Ugh. I feel like a bad person, because sometimes, I get totally sick of my family. Not my own mother, at least most of the time, but my extended family. It feels like they organise my life, or at least my special occasions, and just generally make me not look forward to family celebrations. Which seems contradictory. Family celebrations should be good, right? Yet they are about my least favourite thing to do. I have my small cousins thrust in my face constantly as small people who are far better than I'll ever be (note: everything these supposed prodigies can do, I could totally do at their age. Except crossover skipping. But who cares about skipping, anyway. I could, like, count to 100 and beyond when I was 4. Beat that, bitches). Clearly, whatever I do will never be good enough, as either Ann or Barbara could do it better than me. I eat the wrong thing, say the wrong thing, do the wrong subjects. I hate it. I shouldn't care but I do. This is my family. Of all the people in the world, your family should be the supportive, nurturing ones, right? Ha. Clearly you have the wrong family.
The problem is, if I rebel against it all, it just makes the situation worse. And yet I don't want to just pander and smile and do what I'm told. What the hell kind of life is that? Bastard catch 22...I don't want them to hate me, yet to do what it would take to please them would be unbearable. Gah.
Screw this. I don't need it anymore. But as they say, you can't choose your family. Which, as I'm seeing more and more, is a tremendous pity. On days when you are supposed to celebrate family, I find myself hating mine. Does that seem right to you???