God, I hate her with every single point of my body. I hope that one time I will get her alone as my parents are coming home I will be able to feel free to do anything I want to do to her. I will look back and think about the time that she ate her own shit in front of me showing me accidentally by leaving the bathroom door open, or that time when (OH WAIT, ITS EVERY FUCKING DAY OF MY MENTALLY TORTURED LIFE) she fucking leaves her god damn SHIT EVERYWHERE IN THE BATHROOM. HER FUCKING FECES IS SPEWED ABOUT, IN A ROOM THAT A HOUSE HAS THAT IS SUPPOSED TO BRING A FEELING OF UTMOST CERTAINTY THAT YOU ARE ALONE AND WELL, QUITE FRANKLY THE SMELL ITSELF IS ENOUGH TO MAKE ME VOMIT. Every time I go in that shit hell of a room I want to escape I want OUT when I have to shower (which quite frankly I haven’t in 4 weeks, 4 FUCKING WEEKS, THAT IS SO UNHIGENIC AND DISGUSTING AND VULGAR AND MAKES ME SAD THAT I HAVE TO EVEN LIVE) I go in with a rag and wipe out all the SHIT CRUMBS. So when I think back to those things and all the traumatic mentally unsafe things that have happened to me I get FURIOUS. I GET FURIOUS THAT IM LIVING WITH A FURRY NIGHTCORE LISTENER THAT EATS HER OWN SHIT AND SPREADS IT AROUND FOR FUN. I GET FURIOUS THAT WHEN I HEAR HER PRESENCE I WANT TO TAKE A SHOTGUN, PUT IT IN HER MOUTH AND PULL THE TRIGGER. I wanted a life that didn’t give me this abomination of life itself as a sister, or at least someone else as a sibling. But wait. Back to when I have her alone. I want to have an assortment of things she hates and turn them all into some sort of torture device. I want to take a small obsidian blade and slice her legs up, c u t b y c u t. I want to take a sledgehammer and slam it into her tied up fingers then slowly move up her arm and then switch to her other arm, slowly pulverizing her entire being. I then want to leave her there, in the sun, covered in honey, waiting for the time when the ants find her and burrow inside her honey covered, barley alive, carcass, and make her ITCH. I want her to itch so bad that her every instinct is saying for her to I T C H. Then, at the last moment of her fleeting seconds, I want to look her in the eyes and say exactly this “I love you” to give her the most fucked up feeling and make her barely functioning brain confused as it gets blown into hell by the last shotgun blast that blew her life away.