Blackouts

Posted: September 23, 2012 in transliteration

My newest housemate bothers me.
I feel like I need to carry mace and my cell phone into my own kitchen.
I lock my door while I’m in my room.

I come home to windows shut
doors unlocked
lights on
and no one home.

He has been here less than a week, and I can’t stand him.

I hear the door open
shut
open
shut.

Open.
Shut.

Open.
Shut.

I can’t sleep when I hear the doors opening and closing.
Constantly.
At all hours.

I know he doesn’t lock the door.

I already have two that hang out at the bottom of my steps.
There’s one that wanders over from the next door down
whenever I come out.

“What are you up to?”
“Where are you off to?”

It’s none of your goddamned business, and if you fucking follow me; I will put you in county lockup.

Don’t leave notes on my car.
Don’t knock on my door.
Don’t ask the neighbors about me.
Don’t fucking follow me.

Stop fucking following me.

It’s different when it’s inside.
Where I live.

I don’t want to bump into you every time I leave my room.
I don’t want to fucking talk to you.
I don’t want to see you.
I don’t want to smile and laugh at your inane prattling jokes.
I don’t want to invite you into my room.
I don’t want to suck your cock, and I am not sending mixed signals.

Yes, I live here.
No, I don’t live with you.

Take your “How you doin’?” hungry head to toe to chest assessment of me and shove it up your ass.

I’m so stressed out that I black out.
I’m missing chunks of time.

My dishes were done and there was a single dirty butter knife in the sink.
It took me two hours to realize that I did my dishes and I used that knife, and I only figured it out, because there was peanut butter on the knife and I could recall making toast. I could only recall making toast, because I hate having to use my toaster oven, and I hate having to use my toaster oven, because I hate having a toaster oven. I hate having a toaster oven, because I know I lost my toaster to a fucking asshole who forced me to move out of a reasonably good living situation two years ago. A living situation that has nosedived into this bullshit.

Fuck if I wouldn’t rather be homeless right now.
Stay away from me.
I don’t want to spend my lucid time accounting for gaps in my memory.

I won’t.

Just stay the fuck away from me.

Advertisements

Comments are closed.