You distinctly remember the exact moment your "Youngest Child" crown was ripped away from you. At first, you were in shock.
But soon, things got ugly.
Your older brother got the new clothes because your parents loved him more.
You got the hand-me-downs.
And your younger brother got new clothes, because your parents loved him more. When you complained about it, you were just told, "Life isn't fair." As if you needed the reminder.
Ah, Jan Brady. The mascot of middle children everywhere.
What's that? You forgot about Jan? Yeah. We know.
On the bright side, being the middle child often meant that you could get away with more than your siblings could. You know, because everyone forgot that you even existed.
Middle children often take on the role of the peacemaker, trying to unite their siblings for a common goal. Which is all well and good, until the common goal is "beat up the middle child."
"No, it's cool. I'm just over here learning to drive and building a magazine empire from scratch. But please, tell me more about how cool my older sister is."
As soon as your older sister was old enough for her own room, it was time to welcome in your new roommate: your little sister!
And then you had a college roommate.
And then you moved in with your boyfriend.
And then you got married.
Long story short: You never got your own room and you're not really "over it" yet.
True story: I lived in a walk-in closet for two years when I was a teen. Because who needs windows when you can have privacy?
Not that it mattered, because you were never as good as your older sibling or as cute as your younger sibling.
"Don't forget about meeeee!"
...Or, you know, that you were even born at all. Not that you're bitter or anything. You're used to the struggles of being the middle child.
Your parents: "Get it? It's so clever! And definitely what we were planning on doing all along because we did not forget your birthday even a little bit."
You: *Eyeroll that you have perfected over 17 years of being the middle child*
...Including selling out your siblings' souls to get some of that sweet Turkish Delight.
Admit it: your entire diary was filled with lists just like this one.