I am exhausted, you know. Can you even begin to understand how much pressure I am under right now? How much I have to carry along Every. Single. Damn. Day? It’s a lot. A whole hell of a lot. And I couldn’t put it down even if I was able to try.
And I know it’s your damned fault. Momma wouldn’t dare say anything–because she loves us and i know she never told you ’bout any of my mistakes, but I’m not stupid and I’m very sure that one plus one plus one is three. Your troubles drained the family savings. Your troubles are why you aren’t legally allowed to do a whole section of the things that Momma has to ask me to do. Your troubles have put an awful lot of underlying strange on this family. This work–all this work–could be so much easier. But for your troubles.
So, I love you, little Sister. But I couldn’t give a flying fuck about your current troubles. For once in your life, take care of your damn self.