baa, ram, ewe
19 September 2015 - 14:31I'm at my sister's house right now, and I don't want to be. Kids are watching "Babe" right now. It's distracting me.
I can't help feeling out of place here. I've never liked this house. It used to be her inlaws's house, before they became her inlaws. I never seem to agree with my sister's choice of men. Ever since we were teenagers, and she got her first "boyfriend". His name was Agustin, but my nickname for him was Disgustin. I felt he was using her, but she never saw it. In the end, things didn't work out, and my sister cried a lot. She became bulemic. I don't really blame Agustin for it, but it cemented the notion in my mind that I'd at least been right about the bastard all along.
I'm the younger of us, but I always saw myself more as the older brother. I have a deep-rooted need to protect her and my mom since my parents split. I remember being around five years old the day I decided to become the man of the house. Other than being alone without a father figure, there was nothing remarkable about that day. We lived in a tiny three-room house: a kitchen, living room which also served as my sister's and my bedroom, and the main bedroom where my parents used to sleep, but now my mother slept in alone. It was a quiet day. I was sitting on the floor of the living/bedroom, playing with my stuffed toys, my Guys, I called them. I don't know what my sister and mom were doing. Maybe watching TV, I don't know. I felt sad, lonely. Seeing my mother and sister in the other room, I felt they were sad and lonely, too. My sister had always been Daddy's Little Girl. His Reinita, my mom called her, his Little Queen. I felt that she, more than anyone, needed protection. So I made up my mind to do it. I couldn't be her father, or a husband to my mother, so I decided that the next best thing to be was the older brother. I would take my father's place as protector, as the man of the house. Looking back, I think that is when my inner Protector was born. My Piojo. But that's for a discussion on my other diary. Before I move on to another topic though, I'll add that Piojo was never born. (He wants me to clarify.) He was just awakened.
I think sometimes I take this role a bit too seriously. Like now. I try to stay out of my sister's relationships, but it's hard for me to do. I cast my own dreams aside, my aspirations, to do what I feel is best for my family, rather than what is best for me. I want to travel, life abroad, but I would never leave Mom. I want to move out into a small studio apartment, be independent, but won't leave Mom alone with the mortgage. And I shut my mouth about the desicions my sister makes in regards to her kids and her own life, 'cause it's her life, dammit, but I don't always agree. I didn't want her to marry Alexis because he's an asshole. He was a terrible husband who nearly drove her to suicide and landed her in a psyche ward, and he's an even worse father. I was glad when the divorce was finalized, but tried not to gloat about it. Now she's married to Omar, and I don't agree to this marriage either. I mean, granted, it is a step up from Alexis, but that doesn't keep Omar from being a masogyonistic mamma's boy who favors his kids over my sister's. Hell, my sister now favors his kids over her own. I hate being here and having that rubbed in my face, having to hold my tongue.
My escape here? Cooking, baking. It gives me something to do, keep my mind occupied. And creating something eases my restlesness. Better get to it.