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Munchhausen syndrome. Look it up. Because I think you have it.
I've always thought you were too sensitive for your own good. I mean, you developed anorexia nervosa because some random guys at the bus stop said that they wouldn't want to have sex with you. Does that mean you would have had sex with them if they had wanted to? Is your self esteem that low?
But one day, I started suspecting that maybe no. You're not really all that sensitive. Maybe you just like being sick and playing the victim because of all the attention you get. After all, they say low self-esteem is the highest form of self-love. After seeing what you get into, I believe that now. When did I start thinking like that? Oh, yeah. It was when you invited me to your house just so you could cry on my shoulder for an hour.
Don't get me wrong. I would have gladly offered you my shoulder any time. But that day, I wasn't expecting you to find you in tears. I expected to find you tired and subdued, yes. After all, you postponed our meeting a day because you were tired and then moved the location to your house from the mall because you didn't feel up to handling the crowd. But in tears? Because you didn't like the way you looked in the mirror after your shower? Your hair was dry, save for some tears and snot dripping from a few strands of your hair. You've been crying long enough for your hair to dry and you did nothing to warn me of your predicament. I think that's illogical. I think a logical person would have called me and said asked me how close I was to your house and that you weren't feeling up to it after all and that you were a mess, and sorry I had to waste my time coming out all the way out there. Then my response probably would have been to tell you not to worry about it, I'm almost there any way, and I would want to be there for you when you were so down. But you didn't even give me that option. You just sprung that on me.
It was then that I started noticing a pattern. Whenever I talked to you, you were getting into some program or course or getting referred to a specialist or whatever. Then I'd be happy for you because you were finally getting the help you need in your bout with anorexia, and if not, at least you'll have something to keep your mind off of your crippling depression. But then, the next time I talk to you, you'd say that you tried it once and you didn't think it was what you needed so you're dropping out. Or that you've been taking time off because you're so damn tired. As if you don't actually want to get help; you just like all the attention you get being new and being so down.
And then it was Christmas Eve. We were supposed to meet the day before to watch a scary movie together but you didn't tell me what time until the day before that, which turned out to be 1 PM. Then on the day of you postponed it to Christmas Eve but the time we meet will still be 11 AM. Wait, huh? It was like what happened when you invited me to your house so you could borrow my shoulder without telling me. I should have said no. It was Christmas Eve, after all. I wanted to spend it with my family, and in fact, I had planned to spend the evening with my family.
Not just that. You didn't even tell me where we were going or what we were doing and when we'd be done. I thought I was going over to your house to watch a scary movie and then our mutual friend would come over and join us for the said activity. But then you said you were going to give me a ride if I went to your house. To... where? Where are we going? You said we were going to go meet the said mutual friend. So I figured we were going to take DVDs to the said mutual friend's house to watch scary movies. So I asked you, having fallen out of touch with the said mutual friend, what her address was, so I can just meet you there. You said you weren't sure. Okay. And then you texted me saying that you'd feel better if I came with you.
Feel better? Than what? My first thought was that you were already crying. Why, because I said I wanted to go there on my own and meet you there? That's ridiculous, even for you. Then I wondered if you were going to drive me to some dark alley to kill me in some demonic ritual. But that's crazy, even for me.
So instead of driving myself to the mutual friend's place and meeting you there, I got my parents to drive me to your place, instead. So I can stand in your living room feeling nauseous at the smell of the bacon your family had for breakfast. Then we finally got out of the house and I breathed a sigh of relief as I climbed into your parents' car. I was in the middle despite you being thinner than me, but that was fine. Your condition has left your bones weak and brittle, after all. But then I realized that I could still smell the bacon off of your sister's clothes. And your mom's clothes. And your dad's clothes. And your parents' car smelled reminiscent of our middle school gym change room. I'm getting nauseous again just thinking about the whole ordeal.
