I am going to go through like a pack of cigs just trying to get this all out.
Today was a good day.
I will start off by saying my sister is 16 years my younger.
My sister, since hitting puberty 6 or 7 months ago, has been afflicted with a yet unidentified mental disorder. She has panic attacks that frightens our Mother, which is quite the task considering the bumps and bruises I incurred in my childhood. I remember the time I fell from a great height in a brick yard of an abandoned air conditioning factory. We (as children) never understood why they had so many bricks in their yard, but we couldn't have cared less as we took bricks and mud to make a fort. I was the one who built the tower, I was the one who walked across the old decayed wooden board to get to the roof of the building and I was the one who went tumbling down.
The look on my Mother's face when she saw me, covered in blood and unable to stand from my concussion, was a jarring and almost spiritual moment. From that point on my Mother and I were bonded. I knew for certain that she only cared for me and that my safety was so much a concern to her that she openly wept upon seeing me. She feared from all the blood that there was something horribly wrong. I remember being terrified, not of dying but of getting stitches. As an adult I can look back at that as a defining moment. I learned to be strong, to accept pain, to move forward and to be more than I am if only for the sake of my family. Almost 7 years later I would be mountain biking in the Colorado mountains. On the Zig Zag I would be tossed from my bike when the man in front of me wiped out. I was lucky, as where I was thrown from my bike was near a very steep cliff and I manged to be thrown into the hill versus the valley below. As I rode in the ambulance down the hill I contemplated on how damaged my helmet was and how I was lucky to have not fallen to my death. My left arm was torn from its socket, several surgeries were required to even make my left arm usable again. To this day my left arm lacks 20-30% of the mobility of my right and putting on a tie causes a fair amount of discomfort. By the time I hit 18, I had broken 13 bones (not including fingers and toes) and had over 300 stitches (not counting my surgeries).
My Mother stoically stood by my side and held my hand as they scrubbed every piece of dirt from my wounds. She feed me gram crackers and ginger ale when I woke from surgery and she checked on me every hour on the hour when I laid in my bed, unable to move and crippled with pain. She is one of the strongest women I know and is equipped with a heart greater than I could hope to posses. So when I tell you that the woman is taxed to a point of break down over my sister I want you to understand my full meaning.
When my sister was born, she was a blessing. A hard pregnancy in which she was almost lost several times. My sister is a beautiful, creative and brilliant girl. A published and venerated poet at 9 and skilled with art and creativity in general and she continues to break even my impressive academic records. I often feel as I assume Simon Tam must feel when River was born and I enjoy the same elation at her existence.
So to find that my adorable and talented sister can not leave her room, and further more her closet any more for fear of the outside world, which from day to day are normal humans or ultra violent mongrels who wish to kill her in the most brutal of matters I find myself lost and stressed.
Today, for the first time in months, I saw my little sister again as she was before this affliction.
Not only did she beat me, for the first time, in mini golf she did it by 7 strokes (37 to 44 with the average par of 54). She laughed and played. Spent a good amount of time trying to bother me via my own personal idiosyncrasies, she even got me with a double wet willy without me even realizing it (a feat to be sure!). For the first time in months she went to sleep immediately and in her own bed. We didn't just have fun, we connected. Though every program she is in tells her not to bully and to accept bullies because they are dealing with a bad home life, we connected on the fact that bullies can go fuck themselves. I told her that dealing with bullies by ignoring them is the morally correct and efficient way, but I also told her about my time in school. I was bullied upon entering high school but not for long. Bullies wont stop talking shit about you regardless of your own interaction with them, but they wont say it to your face after a pop in the mouth. We spent some time on wrestling moves, how to punch and I even taught her a few... shady moves?
I dont think violence is always wrong but it is often not the correct action and I feel that an intellectually superior person should be able to use other methods to solve their problems. That being said, some times a good old fashion beating is the only thing that will set some people strait. I know that some bullies are dealing with some real shit but they at least have a grasp on reality, though the horrid and morbid aspects of it. However, I don't care and I am steadfast in being unapologetic about it. I am against abuse, physical or emotional and have been close to arrest on several occasions for beating the ass of men who would hit a woman in my presence. I have been taught from a young age that it is in no way ever appropriate to hit a woman. That being said, I don't care what "Jimmy's" home life looks like. He has to deal with the harsh realities of life a little earlier than everyone else, boo fucking hoo. At least he knows what is fucking real and what isn't.
The biggest point of contention between the doctors and my sister is the fact that she not only wants, but expects (and would create) the zombie apocalypse (as most of her hallucinations center around brain consuming zombies and horrifically brutal deaths at their hands.)
Sadly, when I asked her why she thought the zombie apocalypse (something I myself have even looked forward to) should happen she said, "Because mankind deserves it" and I found myself at a complete lack of ability to argue her point as wrong. We do deserve it and much worse. Sadly, she spends most of her week locked up for thoughts I consider common and justifiable.