Broken

It´s just to much pain for me to take.

I´m such a big girl, such an adult, I can cope with anything. Can´t I?

I look at both of you, at what you have created, and know, deep down, that I will never end up like you. I don´t blame you in the slightest. If you are unhappy, change it. I would.
And then I think about the changes. Even at this age, a divorce would make me crumble. I will no longer have a base, but a few scattered fragments. It´s such a scary thought.
All the nasty words screamed in each others faces will fade away, you will live a new life, always with old memories just around the corner, but you will both move on. We can cope, can´t we?
No longer will we have to ignore the unhappiness, or the shouting, or the tears. It will all end.
And I will grow up never wanting to marry, or commit. Never wanting to make the same mistakes you did. I will turn away as soon as I can, and flee at the merest hint of a life like yours. I won´t blame you.
You are so unhappy it hurts me. You argue, and then you don´t, you think it is better, that the problems have faded. But then you argue again. And it´s back to square one.
And now, I´ll lie, and put on a fake smile, and tell my sister it will all work out for the best. I´ll confort her because it´s me she turns to for reasurance. Because I known. Because I can handle it.
And I will cry myself to sleep every night, because it´s all I can do.

So, go on.
Do it.
Solve it.

Make the happiness come back, because I can´t.