Not me, her.
There are two sets of rules in my house. One for me, and one for the disabled kid. She can do whatever she likes. She can hurt me; physically and emotionally. But when I do, it’s the end of the world. Maybe if everyone stopped worrying about my sister and her condition, or how she dropped out of school, how she has a bad group of friends, or how she’s going nowhere in life, they could see what I’m going through. I cry myself to sleep at night, I cut, I’m on the edge of giving up. All you see is your one good child, who does well at school and has a future. I doubt for long I will. I just want you to notice.