Friends, Neighbors and the Psychotherapist

Friends, Neighbors and the Psychotherapist "God, Anne, you make me feel like shit when you put it that way," Kate's voice is tense. "You know when we were in high school, many nights I'd pray that you'd wake up bigger than a house or become infected with some hideous skin condition covering your face with blotches and bumps. But it never happened You have no idea how difficult it is being Annie Bliss's younger sister..." I lie here now, reflecting on Kate's grating words and taking stock of my 27 years of life. Voted most likely? What have I done that's so extraordinary? What do I have? My sister has me on some unwarranted pedestal. Unwarranted and certainly not enviable because I don't: 1. have earth-shattering sex 2. or even have a boyfriend for that matter. 3. have a roommate to confide in since she's now married and in South America. 4. own any real estate, or prized possessions other than my faux-diamond homecoming crown. Well, dad did give me a teeny pair of authentic diamond earrings, but I lost one and never mustered up the courage to tell him. So my only real asset is incomplete. Now onto what I do have. I have: 1. a monotonous job. 2. a cramped apartment. 3. divorcing parents. 4. a sponge for a sister. Wait, I should be focusing on good things, right? Let's try this again. I have: 1. wonderfully supportive parents. 2. two best friends whom I trust with my heart and soul. 3. kind co-workers. 4. lest I forget, my health. My health is good, despite the fainting thing and occasional stomachaches.