I totally lost it last week. I’ve been on edge for a while.
I feel like a failure after having to move back in with my parents, and I guess
I finally snapped.
A few months ago I met an individual whom was in need of a
friend. I helped her through her time in need…against my better judgment. She
was in a psychiatric hospital and I allowed her to borrow a few of my books.
Now if you don’t know me I have to tell you something about myself: you don’t
come between me and my books. I find literature very comforting and I am very
fond and much attached to all of my books. If I lend you one of my books I
expect you to treat it with great care. I expect the book to be returned to me
in the same shape that it was sent out and I expect the books to be retuned in
a timely manner. This means that if you have had one book for more than three
months and you haven’t read it yet, then you probably aren’t going to read it
and it’s time to return it.
Well this person had kept my books for two months and was
finding every excuse under the sun to not return them to me. She lived about 30
minutes from my apartment and I offered to meet her halfway. I made numerous
attempts to retrieve my books and in the end I even volunteered to go and get
them from her apartment. Eventually, I hit a boiling point.
My best friend was with me in Raleigh, wrapping up some
things with my move back to my parents and I was texting and calling this
individual multiple time in an attempt to either meet her or go to her place to
get the books. She was not responding at all and my temper flared. We made the
joint decision to tempt fate and go to her place and try and see if she was
there, or a roommate was there and could get the books from them. Once we
arrived I told my friend that I couldn’t go up there because if I saw her I was
going to hurt her…and I was serious.
Now, I know you guys are seeing this as an overreaction…and
to some of you that may be true, but you have to remember the stress I was
already under and the previous two months that I had been trying to retrieve my
books already. So, my friend went up to the apartment and I waited in the car.
And I waited and waited and waited and my friend didn’t
return. And I actually started getting worried. My already furious mind started
thinking that this girl may hurt my friend, so I got my phone and called my
buddy’s phone…and she didn’t pick up. So, I began to ready myself for a march
up to that apartment to punch this girl in the throat. But before I could get
out of the car my friend texted me and saved this girl and myself from a cat
fight. Finally my friend came down with the books and now she was pissed. And
before I could leave my phone dinged and that stupid b&%*% texted my phone
and called me a stalked…and the circuits fried and I saw red. My friend just
kept saying let’s go, let’s go and finally I realized that if I didn’t me and
my buddy were going to beat that girl senseless.
And I took one of my chill pills and I gave one to my friend
(don’t judge us). We both slowly calmed down and went to a bookstore…because
bookstores make everything better. :)
So, would love to tell you that once I reached that boiling
point and blew up yelling and screaming about my books and that jerk of a whore,
(I still may have a few issues with her) that I’m back to my normal level, but
honestly I feel like my nerves are raw all the time. People are getting on my
nerves more so than usual.
So all in all, moving back in with your parents sucks. You
get use to things the way you want them and then suddenly you have to go back
to doing everything their way. Go to bed at this time, don’t leave your glass
there, clean your room, no you can’t have any of my peanut butter…blah, blah,
blah. But this too shall pass…it’s just now would be nice. Until next time,
Love, Randi
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