I’ve not slept in my own bed since Monday night because you’ve driven me out of my house. My childhood home. You’re rude and expect me to apologise to you. You’re controlling and manipulative and don’t like it when I ask you to stop. Then you sit an wonder why I don’t have the mynadd to sit and listen to you whittle on about the deals in Co op or the weather. You can’t deal with life unless you’re in control, have the upper hand and have everyone around you doing exactly what you want them to do. You’re toxic. You’re selfish. And it’s exhausting to know you. I have finally come home but I’m so scared of bumping into you, and you acting like nothing is wrong that I waited until you finally left the house at 3pm to eat. What’s most frustrating about this situation is that I can’t tell you this. Because you’ll have a strop and tell me what a terrible person I am for questioning you. In this house it doesn’t matter how miserable you make everyone around you, as long as you get your way you couldn’t care less!