So I sat in the midst of all that, trying not to breathe in too deep and trying not to give in to my morning grumpiness, when I realized that we were going way too far and I no longer knew where we were. I asked you one more time. Where are we going? Oh! We weren't going to the mutual friend's place! We were going to meet her in a surplus store in a city I've never been in! Okay! That might have been a handy knowledge to have, but alright! We're going to meet her there and change location to where we're going to watch scary movies, right?
Wait, what? We're not going to watch a scary movie? Was anything you told me initially true? But I can't blame you for this one. After all, none of us knew what we were going to do after we met up, which turned out to be bumming around in a tiny little dying mall in this foreign city none of us are familiar with. But that was fine. Our mutual friend and I had a nice lunch, you didn't, we went into a couple of stores, you both bought something, I didn't, and then our mutual friend gave us a bracelet each from her purchases.
Things hit a low note again quickly, though. We came back to the surplus store to be picked up. We looked all over the surplus store trying to amuse ourselves, then our mutual friend just had to go. We waited to be picked up for a little longer and then I asked you when your mother was coming to pick us up. You texted her and she texted back with "soon", which turned out to be in an hour. Are everyone in your family like this? Had she said "an hour" instead of "soon", I could have arranged another ride home so that I could make it to my appointment that evening. Had she said "an hour" instead of "soon", we could have moved to somewhere more interesting than the surplus store in which we had seen everything and amused ourselves some more before coming back to be picked up instead of loitering around in a GODDAMNED SURPLUS STORE like a couple of bums getting in the way of the cashiers!
Your dad finally gets there and he does that little schtick he does where he smiles widely and waves and drives off, as if to say "haha, you're stranded here and I'm abandoning you!" It always makes me want to turn around and leave and get back home on my own. But I can't do that, because instead of driving here like I wanted to do at first I had to have your parents give me a ride. Not only that, I don't know where I am, I can't find any bus connection to home, and if I ask my parents, it would take them a half hour to just get here and I do not want to wait another half hour on top of the first one hour I waited here.
So I did the next best (read "worst") thing. I snapped. Hard. And I'm not proud of the way I said it, but I was sick and tired of all this garbage and I felt that they needed to be said. First, I said that there isn't a bus connection from here to my home. You said you were sure that I could get a ride with your parents. Well, where is he going, then, was my reply. Then I said that I wished you had told me where we were going this morning. You could have at least told me the name of the city we were going to.
Then your father was done with his stupid little comedy act and we got in the car. I was in the middle again, of course. I put on my best "there's nothing wrong and I'm not completely angry with you all" smile on my face and asked to be dropped off at a transit station on the way. Your parents were happy to comply, unlike what you would have done had I not made it clear that I was mad. You always invite me back to your house even though I never have anything to do in your house other than sit on the couch bored out of your mind while you play your 1p games and show me cut-scenes out of order. Oh, yes. Those are some impressive CG work there. I wish I had an idea what the plot was.
But I digress, because you see, this was when shit really hit the fan. Your mother asked what was wrong and I noticed that you were crying ever so softly sitting beside me. Their concerned tones increased and I felt that I had to come clean.
"I yelled at her."
It was poor choice of words, because apparently they took it to mean that I raised my voice at you. I did complain to you but I didn't raise my voice. I'm sure of that. I get quiet when I'm angry.
"Well, why did you yell at her? Did she bring up (a mutual friend of you and our mutual friend whom I just can't stand)?"
"No, it wasn't because of that", though you did bring her up. But I'm not such a controlling bitch that I can't stand my friends being friends with someone I dislike. I just ask that you don't put me in the same room with them. And even if you do, I'm willing to be civil just for that hour or so.
"Well, was it because she didn't eat?"
"No, it wasn't because of of that, though she did indeed eat nothing."
"Well, yelling at her isn't going to help!" your sister snapped. I looked at her.
"I just said that that wasn't the reason." I said that a second ago.
"Oh," your sister sounded so lost, but then she gathered up her anger once more. "Well, it's still not going to help!"
