The local psychologist.

Have you ever had to listen to your brother or sister talk shit about your parents. Or maybe it was your mum who told you that she has enough of you fathers opinions. Maybe it was your dad saying something mean about your sibling. 

Well, if so how often does that happen? 

Once? Twice? A month ? 

How about every single day ? 

Well, if so then welcome to the club of local psychologists. 

I don’t know what it is about me.  Am I so dam quiet that they just have to fill the empty coversation holes, with their thoughts that seem to build up over the hours they spend with each other.  Or maybe it’s because I give good advice.  

… then again they never listen … so that one’s out. 

Maybe I’m just the one they trust. Or maybe I’m just always there. Maybe I’m invisible and while I’m listening they think they’re talking to the air. 

Well, whatever it is, I hate it. 

It’s not like I  don’t want to hear them out. Or help them. Or be there for them. But at the same time, if I would be paid for every car drive alone with my dad, or every phone call with my mum, or the random talk with my dear brother, then I would be a millionaire already. 

The thing is that I get caught in the very freaking middle of this. In between of the names, opinions and angry glares. 

Listening to how my brother doesn’t even care about our’s dad’s talk is making my stomach ache. As much as I love our dad, my brother is right. But hearing it makes me tare slightly because I have such a good connection with him. It’s like as if one of your best friends gave out about the other behind their back to you. Like what are you supposed to do with such info. 

Then you have my dad who gives out about my brother. However, he just gets so frustrated that his emotions run at 200km/h and if they could, they would make him fly away into the space. But the thing is that it is slightly his fault.  Not my brothers behaviour. By getting so cough up in it causes him to build up his nerves and then releasing them wherever he sees a living soul. 

I guess it comes down to : if my dad would care a little less and  my brother try a little more it would be so much better. But who the F listens to me? 

And then you have my mum. Who will cry(literally) about both of them. And it’s me who always has to wipe her tears. 

And it’s annoying. 

Seriously it’s like they use me as their shrink all the time. Laying their troubles on top of me like I have not enough of my own. 

Two days ago my mum asked me about college. And I tried to be gentle.  But that didn’t matter. None of what I want does. So I ended up with opening up. For the first time ever – about college. We got into a fight. And of course tears were spilled.  

Because I was the one to say what’s on my mind.

You see as much as I try to converse, or offer advice to my “clients”, they don’t listen. 

… while I do …


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