Golden Brother Spent My Money On His Party. And Hired Guards To Block Me....... Rddit Tale Tide

Описание: My golden-boy brother blew my money on his big party and even hired security guards to keep me from coming inside. When I showed up anyway, he looked me in the eye and said I wasn’t family.

Hey Reddit. I’m a 25-year-old guy, and I’ve just been reminded of a brutal truth: when you give too much for too long and finally ask for the bare minimum of respect, your own blood will stomp on you. This isn’t me fishing for pity. This is me laying out what it feels like to be used as nothing more than a bank account, while my younger brother Frank, who’s 22, is praised like he’s God’s gift to humanity just for existing.

Let me back up a little so you understand I’m not exaggerating. My family has played favorites since Frank was old enough to demand a new Xbox and get it instantly. I was always branded “the responsible one.” What that really meant was: work hard, shoulder all the duties, and don’t expect a thing in return.

Here’s one example. On my 18th birthday, my parents told me I had to start paying rent—$350 a month—for the same childhood room I’d always had. Same squeaky old bed, same faded wallpaper from when I was twelve. Either pay up or leave, they said. So I paid. At the time, I was working part-time at a tire shop while juggling school, but I kept my head down and made it work.

Now fast forward to when Frank turned 18. Instead of charging him a dime, my parents actually gave him my old room after I left. They even gifted him a brand-new flat-screen TV. The excuse? “He’s still figuring out his life.” And what did that look like? Sleeping until noon and livestreaming Fortnite for nine hours straight.

One day when I stopped by, he was wearing my hoodie—the one I’d been hunting for since Thanksgiving. I told him, “Hey, that’s mine.” His response? “Well, you don’t live here anymore.” I turned to my mom, expecting some fairness, but she just shrugged and said, “If it was that important, you shouldn’t have left it behind.” That was the standard response in my house.

By 21, I had enough. I moved out, found solid work in logistics, kept my expenses low, and started saving aggressively. Life was finally turning upward. But as soon as I got stable, my parents started blowing up my phone. Suddenly they needed help—money for groceries, money for utility bills, money for car repairs. And the refrain was always the same: “Frank’s struggling, you know. We’ve always done so much for you, and now it’s your turn to help us.”

Like a fool, I gave in. I set up automatic transfers to cover Frank’s rent—$750 a month—for three years straight. On top of that, I forked over more than $3,000 every single semester for his textbooks and tuition.





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