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I just spent three hours cleaning my apartment for Matt's mother's arrival. Did Matt ask me to? No. Did Matt say he was going to clean? Yes. Does Matt know I did? No. Did I plan on doing it? No. Did I want to? No. Did it have to be done? No. Will Matt's mom notice one way or another? No. SO WHY THE FUCK DID I DO IT? I'LL TELL YOU WHY THE FUCK I DID IT! I FUCKING DID IT BECAUSE I FUCKING NEEDED TO! I HAVE PRIDE IN WHAT I HAVE EVEN IF IT IS JUST AN APARTMENT I'M ONLY LIVING IN FOR A YEAR! PRIDE IN MY LIVING SPACE! PRIDE IN MY POSSESSIONS! PROUD THAT I HAVE THE DECENY TO KEEP CARE OF THOSE THINGS! Crumbs all over the floor, carpet barely vacuumed! Don't tell me this is just college, don't tell me that I didn't need to do it! This is my apartment GOD DAMMIT! And I don't really give a fuck that I bear no relation to the guest in question, nor that it was on my invitation, nor that I probably won't enjoy this weekend, but regardless the guest will be in my apartment just as much as in Matt's! Therefore, my guest, my honor in what I keep, my pride in what I have. I CAN'T I MUST FUCK IT FUCK IT FUCK IT! No one but I will see the stains on the stove or the breadcrumbs on the counters or the granola pieces across the counters. No one will notice the bleach that missed the entry to the washer and splattered on the floor. NO ONE WILL FUCKING NOTICE! Why did I waste away three hours? Why did I spend them in hatred of the act I was doing? Why didn't I just leave the mud on the floor, the carpet festered with gunk? WHY? WHY? WHY? FUCKING TELL ME WHY? I sit here at my computer, sweating, angry, if I'm honest with tears trying to escape my fucking eyes. I understand my mother never letting me invite friends over unless the house was spotless, I connect with Carolyn Burnham stopping her husband mid-kiss in fear of beer spilling on the furniture. Is my life going down in the same utter unhappiness? Am I bound to exist with many friendly people about, but no friends to call on? Disgusted at what is, unable to change certain things, but determined not to let them stop me? Fuck the bag spinning in the wind. It is litter, don't videotape it, pick it off the fucking ground! And my mind returns to how that stain wouldn't come off no matter how much fucking Bon-Ami I wasted trying to remove it. My laundry is going about and about circling. Once it is done I'll put them away promptly as to avoid wrinkles. I've started separating them between warm and cool colors now, you know. I didn't used to do that. And now I'm on Facebook, 3:42 in the fucking morning. And yet again, Leo's visage appears as I open my profile. That youthful, happy, puppy face rested upon his brother's fur. Those now lifeless eyes looking at me with unseen vision. It is the two month anniversary of his death. He would have been 10 and 3 quarters today. Well Happy 10 and 3 quarters birthday, Buddy! He died a little past two, I missed it, cleaning. And now I am fucking crying again! I am 19 fucking years old, I should not cry, I am beyond tears, yet those seem not to exist, my cry is more a dry cringe, a feeling of hopelessness and then a pulling of myself together. You know, Matt had to stifle a laugh when I told him about Leo, immaturity at its finest. Yes, Matt, he fucking choked on his own vomit as he had a fucking feeding tube down his mouth and it blocked his breathing causing him to go into cardiac arrest! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Choked on vomit! I laugh at the pure amusement of the thought! How do you think people die of alcohol poisoning half the time? HAHAHAHAHAHA! I can't stand it anymore! I fear going to sleep, I've had dreams almost every night about him ruining things, ruining me, he hasn't managed to kill me, I don't think. It is my dream after all. I have to be going crazy. I hate my roommate, I hate him more than I hated my sloppy roommate, for go beyond the general untidiness, I can deal, go instead into the pure manner, the way he goes about himself, the way he has little remorse, the way he uses people. And in this world I pity him, but not in the way I pitied that no one was rooming with him last November, no, pity that he is the way he is. My laundry has completed, the fourth hour approaches with seconds to spare and yet my tiredness will not control my early morning today.
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The Prez

Posts : 1818
Join date : 2009-06-17
Age : 27
Location : Pewaukee, Wisconsin or Champaign, Illinois

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Post on Sat Sep 25, 2010 7:19 pm by strangerthanfiction

Drew,

I hope you are feeling better now. Which sounds like such a lame thing to say, but I hope you have managed to get some sleep.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with taking pride in what you own, what is yours, what you want to show. I am learning this now. Nothing wrong. It was awfully good of you to do it for Matt's mother, even if you bear no relation to her, as long as Matt doesn't take all the credit for it. Because that would be unfair. Cleaning can help you feel better about your surroundings, it really can. It's amazing what a little vacuuming can do.
It's okay, Drew, to cry. It really is. Just because you're nineteen doesn't mean you shouldn't/can't cry. You're having a tough time, and it's completely understandable. (I'm sorry if this sounds really patronising.)
We will talk later. Here is a hug now, and I hope you are feeling somewhat better.
Love,
Alex

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Post on Sun Sep 26, 2010 5:27 pm by AgentW

The english teacher in me says: paragraphs.


so why do you keep him as a room mate?

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Post on Sun Sep 26, 2010 6:01 pm by The Prez

I should have put paragraphs in. And I kept him as a roommate, because you had to decide on these things in November and well he really didn't start to get annoying until after that.

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Post on Mon Sep 27, 2010 6:48 pm by AgentW

you have weird contracts for dorming. Or go and burn down his side of the room. a little arson never hurt no one.

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Post on Mon Sep 27, 2010 9:18 pm by strangerthanfiction

HEY CASEY. REMEMBER THE LAST TIME YOU SUGGESTED ARSON?
Yeah. It didn't work out so well.

I'll just point that out.

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