left to die. Im left lifeless on the pavement, bleeding out. Every time it is stronger than the last, every attack more precise. It cuts, stabs and slices up my forearms with a knife made up by my thoughts.
I try to cover it. Cover it with smiles and a long sleeve. I try to push it away. Push it away by spending as little time with myself as possible. But I know it’s not changing anything. Im only delaying the inevitable. One day it’s going to swallow me alive, and there is nothing I can or have the energy to do to stop it. I know spending so much time away is probably making it worse. The smoking and drinking. They boys and the ***** None of it is doing anything to help it, but as I always say to myself as a justification “I have to do everything I can to make life livable”.
It might be dumb, I know it is. In the end I’m left with less will to live, than I started with.
And now we’re back where we started. The disappointment, the annoyance. Smoking, drinking, boys and never being home, makes me feel like more of a disappointment than anything else. Spending so much time with my friends, especially when drinking is involved makes me feel so much more annoying.
So, what even is the point?