My youngest sister is about to go to a mall type shopping center with her friends. She is more girl than I ever was. She wears makeup, cares about her hair, and will probably end up getting married when she gets older. In other words, she will be normal.
I don't know what compelled me to ask her the following question:
"So are you and your friends going to stop into the Borders? Look at some books?"
"I'm kidding. I know that's not the cool thing kids do. Only dipshits like your older sister did things like that as a teenager."
It's true. I never had any friends when I was her age. I had books. Books were my companions. Funny how some things don't ever seem to change.
What the hell is wrong with me? I have no business trying to tell my sister (in code no less) that I think she doesn't read enough. So what? I read plenty and look at what it's gotten me. I'm 31, alone, living with my mother due to unemployment, and replete with my loserdom.
I'm a terrible sister.
I'm going to lock myself up in the room, drink the rest of my beer, and watch some Twilight Zone episodes.