Ignorance is Bliss* (* Restrictions may apply)

Isn't there some saying somewhere, that the thick and just completely-out-of-it person is better off then the smart and sensitive person, because they don't have to deal with such emotions and never know what their missing out on? Or something like that?



Well I have sudden respect for that quote. It appears that all is not perfect in Barbie World. I just read some of my sisters diary. And yes, I know that that is a completely stereotypical situation but I'm curious. I'm more curious about how she views me then her life, though. But today, that changed. Today I read that my sister has possibly been abused by my father, and that, to quote "A few months ago my family situation was pretty tough. My dad told me that if I reported what he did to me, there would be an investigation and that would tear the family apart. He scared me when he told me that, that I had the power to ruin my family."

Heavy stuff, huh? And the fact that kills me was that I was that idiot in the saying; I didn't have a clue that things were "tough" a few months ago. I mean, I knew that my parents have fought sometimes, and that my sister and dad's relationship isn't exactly happy, happy, joy, joy. But I didn't know that he hurt her physically. And the entry goes on to say that my mother didn't protect my sister, that my sister will never, ever forgive my father and that if she did report the abuse, my family would get a divorce, someone would move out, money would be tight and a whole bunch of other tough, annoyingly stereotypical situations would occur.

10 minutes ago I thought my family was reasonably okay, apart from my father and sister having a rocky relationship and some minor financial issues. But apparently I'm wrong. Dead wrong. And its eating me alive that I didn't notice; any of this. I didn't notice a single thing, and its killing me. I mean, I know I'm a cynical and sarcastic little girl, but despite what it may seem, I do care for my family. And the only thing I'm thinking right now is "How did I not see that?" and taking this new information and applying it to past situations.

I don't know what to do. I feel like I'm in Plato's temple, clinging to these false images of perfection. Now my reality has shattered, and inside I feel like this little quivering mess of flesh. (Pardon my theatrics, but this really is quite the "news flash" to me.) Any minute now I'm sure the rage will come, I'm sure that I'll be emotionally unstable for another hour. I'll probably be mad at my father for doing this, and my sister for not reporting this and my mother for not standing up to my father and myself for not noticing and then just the whole damn world, knowing me.

But right now, I'm just mad that I've fallen into this totally stereotypical plot line. I can usually predict a books plot from the first few chapters on, and I have about a 83% consistency rate between my theory and the actual plot. I've read tons of books, so I can guess whose actually a prince in disguise, whose bulimic and whose crushing on the main character's brother. So the fact that I've fallen into this situation that wouldn't be out of place in the Teen Angst/Hurt section at my local library is annoying me to no end. The situation is just so close to one of those books, I'm almost scared. We have the naive, cynical little sister who's a closet suicidal and has no friends, we have the plastic perfect older sister, whose popular and has friends and crushes and secrets but gets abused by her father and keeps it inside (not so much with my sister, some of her closer friends know), we have the artistic and just flat-out awesome mom, but she's weak when it comes to standing up to her husband and protecting her daughter, and then we have my dad: slightly overweight (he's not 200 lbs. , but he's not exactly skinny either. Which is why he's dieting, and thats just adding to his stress factor), a phycologist (generally, he has to listen to people whine all day, which makes for depressing stuff) and gone most of the day except for dinner and the weekends.

If thats not the exact plot line for over 15 teen novels, I don't know what is. But I guess stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason. Oh, and you know what else? Despite my 83% consistency rate, I can't figure out how this drama will end. But now it all makes sense in some horrible way; my sisters relationship with my dad, the nights that I hear her crying and the more often nights when she just listens to her iPod for hours, to "escape" in a sense. The way that she's so close to her YMCA friends, and why she calls them her "family". Its because her real family is so messed up that she wants to have a fake, perfect one that goes with her outer self.

This all feels somewhat surreal, like I'm just reading another book and acting like I'm the main character. (I do that sometimes) But this isn't another book, Its my life. And right now I can only hope for a happy ending. But if this were a teen novel (which is seeming more and more likely, that I'm some teenage goddess's source of hormonal amusement.), this is the part where I call my best friend and cry my heart out, and she comes over with my favorite movie and snack.

Except I don't have any friends.

Joy to the world, and massacre...