I sighed and decided not to mention that the said yelling didn't occur until hours after you didn't eat anything.
At this point, your family stopped addressing any questions to me, in deference to asking YOU for information. Which is fine. I understand. I was the instigator here, and you are their daughter. But the problem was that you weren't offering them any information. At least, not ones you didn't make up in your head. Only thing you could offer them was "I'm sorry", "I'm a bad friend", "I deserved to be yelled at", and "I should be punished"; which meant that your family thought that I had said those things to you. I mean, who even talks like that? A dominatrix ("you've been a bad friend. You should be punished. Now bend over and apologize and say you deserve it." hua-chi!)?!?
Your father was silent (though I think it's mostly because he couldn't hear what was going on, being hard of hearing) and your mother was for the most part, as well, other than wanting to change seats with me, which would have been great, were we not on a highway and unable to stop for a seating rearrangement. Your sister got as nasty as she could be, though, which was not really all that nasty but not for the lack of trying. She started saying how you were the best person EVAR and how some people don't deserve you as a friend and not necessarily anyone in this car. That was so obvious so I called out on it.
"If you're trying to guilt-trip me, it's not working."
"No! I'm talking about (another friend), who mumble mumble."
I didn't buy it but I left it at that. Of course, that meant she kept saying the same line once every few minutes. Not trying to guilt-trip me my perfect little ass.
She also mumbled something about the Grinch who stole the Christmas. Which I take offense at. Grinch was a horrible villain. I don't mean that he was wicked. I mean that he was being bad at being a villain. He was trying to steal Christmas, which doesn't even exist, and then targeted the decorations and presents thinking that was obviously Christmas, and no one even paid any attention to him. If you're going to liken me to a villain, at least pick one who's half-competent, since where Grinch failed to steal anyone's Christmas, I obviously have according to your mumblings. And if I'm the Grinch, that makes y'all the Whos. And that makes y'all horrid Whos. I'm not saying that you're mean or anything. I'm just saying, see, the Whos never defeated the Grinch by mumbling viciously in his presence and trying to guilt trip him into giving Christmas back. They just took no notice of him and had fun anyway, showing the Grinch that Christmas is in the hearts of people celebrating it, and not in the presents and decorations, turning the Grinch into an old grouch into a happy Santa figure. The Whos would have never been able to get Grinch to give Christmas back by being snide and wicked right back to him, and you won't make me want to apologize by trying to guilt-trip me.
What else? Oh, yes. This year had been so crappy for you already that you don't need this on top of it. I agree you probably didn't need this, but neither did I. And not to make light of your hardships, but let's put this in perspective.
You started dieting and ultimately fell into the clutches of anorexia because some random guys on the bus stop said that they wouldn't want to have sex with you. But at least your parents were supportive. Before you got anorexia, they supported you getting fit for your health, and after anorexia, they supported you trying to get better for the sake of your health. My parents told me I was too fat and that I had to lose weight when I was 110 pounds. I never developed anorexia.
Your grandmother is sick with cancer. That's always sad. My grandfather on my mother's side had cancer. Then he passed away, not due to cancer, but due to the treatment of cancer and his age. Before that, in the same year, my grandfather on my father's side had passed away because of diabetes. He had passed away the day after he came all the way to Canada to visit us, and we were blaming ourselves for his passing for a while since then. If he hadn't pushed himself and came out all this way from Korea, would he have lived a little longer? The worst part was that I wasn't able to attend either of their funerals. I still cry over it when I think about it. I'm crying right now, typing this up. But I'm not a broken heap about it like you are.
Your first boyfriend verbally abused you and then harassed you after you broke up. My first boyfriend tried to date rape me every time we got together, and I was too young and dumb and idealistic to see it for what it was. And I think you're being too paranoid about the said "harassment". You just said that he kept emailing you about stories about the city you grew up in. I do that with my favourite ex-boyfriend because I think he might find them interesting, and he does that to me back. I mean, I don't know what these stories are, but I think you're making a big deal out of nothing, like you did with me "yelling" at you.
