That one.

So there's this thing, its called a black sheep, and almost every family is supposed to have one. The one that is different from the rest, the one that doesn't listen and recieves minor attention.
All this time I thought I was safe from being that member of the flock, since I was doing the right things. I thought to myself that the odd one is definately my younger sister, the outrageously rebellious child she is. But all this time, it was actually me. And I hate myself for letting me become that person.
Useless effort.