hurt

If some people can have 6 children and have all of them grow up well adjusted and loved, why is it that my parents seem to have run out of love after only 2.5 kids?

Each parent is only capable of loving one of us wholeheartedly. They have just a little left over for the other 2. My mother chose Anthea, and my father chose Kimberly. I just got left behind somewhere. Funnily enough, I got there first.

Today I went to JB with my aunt. We discussed favoritism over lunch, and she laughed about how Mama always liked some of them more. There were ranks, she said. However, now that I think about it, Mama may have liked some of them more, but she still had space in her heart for more than one favourite. I just don't see why my parents can only cope with one.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not accusing anyone of neglecting me. Sure, I am hardly hungry, my education has been paid for, and I am worried for (once in a blue moon, when I actually give them something to worry about). However, I can't help but get the sickening feeling that any concern is purely out of duty. Why is it that everytime I try to say something to my mother she doesn't answer back nicely, and is sometimes sarcastic? How come when I was little she told me that if I were someone else's daughter, she wouldn't love me at all? Why is it that my father gets defensive when I suggest sharing food with either of my sisters? (That gets suggested when we're all not that hungry, duh. I'm not trying to steal anybody's food! My gosh.)

Okay. Get this.

I'm not depressed. I may be a little tired today, but I came home quite happy. So why the rant? Let me tell you. This is what happens when you dislike one of your own for no good reason. The hurt gets in so deep that everytime something small happens, your child will break down. Not that you'd know. You'd be sleeping, or tutoring some other kid, or driving your students around because they are apparently pitiful (and you never want to fetch me anywhere), or on the computer (and when something goes wrong with that machine all fingers point to me), or whatever it is that keeps you busy.

Sometimes one of you will cry in front of us kids and expect sympathy. Okay well, I'll try, but it's a little hard to do so when all the things I've said that saddened you, all the things about you being unfair, they are fact. And more so because hey, I also cry you know. I just do it in private and I don't try to milk people's sympathy. Besides, you wouldn't be crying if the things I said were untrue, right? And the worst part is, after that you go back to your usual ways.

So. Back to today.

I tried to shower but our domestic helper Yanti was bathing too so the water pressure was too low for the showerhead to work at all. So I asked for anyone out there listening to me to ask whoever was using the water to turn it down a bit so we both can bathe, but no answer. For a very long time. Finally, I gave up, put on a towel and went out to ask, again. (In this house you have to yell to get your point across. MANY TIMES.) My father said something hurtful. And my mother finally, finally, asked Yanti softly and politely if she's just started bathing.

Hey no, it's not bad to talk to Yanti politely. Out of everybody in this house, I can communicate with her best of all, okay? It's just that it's so unlike the way my mother speaks to me.

If they can think about fairness to everyone else, why not to their own kids?

See, small thing, big drama in my head.

I know, I know. I just can't get around it. Everyday, this sort of thing happens.

Here's a depressing thought for me: What if my sisters had never been born? Is it possible that I'm so unlovable for my parents that they will still not like me? In that case it can't be said that it's because they are nicer kids that my parents love them, but simply that I am a horrible, repulsive one. You know, before my youngest sister was born, my father's favourite used to be my middle sister? So then, both my parents favoured her? Oh yes, all the uncles and aunties like her better too. Here's what I think are keeping my parents together: Their religion, and the happy distraction of their favourite kids.

Nobody likes me. ):