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Apr. 11th, 2015 06:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
promenyTwo odd things happened.
One, the people downstairs had their apartment broken into and ransacked. The guy who did it broke the window of the room right below mine and then just fucked everything up. I slept right through it; I vaguely heard loud noises but I shrugged them off, because I'm used to those guys being loud. Apparently, the place was fucked, and almost everything was taken. Some people think that the guy who did it was one of the people who used to live there. I figured that it was a personal matter, because they are known to piss others off and my car, that was right next to the window, wasn't even touched. You'd think that the criminal would be smart enough to at least break a car window, in order to make it look more random. But no, nothing was stolen from my car; not even the spare change (that actually happened about a year ago).
The people downstairs are gone now. I take it that they are scared. Well, I guess no rednecks are going to be living down there anytime soon.
The second thing caught me almost as much off-guard. My roommate told me that he didn't want to sign the lease, so we both agreed to drop it. A few days later, when I asked him to sign the drop form, he said that his friend and his girlfriend from California are going to move in here together, and that they don't like sharing a room. Essentially, he is going to stay and I am going to have to move out. That is bullshit, and he even incidentally said that he was talking to his friend about this for about a month, so obviously this was premeditated. I wasn't angry; just depressed and disappointed. I figured out that the two of us didn't quite get along anymore, but not to this extent. As a result, I've stopped reading for a while and I'm not cooking as much, although I'm still writing something right now.
I'm just so fucking stressed and paranoid. I mean, the roommate wasn't my friend, but I thought him to be better than that. You can live with someone for years and not really know them at all, I guess. I'm going to find a single bedroom apartment or a studio apartment just so that I don't even have to deal with this possibility again. I've stopped drinking beer in order to save up some money for the move. I'll probably only scrounge up roughly $200 from that, but that is better than nothing.
So yeah, I don't trust people anymore and I don't want to be friends with anyone. Although I am looking forward to moving; it would be cool to have my own apartment, all to myself. More privacy, and no one fucking bothers you. I was thinking only about a week or so ago that I do love this place, but that I could in theory live here for the rest of my life, and that fucking scared me. I don't like change, but the thought of things never changing is something I don't like even more. I don't want to live in an artificial la-la-land; I need to grow up every once in a while.
I just need to move on. But this was all because my roommate couldn't deal with his own problems, so he focused on mine. A familiar theme, both inside and outside of my private life.
One, the people downstairs had their apartment broken into and ransacked. The guy who did it broke the window of the room right below mine and then just fucked everything up. I slept right through it; I vaguely heard loud noises but I shrugged them off, because I'm used to those guys being loud. Apparently, the place was fucked, and almost everything was taken. Some people think that the guy who did it was one of the people who used to live there. I figured that it was a personal matter, because they are known to piss others off and my car, that was right next to the window, wasn't even touched. You'd think that the criminal would be smart enough to at least break a car window, in order to make it look more random. But no, nothing was stolen from my car; not even the spare change (that actually happened about a year ago).
The people downstairs are gone now. I take it that they are scared. Well, I guess no rednecks are going to be living down there anytime soon.
The second thing caught me almost as much off-guard. My roommate told me that he didn't want to sign the lease, so we both agreed to drop it. A few days later, when I asked him to sign the drop form, he said that his friend and his girlfriend from California are going to move in here together, and that they don't like sharing a room. Essentially, he is going to stay and I am going to have to move out. That is bullshit, and he even incidentally said that he was talking to his friend about this for about a month, so obviously this was premeditated. I wasn't angry; just depressed and disappointed. I figured out that the two of us didn't quite get along anymore, but not to this extent. As a result, I've stopped reading for a while and I'm not cooking as much, although I'm still writing something right now.
I'm just so fucking stressed and paranoid. I mean, the roommate wasn't my friend, but I thought him to be better than that. You can live with someone for years and not really know them at all, I guess. I'm going to find a single bedroom apartment or a studio apartment just so that I don't even have to deal with this possibility again. I've stopped drinking beer in order to save up some money for the move. I'll probably only scrounge up roughly $200 from that, but that is better than nothing.
So yeah, I don't trust people anymore and I don't want to be friends with anyone. Although I am looking forward to moving; it would be cool to have my own apartment, all to myself. More privacy, and no one fucking bothers you. I was thinking only about a week or so ago that I do love this place, but that I could in theory live here for the rest of my life, and that fucking scared me. I don't like change, but the thought of things never changing is something I don't like even more. I don't want to live in an artificial la-la-land; I need to grow up every once in a while.
I just need to move on. But this was all because my roommate couldn't deal with his own problems, so he focused on mine. A familiar theme, both inside and outside of my private life.
