In Which, I Would Like To Go Home


No, not this home. This is no longer my home. It hasn’t been my home for months now. It is just the place that I stay at night while I wait for September to come. Even as I write this it is brought to my attention how much I despise living with your. For once, you don’t have your music blasting through your speakers to the level in which I can no longer think straight. To where I’m yelling at my mom because your music is drilling its way through my ear canal and I cannot listen to both her talking and your music and stay sane. For once, I don’t have to deal with that torture. On the other hand, I do have to listen to your obnoxious cackling while you’re on the phone with God knows who. Or maybe you’re watching another one of your Television shows that your wrap yourself into. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, it keeps you away from me. It’d be nice if you’d stay quiet though, like I try to do.

Do you want to know how it all started? I can tell you the exact moment. Well, the exact two moments when I realized I could not stand living with you…

  • You promised me I could have the larger room, because we both know that I have more stuff… and while I sit here in my cluttered little room with no where to put my belongings because my closet is already full, you get to keep your room nice and clean with the little that you have taking up its space.


I did not get the larger of the two rooms. Not at all. Why you ask? Because after months of being told I could have the bigger room if they were not the same size, upon arrival you, you decided you could not bare to have the smaller room. That you would be angry if you had to accept it as yours. So what did I do? To avoid confrontation, although I shouldn’t have, I agreed to rock-paper-scissor it out and see who would “win” the larger room. As you claimed you would lose, I knew for a fact you wouldn’t, because that’s how life works. I was promised something and as soon as there was a hint that it would be taken away, it was. That is the first reason, and I assure you, it is not a small one.

  • After saying how much you wanted your own privacy, and how much you wished we could put locks on our doors, you INSISTED on barging into MY room without knocking or giving any indication that you were coming in. All because you wanted to take one of MY movies to watch.

Not a big deal in your book? Well, let’s just say I had a friend in there with me… and we didn’t want to be disturbed. You thought it was no big deal, but to me that was a huge slap in the face. You can have your privacy, but I don’t get mine? Typical.

There are many other reasons I no longer wish to live with you. From leaving piles of dishes in the sink for weeks at a time until I finally had to do them, but then also wanting to complain how “disgusting” the apartment was at least once a week. After the third time, I refused to continue having to do that. If you wanted to let them pile up, so be it. I was not going to continue to be the only one having to do the dishes. So what did you do then? You would complain about how dirty the place was and then go straight to your room and not come out for the rest of the day. And if you did clean, all you did was spray and vacuum the carpet, leaving everything else untouched… old store ads still thrown all over the couch and coffee table, dishes still in the sink, and you just can’t seem to get all of those shit stains out from the carpet under the table that your dog oh-so graciously left for you. Need I mention the tub? I don’t know how it could look like that after every time you showered. After just one time of having to clean it out so I could shower I was done. Now THAT was disgusting. It looked like you hadn’t cleaned it in weeks, but it was only after one wash. After just one time of having to clean your shower mess I decided never again, that was a job for you to do. And since that was the case, it stayed like that for weeks at a time. And you only just recently started keeping it clean once you discovered I was “tired of your shit”. Which I find that whole situation to be a load of bull. You and I both know how you really found that out. And if someone really did tell you, well hats off to them… but I don’t believe that one bit. On the bright side, you’ve actually started cleaning up after yourself. So bravo. On the other hand, you refuse to talk to me… I really don’t care about that though. I don’t want to talk to you either. But if you want me to tell you when you do something I don’t like, don’t you think you should do the same? Which brings me to another note…

THE REASON I WILL NOT TELL YOU WHEN YOU IRRITATE THE PISS OUT OF ME. Because I tried once. And because it’s you, you threw it right back in my face. You see, one of the times you were complaining about how disgusting the apartment was, I actually spoke up and told you how I didn’t like that you kept saying that. How I did not like the use of that word and how it made me feel, which was very hard for me to do since I can’t stand any form of confrontation.

“Well it is disgusting. I can’t live like this.”

Those were the words that came out of your mouth the exact moment after I told you that I DID NOT APPRECIATE YOU SAYING THAT. And in that moment, I decided I could not longer go to you if I had a problem with something you’ve said or done.

So, if this is how you want to live, it will be a fun six or seven months, depending on how you want to count this out. But, let it be known, I will NOT be resigning the lease. I will not go living another year with you.I have noticed my mistake and I have to live with it at least until September, and then you can have all this to yourself. Or you can get another roommate, since two bedrooms would be too much for you (or even I) to afford on your own. I’m not sure what you’ll do when September comes since your dad moved and your mom already lived in a different state. But whatever you decide to do, it will no longer include me. Have a fun rest of your life, hope you make the best of it. Sorry it had to end this way, but as you’ve said…

…I can’t live like this.


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