Oh! I forgot! The entire world revolves around you! Oh, well, let's just tell mom and dad to ignore what God's telling them to do because poor Joshie will have his life changed a bit, the poor baby!
I will say it again: deal with it. This is not about you, and frankly, you throwing a tantrum is not going to change it. We are moving. Your life will change very little because, hey, guess what? YOU DON'T LIVE HERE. You're not the only one who's lived her all your life, you're not the only one who likes it here, but it's just a place.
Do not give me shit about your friends being 45 minutes away. My boyfriend? Lives in Texas. If I want to spend quality time with him, I have to take a week off from work, buy a $400 plane ticket and fly down there, typically only for a week at a time. My best friend? Lives in Tennessee. We're lucky if we see each other annually. My other two best friends? One presently lives 45 minutes away (in Boston) and the other is setting up a happy home in Kansas City. And all of my other friends? Not one lives closer than 45 minutes away (considering that George has decided to be an ass, so he doesn't make the cut anymore): Doug in New York, Tom in Florida, Rhiannon in Virginia, Beth in Quincy, Jess in Connecticut, Allen and Alan in Maine, friends off in Australia, Canada, Michigan. So please. If you think you're getting any sympathy from me on the "Woe is me! I will not have a social life unless I drive 45 minutes!" thing, you're out of your mind.
Not to mention that unless you were really naive enough to think that you and all of your Millbury friends were going to be living in Millbury until the day you died, this was going to happen eventually. Life is change. The sooner you figure that out and the better you cope with it, (a) the happier you'll be and (b) the less like a selfish little shit you'll appear to be.
Deal with it. Deal with it and pray about it. Have you prayed about it? From your post, I'm guessing the answer is no. Keep in mind that Annie and I also do not go to Mum and Dad's church, and if we want to keep going to our current church, this will mean driving 45 minutes every Sunday (at least) as gas prices soar skywards. Keep in mind that, hey, guess what? Annie and I have lived here as long as you have (longer, actually...you know, the age thing) and neither of us remember living anywhere else. Keep in mind that even if all three of us mounted a protest (which is not happening...moving means our own rooms, likely a swimming pool and plumbing that actually doesn't suck, and Annie and I really don't care where that happens), it's not our house. It's Mum and Dad's. God's called them to Milford.
Be grateful that they told you. Be grateful that they're looking for a house big enough for all of us, instead of a two-bedroom ranch that they can have as their retirement cottage and use as a subtle hint to us saying, "Move out." Be grateful that you're actually going to be involved in the process instead of just told "O hay this is ur new haus!!1!!" Be grateful and for once in your silly little life, please realize that it's not about you.
I will say it again: deal with it. This is not about you, and frankly, you throwing a tantrum is not going to change it. We are moving. Your life will change very little because, hey, guess what? YOU DON'T LIVE HERE. You're not the only one who's lived her all your life, you're not the only one who likes it here, but it's just a place.
Do not give me shit about your friends being 45 minutes away. My boyfriend? Lives in Texas. If I want to spend quality time with him, I have to take a week off from work, buy a $400 plane ticket and fly down there, typically only for a week at a time. My best friend? Lives in Tennessee. We're lucky if we see each other annually. My other two best friends? One presently lives 45 minutes away (in Boston) and the other is setting up a happy home in Kansas City. And all of my other friends? Not one lives closer than 45 minutes away (considering that George has decided to be an ass, so he doesn't make the cut anymore): Doug in New York, Tom in Florida, Rhiannon in Virginia, Beth in Quincy, Jess in Connecticut, Allen and Alan in Maine, friends off in Australia, Canada, Michigan. So please. If you think you're getting any sympathy from me on the "Woe is me! I will not have a social life unless I drive 45 minutes!" thing, you're out of your mind.
Not to mention that unless you were really naive enough to think that you and all of your Millbury friends were going to be living in Millbury until the day you died, this was going to happen eventually. Life is change. The sooner you figure that out and the better you cope with it, (a) the happier you'll be and (b) the less like a selfish little shit you'll appear to be.
Deal with it. Deal with it and pray about it. Have you prayed about it? From your post, I'm guessing the answer is no. Keep in mind that Annie and I also do not go to Mum and Dad's church, and if we want to keep going to our current church, this will mean driving 45 minutes every Sunday (at least) as gas prices soar skywards. Keep in mind that, hey, guess what? Annie and I have lived here as long as you have (longer, actually...you know, the age thing) and neither of us remember living anywhere else. Keep in mind that even if all three of us mounted a protest (which is not happening...moving means our own rooms, likely a swimming pool and plumbing that actually doesn't suck, and Annie and I really don't care where that happens), it's not our house. It's Mum and Dad's. God's called them to Milford.
Be grateful that they told you. Be grateful that they're looking for a house big enough for all of us, instead of a two-bedroom ranch that they can have as their retirement cottage and use as a subtle hint to us saying, "Move out." Be grateful that you're actually going to be involved in the process instead of just told "O hay this is ur new haus!!1!!" Be grateful and for once in your silly little life, please realize that it's not about you.
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I really don't have the presence of mind right now to craft a non "fuck you" response to the rest of that post. Maybe after church. Maybe.
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