Jinkies. 10 days. I’m barely packed.

This place is no longer my home, and I feel all but evicted. Why… did I not pay the rent? No, no, I’ve paid the rent completely for the last few months. Also paid most of the bills. But when I come here after work, this place is not my own. It’s been taken over, all but stolen.

Feelings are all bound up. I hate conflict, in any form. I’m just not good with it. Never have been. I have too much empathy sometimes (which is to say, I can be a squeamish wuss), and I hate causing pain and inconvenience, even when I’m being pained and inconvenienced. Unfortunately, this renders me passive when I’m being walked over. So I’m livid, I’m furious, I’m disgusted, I’m anguished, I’m hurt, I’m… tired.

What was my home has been invaded by an Jerry Springer nightmare whose participants are trying to steer it toward some sort of “normal” domestic arrangement. But no one asked if I minded. Granted, I never raised a word or moved to stop it, being the easy going, nice, gracious me. (Translated: Timid, unassertive, passive me.) Ordinarily, these things are my strengths, but they don’t end where I need to be tough.

So I guess I can’t completely claim to be a victim. But I’m leaving here feeling used, lied to, drained, and broke. It feels tragic, since I’m leaving someone who’s been one of my best friends for years and years.

I don’t want the tension, I don’t want the soured friendship, but I’ve got a gut full of bile and disgust about this now. I don’t even want to talk to either of them, him or her. At this point, it seems too late. If I let loose on the both of them, it does nothing but get me stressed and feeling awkward, and gets them feeling horrible. I can’t even get back some of what I’m owed, since there’s nothing to get.

I hate the two of them for taking my home from me and using me, and I hate my passive self for letting it happen.

Fuck.

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