My brother said it best today… life sucks.. dates don’t!
My brother said it best today, life sucks, dates don’t. That just makes perfect sense to me. I am upset today and of course it’s day two of my period so since PMDD ends after four days.. that has to be what it is. It can’t be the fact that my flowers were allowed to die on the fucking porch while all the SHIT he put out there is fine. Another place where he took over and now I have nothing of mine out there. My living room used to be so pretty, I don’t mean like all frilly flowers but pretty as in not a lot of SHIT in it. Now it has a five tier shelving system with all his crap on it. My coffee table which used to be pretty too is now another one of his storage areas. My bedroom which was once nice and clean looks like another storage area with his shit piled up. Boxes and containers. There is no place in this house that shows ME. NOT ONE! I don’t have a single bookshelf, reading is my favorite thing in the world. You’d think someone that loved books would have a book shelf or a book case in their room or living room. But it was always there’s no room for one, BUT we can fit a five tier shelf of SHIT for him. I am so frustrated by it.
What the straw was that finally broke this camels back was the stupid flowers on the porch. I had two flower pots on the railing, a nice long window box with flowers, a dishpan with flowers, a nice minature rose, some tiny daisies and two tomato plants. He has NEVER wanted to grow anything out there.This year he went and bought buckets and buckets and planted all kinds of shit in them. Now all his stuff is healthy and pretty looking but every last one of my fucking flowers is dead. I am just so hurt and angry by it all.
Then I look around my room and see all his shit. Two bureaus, numerous rubbermaid huge containers and i see me with one little bureau and one little container on top of it. It feels almost like.. do I exist? Can anyone see me? Don’t they know I have feelings too? Don’t they realize I too would like space to call my own. I also swear to God if my goddamn doorbell rings one more time today I will not be held responsible for my actions which will probably be ripping the thing off it’s hinges and beating to within an inch of their life the person on the other side of the door. Can you see me? Can you hear me? Am I real??????
What the straw was that finally broke this camels back was the stupid flowers on the porch. I had two flower pots on the railing, a nice long window box with flowers, a dishpan with flowers, a nice minature rose, some tiny daisies and two tomato plants. He has NEVER wanted to grow anything out there.This year he went and bought buckets and buckets and planted all kinds of shit in them. Now all his stuff is healthy and pretty looking but every last one of my fucking flowers is dead. I am just so hurt and angry by it all.
Then I look around my room and see all his shit. Two bureaus, numerous rubbermaid huge containers and i see me with one little bureau and one little container on top of it. It feels almost like.. do I exist? Can anyone see me? Don’t they know I have feelings too? Don’t they realize I too would like space to call my own. I also swear to God if my goddamn doorbell rings one more time today I will not be held responsible for my actions which will probably be ripping the thing off it’s hinges and beating to within an inch of their life the person on the other side of the door. Can you see me? Can you hear me? Am I real??????
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