She glared at me, as if she wanted to tear my mouth off. But I went to my room, found a notebook and handed it to my aunt.
I smiled as I explained, "Mom, you said I'm petty and calculating, didn't you? You're right—I really am good at keeping score."
I was petty since my mother favored my sister over me and I felt wronged. But I did not say it—I silently jotted it down in my notebook.
My mother was my primary subject of observation.
What she gave my sister versus what she gave me; what she gave my aunt versus what she gave my other aunt.
Everything I saw or heard, I recorded.
I realized my mother prioritized people.
With my sister, she seemed to pour all her love into her first. Only when there was overflow did she give me what was left.
The more she did this, the more I compared myself to my sister.
Sometimes, I even felt like I was becoming twisted.
But as long as I was away from my mother, I was completely normal. My mother was the abnormal one.
She had a clear hierarchy of who she prioritized. She has a scale in her mind for who to treat better.
As a result, my aunt’s expression grew increasingly grim.