My family likes to argue. I really don't know why but we argue all the time. It's fun and invigorating but sometimes it's boring and just plain stressful. Especially since we follow a way of arguing. Each of us has a role we play and we do it to a tee. I'll detail them below but please know that names have been changed to preserve privacy. Thanks.
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Mom: Her's is simple. She'll batter away at your arguments as if they hold no regard and when you keep up with them it's suddenly become her fault. Oh, you hate the way she's always treating you ever so carefully? "So, now it's my fault." You don't under stand what she's saying? "Of course, it's my fault." Simple, but sad. And tiring.288Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxGdegQ9tyl
Dad: He argues relentlessly and in such a way, you feel as if your opinions are wrong. So you back down. Kind of a commanding force with a lot of feel. And logic. I have to admire his way of arguing.
Baxter: Brother number one. Sigh. He argues like every opinion but his own is wrong. He basically makes it so that you feel as if he regards your opinion as dirt. Pure and uncleansed dirt.
Dill: He argues literally the same. It's like a map. Or a rulebook. Rule #1: Point out that everyone hates you. Rule #2: Make sure they know you have no friends. Rule #3: Contradict what you just said about having no friends. Rule #4: Raise your voice and start crying. Rule #5: Take whatever they said and twist it so it's against you. Ex:288Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFuELCOHLfR
Me: Maybe if you'd just put a little effort into it.
Him: Right. Cause I don't put effort into it.
Me: God, just leave me alone. I'm not in a good enough mood for this.
Him: Right. I'll just hide in my room and only come out for food and water and the occasional bathroom break. Because you're not in a good enough mood *storms away*
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Me? I like to you what they say to show them how it's hypocritical. I mean, seriously. Baxter is always asking me to take out the trash because I forget all the time. I asked him why we had to ask him to give us his music (which he makes online) and he replied with "why do I always have to ask you to take the trash out". I said he didn't. Did he listen? No.
Or when Dill runs into a table and it's.................................................. I run into a table and it becomes "Oh, are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? Want to sit down?" WHAT THE HECK? Equality, my friends!
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Sigh. Signing off, Di.
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