As of now
I spilled beer into the couch tonight. I felt really bad. New couches; new beer smell. Why did I mess up again?
I could tell it wasn't ok with Brian. Someone who was actually not too bothered by the fact would have said, "Oh, it's ok. Don't worry about it," especially after I offered to wash the couch cushion covers by hand. But the reaction I got was,
"No, just sit down."
Mind you. I'm not a dog the last time I checked. I just offered to was the cushion covers by hand.
"No, just sit. It's over." It's over? What's over? Why is it over? Who gets to decide it's over? Why him?
Yeah, I understand that he just wants to relax. I want to relax, too, and I wanted it to be a great night. But I just spilled beer into a couch, and I was and still am kicking myself for being such an idiot, knowing that the house and his things matter to him. I had to do something to make it better -- I offered to wash the couch cushion covers by hand.
But the reply I got was just to sit and that the discussion, as he said, was over.
Why does the discussion have to be over when he says so? Why do I have to sit because he says so? Why do all of these remarks seem so much like commands? Why do they seem so self-absorbed to me? How can I be gentle with someone when I don't feel being on equal plains?
Not ok, and very upset.
I yelled. I really was just trying to argue for what's fair, and just for him to decide the "discussion was over" really wasn't fair. But I think I came off as being a drunk ass bitch exaggerating a problem that's nothing.
It's 2:25am, and I'm still downstairs while he's upstairs ... sound asleep.
If it really matters to him, why wouldn't he try to talk to me? No, don't even have to try to talk; just come and invite me upstairs would be nice. Or even just to see what I'm doing downstairs, even just to see how pissed off I am.
But no. Sound asleep. I feel so bad, I almost think that I owe him to swallow my anger or question how I feel and wonder if I'm just hallucinating just because he let me stay at his house for free, just because he tells me he cares and would do anything for me.
Right. Anything but to think about how I feel. I feel awful for spilling beer into the new couch. I feel like such a burden to have to be moved out into his house. I feel stupid for not being able to help my own self. I feel like a total disaster of a daughter, sister, cousin, lover and friend. I feel like I'm not a 100% as a student. I feel bad for not being able to help him out when he's stressed out with a million things to do. I feel completely alone when I face my exhausting family issues because he has no idea how I feel and would not give me even a couple minutes of his day to just sit and hold me because he's "way too busy" -- and asking for it just makes me feel clingy and needy. I feel completely fat, nasty, weak, uncoordinated, small, feeble-minded, worthless and utterly and disgustingly ugly. I feel absolutely dispensible and easy to be overlook because I'm here everyday and have guaranteed that I will always be here. I feel that all I offer is a sense of comfort and am only good for chores ... only mediocre, at best. I feel like I am a complete failure for being where I am in life -- instead of being on track with a career and making money, I'm still sitting on my ass, going to school to "get smart" and incur giant sums of debt that will never go away. I am scared. I feel like I stick out no matter where I am -- how does it feel to be comfortable? I don't feel like I belong in this house and am having a rather lengthy transition to make this place my home despite my efforts: No, the house isn't mine. The room isn't mine. The food isn't mine (that's why I'd rather ask before eating anything). The Christmas tree wasn't mine. The stockings aren't mine, and certainly not the cat. (In fact, I find it difficult to find anywhere my home.) What do I have?
Sometimes I just wonder what a difference I make to anyone.
Life as of right now ... sucks.
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