I did everyone a favor.

Hi. I’m sorry for this being a wall of text, but I’m in no shape to format things. I need to get this out. I promise it’s not a normal vent. I’ve never written in this sub before but I thought the user might appreciate my response. So, I had a little sister named Alexia. She was three years younger than me. She was born prematurely and struggled with things her entire life. She was autistic, had to have a tablet for school, and would moan, groan, shriek, these horrible things. We didn’t know she was autistic until she was two. I was five when she was born, and we were only these ages when all of this occurred. My parents were on the fence about keeping her, but they decided to. After that, I was pushed aside. <br><br>I’m not saying that I don’t love my sister, I do, but it hurts being ignored. She was very clingy, and would choke me so she could breathe on me. She would grab my face and squeeze. I had to be moved into my mother’s room because she would always come into the room I shared with her, and I would wake up with her on top of me. I started getting migraines. I couldn’t sleep. I would get angry with her and go belt her with my hand. So I started spending all of my time outside. When you’re stuck in a room three times smaller than the one you normally sleep in because you need to get away from the autistic menace you call a sister, you’re going to get very desperate. <br><br>I know that’s not an excuse. She was also very constipated. She couldn’t use the bathroom so she would shit the bed. Days when it was bad, her and I were left home with daddy because mommy was going out. She had to be bathed, and she would claw me, these three inch scratches. I couldn’t bathe myself, let alone bathe her. I was five. So then she fell sick. She had an ear infection and was running a fever. We were all gonna go to the hospital, and I didn’t want to go. I was sick of these three hour drives. I was sick of her. I begged not to go, pleaded, cried. They said I didn’t have a choice and put me in the car. <br><br>I was sick of her. I didn’t want her going with us. I didn’t want her coming home. I started to fantasize. I imagined myself leaving the car and turning around to see it crash. I saw an image in my mind of the car hitting a tree going sixty miles an hour, and I felt something warm in the pit of my stomach. I felt like I wanted it to happen. I didn’t know these were things you couldn’t admit. I thought everyone fantasized about their siblings dying. I started to dream about it. I would go to sleep and dream about things happening to her, and I would wake up happy. <br><br>I still was angry with her though. One time, she grabbed my face and held me down, and she took my tablet. She threw it in the tub. Days later, mommy and daddy took us to the store. I picked up a rock, and I saw her playing behind me. I turned to throw the rock and she was right next to me. It hit her in the head. She went down and started shrieking, and my parents were mad at me. They thought I did it intentionally. I didn’t want to tell them about the things I was thinking about her. They knew I hit her, but if they knew I wanted her dead, they would have hated me. <br><br>That night, I went to bed thinking about all the things I would do to her, and the next morning I got woken up to the sound of cars pulling up. I saw an ambulance outside. I asked my mom what was happening, and she told me that Alexia had come down with a fever and was throwing up blood. She died at the hospital. I felt this wave of guilt when my parents came to tell me the news. They started crying and wailing, and my mom fell to the ground, and my dad screamed at me and asked me to grab her. I was only eight. I didn’t know what was happening. <br><br>I was sent to live with my aunt for the next few days, and when I got home, they were different. They would speak ill of my sister and then they would break down crying. They said it was my fault. They said I killed her. I didn’t understand what they meant. I didn’t kill her, I just hit her with a rock, and she died a week later. They said it was my fault she got sick. They said she would have lived if it weren’t for my birthday. They said it was my fault she died. I didn’t understand. They sent me to therapy, and I told them the truth. I told them I wanted her to die. <br><br>They sent me to a different doctor. One for crazy people. I was diagnosed with something, and the doctor explained to my parents that I was not in control of my actions. He explained that I was sick, and that it wasn’t my fault, and my mom started crying and my dad cursed at the doctor. So, this is it. This is my life. I was sick, these things I couldn’t help. I was a terrible sister because of them. She’s dead, and I’m to blame. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to do. I was sick, and I got what I wanted. I hate myself. I hate everyone. I was sick, everyone says that. But I don’t feel sick. I feel normal. I feel like I’m me, and that the problem’s everyone else.