Do you ever come home after a time away? I’ve been almost living with my boyfriend for almost a year now, and I definitely haven’t been home for a week. I forgot how oppressive it was. I was so upset that I haven’t had time to spend with my family, but now I can’t wait to leave.
Mid-conversation, the tv was turned onto a DVR-ed show that no one likes, but no one is allowed to talk through. The dog isn’t even allowed to breathe his normal loud breathing. Sorry I was mid-sentence. You could have asked who wanted to watch it. Now they’re like 3 episodes ahead, and I have to catch up, so I’m hiding in my room. Way to be inclusive guys!
Now, I should go over to my boyfriend’s house, but I really do hate it there. I hate the actual house. I hate it to the point where it actually makes me sick. Really the house isn’t too bad, but the things I hate about it, I can’t change. I can’t change that my car can’t get up the driveway. I can’t change that the layout is terribly inefficient. I can’t change that its in a horrible location. So I try to suck it up. There are somethings I can try to change though. I can try to get my boyfriend to clean up after himself. I can try to get him to clean out all of the trash. I can try to get him to fix things instead of complaining about them. But let’s face it, I’ll be the one that has to do them.
Going there just symbolizes such a burden on me. I go from having no responsibilities to having to parent. I don’t like nagging. I don’t like having to ask for help for him. I don’t like that he tries to control me and my food. Every time I walk into that house it’s like a slap in the face of everything I hate in our relationship.
I really want a place of my own. Someplace where I can watch what I want, and eat things I want to eat. I want to keep it as messy or as clean as I want it. I want to pick the colors and be close to things I want to be close to.
Instead I must live practically homeless between these two houses.