Just know you're not alone, 'cause I'm gonna make this place your home.
My neighbors just woke me up again. This happens every couple weeks or so. From talking to Nate and Chris, my other neighbors with whom I'm friends, this would happen much more often if I slept here every night. That is infuriating to me for so many reasons. At the most basic level, it's depriving me of a good night's sleep, something I desperately need if I'm going to be at all good at my job in the morning. I wake up so abruptly, at the slamming of a door below me, the shaking of my floorboards, and the onslaught continues without a break. I don't know how long they've been shouting obscenities at each other before I'm jolted awake. And I don't care.
There was a time when I did, but it's long past. They are vile in their language, in their actions toward each other. I have moments of sympathy toward them occasionally, but their seemingly mutual hatred for each other and complete disregard for their many neighbors makes me so much more resentful than sympathetic. They seem to thrive off their shared venom, and this has infected me. It's so much more than the loss of sleep.
I think the reason I become so bitter is that they make me embarrassed of where I live. I have always prided myself on a welcoming home, something I get from my mother and other figures in my life. My closet is always full of extra blankets and towels and my pantry stocked with a few easy go-to ingredients for spur of the moment group meals. I like having a place where people can come and feel safe and happy and rested and welcome. I like living somewhere that my parents could come visit me and feel proud of the life I'm making.
Instead, these outbursts make me feel isolated and ashamed, and I don't know where to put those emotions.
Tonight, they ended with me having a complete meltdown because I thought this ol' livejournal had been deleted. Turns out I was just putting in the wrong user name. But there for a minute I thought every cheesy sappy silly entry from 19 year old me was gone gone gone, and I was as sad as you could be. We're here, though, as you can see. All systems go. We are cleared for take-off.
There was a time when I did, but it's long past. They are vile in their language, in their actions toward each other. I have moments of sympathy toward them occasionally, but their seemingly mutual hatred for each other and complete disregard for their many neighbors makes me so much more resentful than sympathetic. They seem to thrive off their shared venom, and this has infected me. It's so much more than the loss of sleep.
I think the reason I become so bitter is that they make me embarrassed of where I live. I have always prided myself on a welcoming home, something I get from my mother and other figures in my life. My closet is always full of extra blankets and towels and my pantry stocked with a few easy go-to ingredients for spur of the moment group meals. I like having a place where people can come and feel safe and happy and rested and welcome. I like living somewhere that my parents could come visit me and feel proud of the life I'm making.
Instead, these outbursts make me feel isolated and ashamed, and I don't know where to put those emotions.
Tonight, they ended with me having a complete meltdown because I thought this ol' livejournal had been deleted. Turns out I was just putting in the wrong user name. But there for a minute I thought every cheesy sappy silly entry from 19 year old me was gone gone gone, and I was as sad as you could be. We're here, though, as you can see. All systems go. We are cleared for take-off.