Sometimes I feel bad about complaining on Tumblr, but at least this isn’t Facebook. Hell, I’d probably get the shit kicked out of me if I wrote the following on Facebook. More likely all my belongings would get thrown in the dumpster while I was in class, though. Too bad there’s no locks on the bedroom doors here.
Have you ever had one of those roommates who just WEARS AT THE VERY FIBERS OF YOUR SOUL? Or causes you to be so afraid of spending time in your own kitchen, you haven’t made any real food beyond toast and cold fridge-items for a week? Or start missing school because you are so stressed you can’t complete your work on time, right on the brink of finals?
How about keeping all of your belongings in your bathroom-sized bedroom (which you share with another person) because you know from experience that you shouldn’t leave anything out unattended, or else it’ll be broken, hidden, or go missing for days?
I realize now that I never knew the meaning of the term “passive-aggressive” until I came to live here.
Maybe I just have a “weak” character, but so be it. I’m genetically wired for hypersensitivity; every stomping footstep, every slam of the door, every movement or noise when she is here sets me into fight-or-flight mode. Thank you, but I refuse to engage in the conflict she so dearly seems to crave. Reasoning hasn’t worked with her, passive-aggressive behavior hasn’t worked with her. She is a chronic void of rage, pain, masochism, narcissism, and unhappy sentiment.
Her presence here makes me neurotic, paranoid, and physically ill from anxiety, particularly when it happens on a daily basis. She always made me uncomfortable in a subtle way I never quite took into account; now I finally understand why. I wish I’d listened to my gut instinct in the first place and recognized a severely disturbed person when I saw one.
Sometimes I wish this apartment were under the domain of student housing, because that would make it a lot simpler for us to encourage her to GET THE LIVING FUCK OUT OF OUR LIVES.
