Sibling Rivalry

Brothers and sisters suck. We all know that and can admit it so easily. They take your stuff, play pranks, push all the wrong buttons and ALWAYS start the fight. While you’re innocently swimming in your own little sea, they come up like an angry, stupid and annoying shark and eat you up. Once, my brother was pulling hairs out my head and laughing at me – that was in a public shop – and my parents did nothing about it! Apparently it’s because he’s the “mature” one of us, but I seriously doubt he’s any more mature than a three-headed woodlouse. His addiction for Call Of Duty is off the limits and I hate it when he plays his songs sooo loud, or makes fun of my favourite T.V shows. He’s like a slithering, bothering, thundering snake – I’m sure many of you can relate to what I’m saying – and I can’t do anything to change him. His friends are like remote controls – they can change him from an annoying weirdo to an annoying “gangsta” weirdo.

But, when you think about it…

At least you have someone to talk to when nobody else will. Maybe if you’re on their good side, they’ll let you play their computer games or let you experiment with makeup. Maybe they will be on your side when your parents literally want to chop your phone up into one million and one pieces (probably not, but still). Maybe they’ll wave to you when they see you at school (my brother ususally just ignores me, or sometimes, if he can be bothered, he nods a tiny bit).

Yes, they mock you, and yes, they’re a right royal pain in ze backside, but without them, I guarantee that you wouldn’t be who YOU are today. I know that I wouldn’t be into music or have my very handy sarcasm. So I say thank you, and may the force be with you, siblings.

~ Aggigator xx



OK, we all know that girls have it rough, that’s undeniable. So many emotions, and we cannot control them; it’s not nice. One day is an entire bucket’s worth of feels, whether it be happy, sad or crazy. If you look closely enough, you might just be able to tell the difference of tears between girls and boys. Just a teensy difference.                                                                                                     So, girls, this one is dedicated to you. I think you deserve a bit of an escape from the monstrous, dramatic, killer hell which some people prefer to call “everyday life”. Enjoy with a mug of hot cocoa, fuzzy robe, freshly washed hair and a warm blanket (unless it’s Summer, in which case – don’t), read this warming message until you fall asleep on the sofa. Honey, when it comes to your life, you write the rules.

Imagine – in a few weeks it’s Christmas. Unwrapping your dream presents, fingers of dawn sliding through the curtains, the tree gleaming above your head and – the biscuits have gone! Christmastime is definitely the best. Snowmen are the best part. If we have any snow. You know, at first, I was literally addicted to my new presents. Once, when I got a Furby, I refused to do ANYTHING because my Furby was hungry, or if it was sleeping, I would tell everyone to keep it down. Man, I loved that Furby. But then one day… everyting became a bit boring. The Furby’s demands were just annoying. I read the book one million times and the perfume bottle was half empty. It all changed and I hated it. I hated myself for not appreciating “Santa’s” gifts anymore, I felt like I was an absolutely awful person and that I should lock myself in my room, zone out for 24 hours and try to get a relationship on Movie Star Planet. Yep, life was a bit tragic then. But then I discovered my love for writing diaries. I wrote: Dear Diary, I hate myself, I’m so mean! Why don’t I like my things? I’m becoming a moody tweenager. I’m becoming my brother. Great. And et cetera. I could really express myself through entries and poems and whatnot. I trusted my diary. So much horrible anger and hatred filled the page, but then once I got used to so much writing, it was a release from life and feels. I didn’t worry about it anymore, because I always had my diary.

But, then it got lost, so once again, I put my life into the interweb. A place of wonder. A place of joy. Aa place of miracles. A place where The Aggigator was born

Agata xx