May 7, 2021:
She habitually asked, "Are you sick of me yet? Are you sick of me yet? Are you sick of me yet?"
It was charming, and self-deprecating, and deeply manipulative.
Eventually the answer became, "Yes", but that was decades after our final contact, postdating the intervention of year after year of the traumas and addictions and breakdowns which people call "life lessons".
I regret it wasn't sooner. That's neither nice nor generous, but it's real.
She goes through life doing harm. To the people close to her, naturally most of all. Her sister first and foremost. Me, on the list, somewhere. I don't know where I rank on her collection of walking corpses. Only that the lessons were far too long in coming.