Family

My parents dwell on my sister.  She's dead.  I know.  It's horrible.  But!  All the awful things I've gone through in my 21 years of life, if nothing else, equals this.  They lost one of their daughters, but have one left.  I lost my one and only sister.  I have no other siblings.  Why can't they be grateful for me instead of fixated on her?  Especially since I came so close to death so many times.  If I hadn't gotten scared and told them about all the pills I had taken, if suddenly stopping all 13 meds I was on at the time had killed me, if the seizure I had when my head smashed through a glass shower door and my convulsing neck was resting on what glass remained in the door, the innumerable times my head slammed down onto a tiled floor with nothing to break its fall.  Any of these could have killed me, many times over, and there are more I didn't list.  If these had indeed taken my life then they would have no children instead of just one.  Death has brushed by me many times.  The darkness of his cloak enveloping me slightly then releasing me.  Over time these seemingly regular occurrences began to somehow reduce and sooth the fear I had of my own death.  Back to the original topic.  After all these times I've come so close to dying I'd think gratitude would be present in my parent's mind.  Perhaps it is.  All I can say for sure is that they don't show it.  They have one daughter left.  They should treasure her, but they don't.  They shouldn't alienate her, but they are.  They should listen to her, but they don't.  What am I to them?  A painful reminder of my sister?  A disposable piece that can be sent away?  Well, at this rate, it won't matter.  Because I won't be treated this way.  By anyone.  Even if that means I have to cut them out of my life.  I have to do what's best for me.  I'm tired of being miserable and being treated so horribly.  I'm not going to take it from anyone, if goodbye forever comes soon...so be it.