Why I need a vacation.
I'm afraid of what's coming and how this is going to happen.
Mr. Asshat has not found a job yet. He will most likely end up on the streets. He will also probably loose what little he has - a bed, bookcase, desk, dresser, clothing, books, computer. I want to help him, but I can't, and I know I can't. I can support myself on my income, and have money left over to do things I enjoy. I can't support two people, and really, in case anyone is wondering, I'm not about to. I live in terror that he's going to ask me to house him, because I will have to say no. He can't pay rent, and he'd have to fill out a lease if he stays with me...and since he can't pay rent, that's not going to happen, nor will I risk being evicted or kicked out for keeping a person at my apartment without the office's notice. I can't afford to move again, and worse, if it's because of him, I highly doubt that my aunt and my dad would help. So for seven hundred thousand reasons, the biggest one being that I just don't want him to live with me, the answer will have to be no.
I do not want to be asked, because I do not want to have to answer.
But how fucking nice, eh? Mr. Nonconfrontational gets mad if he has to deal with people he doesn't know doing things that they're not supposed to, might ask me something that I will have to be confrontational about. I wish that I had the ability to arrange my life so that I had as little confrontation as possible. Mr. Nonconfrontational, who never tells me when he's mad, when he is mad, and instead festers and simmers until it blows up into a really big confrontation, and that really, really drives me insane. Mr. Nonconfrontational, who asks, "What is wrong with me?" but really means it as a rhetorical question, and if you attempt to answer it, will get mad at you, because, I suppose, you weren't suppose to notice that there is something wrong with him. Never mind trying, in an adult manner like adults should do, discussing problems and disagreements, and trying to work your way through it.
Remember, Mr. Asshat, that conversation in the bar just after we broke up? Why It Was Good For You vs. Why It Was Good For Me? You had one reason. I probably would have thought and listed more, but after an hour and a half, I got kinda tired of talking about it. And you don't see where I would have been bitter and resentful for all those reasons - I lost count of the number - and that would feed into your One Big Reason? If you had treated me better and like a human being instead of a peon, that that One Big Reason wouldn't have been a reason at all? And why on earth, when you can fucking do calculous for fun, can you not get this, after how many fucking times of telling you this? Oh, maybe this will help:
Belittlingme(Ignoringme)(Kickedintheleg²)
------------------------------------------ = |Bitter(Resentment)|²
(Entitlementtomymoney)
Would that help? I could give you the values of each. You might need to use your calculator, though, because the numbers are pretty big.
But as resentful as I am, I do feel sorry for him and I do care. I really don't want him to think that denying him a place to live is connected to those feelings, because it's not. It's not the years wasted on a fool; it's the self-preservation. This is not a responsibility that I can take on, even if I wanted to take it on. In some ways, that makes me more logical than he is. I just can't do it, and that's the simple truth. But I know in my heart what he's probably going to think about it, because I've heard him say things too many times to know that he's going to think I'm doing this out of spite, when, for the love of God, I'm not. And I know from experience that he won't listen to what I'm saying. If I made a few hundred thousand dollars a year, I'd take in all of my favorite jobless friends, rent-free, until they find a job (I would, for the record, also have a pony and a large house on Lake Drive). But as it stands, I can't even take in one jobless friend.
I guess really what this is about, is that I'm probably going to lose a friend over something that I have no ability to control, and he will probably blame it on me. And stubborn me, I refuse to take the blame for something that is clearly not my fault. If it were my fault, I'd accept the blame for it. The thing is, he has to assign blame to everything, so if it's not my fault, then it's his. After he's out on the streets, how long will he last? Will his health get the best of him or his mind? Or will he commit suicide, which I think is rather likely?
Lord, I know ask too much, but really, just drop a fucking job in his lap? Oh, wait, who am I kidding? He probably wouldn't know it....
*Sigh*
Now, not only do I need a vacation, I need a drink.