You got into a bout of depression because of your weight problems and your abusive boyfriend. But at least your family were supportive and got you to the right therapists and such. Though you dropped them after a week each time. My parents pressured me into stop taking my pills because they were ashamed of having a daughter who was a mental case. You're not supposed to stop taking pills when you're depressed. You're supposed to ease off of it. But I still stopped cold turkey. I was lucky that it didn't have a lasting effect on me and I don't think you should do it that way, but you know. At least make an effort to get better.
Not only that, you have a loving family who supports you when you're too tired to do things, even things that's helpful for you. You have a warm family who embraces you when you cry and tells you what a wonderful person you are and reassures you that things will be better. My parents told me to shut up because I was making a scene. They demanded to know what I had done that was so great that I deserved the privilege to cry. My father laughed at me and told me I was being hysterical. I remember one incident where my father threw a chair at me for crying (though it landed harmlessly on the floor in front of me).
Why am I comparing your life to mine which is obviously so much better since I'm not riddled with so many problems you are? Well, here's my point. When something bad happens to me, I muck about for a couple of days, then I move on. I do other things, get into things that make me happy, keep myself generally busy and distracted. I might think about it at night when there's nothing else to do and cry and these tearful nights might continue for a month or so, but I generally move out of my funk and put away the bad memory in the corner of my mind. I might sometimes take them out again and pore over it and what ifs on nights when I can't sleep and cry over them some more, but I more or less get over it. You just break into pieces and pick up another psychological issue for your collection. I'm not saying that your family should have been as unsympathetic to your plight as mine were; just that I have better coping mechanism than you do and maybe you should look into a better one yourself.
Your sister said that you don't deserve anything bad that happens to you. And you don't. No one usually does. But they're going to happen to you anyway. When that happens, you can choose to break into an immobile heap of uselessness, or you can shrug it off and move on with your life. And I know that it's tempting to just give in and break down. After all, your family is there to embrace you and reaffirm what a valuable human you are. But they're not going to be there forever and real world isn't going to embrace you like that. They'll leave you in the pile you fell into, and maybe even trample over you.
So I hope that you die before the last person to take care of you does. Not because I wish death on you, but because I don't think you'll ever be prepared to take on life without them, and I'd hate to see how you'd break when you have to.
On a final note; you apologized a thousand times while I was in your car. I am not going to forgive you, because I frankly think it's ridiculous to forgive you for that when what you did didn't even warrant an apology. Not even a normal one. What I wanted from you was not what you gave me, but a simple "I'll be more specific with the appointment details from now on". I just want to know where you're taking me and what we're going to do and when I need to be there and when I can come home. Just so I can plan my day around it. Is that really too much to ask?
The stunt you pulled in the car, though, that's a-whole-nother story. Because, like I said, what you did didn't require you to grovel at my feet and beg for forgiveness like you did. And I think you realized that. Why else would you not tell them what I said and what you did to make me say it when they asked? I think it's because you knew that you were being ridiculous, and saying what I said would be like admitting to it. I think you just decided to take that chance to play a victim once more so you could get people to tell you what an awesome person you are. I think you like your sister because she's a fairy god mother who takes care of you when you're down amongst other things like being your sister, and I think you like me because I'm the wicked witch who gives you the chance to play the fairytale princess. And I do like playing the wicked witch. Far better than a damsel in distress. But I'm tired of playing it for you, and if I'm right about you just liking playing the victim, I refuse to play along any more. If I'm wrong and you're actually THAT insecure, I doubt my presence would help out. I'm no good at holding in my anger, as you saw, and I don't think paying you attention and telling you what a good person you are is very helpful. And you have your family to do that for you already anyway. And they do. To the point that it would suffocate if I were in your shoes. But you seem to like that so, whatever floats your boat. Just don't rock mine anymore.
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From the holy sea of golden flames 
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