Apparently I am just as hopeless as my sister.
I have realized that through all that worrying about her,
having my parents constantly crying,
preoccupied with my sister’s problem,
I have fallen through the cracks.

I am supposed to be the good daughter,
the one who doesn’t mess up,
and the one who doesn’t disappoint.
I have constantly had that weighing in the back of my mind,
every second,
everyday.
Every shot I take, every beer I drink, every puff, puff, pass,
I am heading, full speed to the same place my sister is now.
Every night I wish that I were back home,
back in second grade where you didn’t want to drink,
thought it was a strange and mysterious thing adults did.

I fear every night,
in the few minutes before the world is shut out and my dreams take over,
that I will have the same feelings as my sister,
the small thought that you don’t belong.

A thought that grows and grows when showered in alcohol and fertilized with ****.