...With...Disdain

Anyone who knows me well knows that, while I hate confrontation, even more so, I hate being degraded and talked down to. Sadly, this has become a recurrent theme at our house lately and, I fear, will carry through to the end of our lease. Part of me is mourning - mourning the loss of an associate, the safety and simplicity of our house, etc. More than that though, I'm livid. I'm beyond frustrated at the situation and the person that it's most intimately associated with...scratch that...make that people.



I will not tolerate being verbally assaulted.



I will not tolerate being afraid to move about my own house.



I will not tolerate the look of utter disgust that you present to me each and every time you see me.



I WILL NOT apologize for things I have not done or transgressions you falsely accuse me of.



In fact, it's YOU who should be apologizing. You should be the one helping us find a new roommate. You should be the one who puts the empty toilet paper roll in the recycling. You should be the one to do your chores. You should be the one respecting your housemates in your incessant and unending sex-capades that can be heard through a door, up the stairs, and over a loud movie. You should be the one attempting to reconcile...to clean up your oil stain...to treat those you live with with at least respect and civility. Because this...what you're doing now...is nothing close to that.



As I sit listening to your potluck in the backyard...that you invited all of our mutual friends to...except for S, J, and I, I realize something. Despite wishing to say hello to my friends down there, I'm relieved to not be there dealing with you. I've heard you talk shit about more than one person you now sit giggling with.



I'm sorry for the lost friendship but, more than that, I'm sorry I let you take my dignity..even for just a few days. No more. This is my house...just as much as it is yours...and possibly more...since, after all, it IS my parents' names on the lease. Isn't that how it goes? Hmmmm.