Open Letter

Today is another day. Oh, how profound. I do not normally write a blog to one person. If you feel that I am writing to you, then okay. Maybe I am. But, today is different. Today, I am writing a direct letter to my roommate. So, if you are not my roommate, you may want to skip today, or you can read it. Here goes. I have not had a roommate for a long time. Unless you count when I lived with my parents and took care of them. If you don't count that, it has been since college. Okay. When I moved to Greenville, my thought was to start a new life. To use my creative juices to do monologues. That door closed. Although struggling, I have been able to survive the best way I could. I haven't had a regular job, but I have been able to sell some stuff on the internet. I thought your friend was going to let me do that store in Easley, but I guess not. You and I don't communicate. I try, but you just don't. You shut me out. I would have thought you and I would have had some fun together, but I go to places alone. I do not feel that I had any intention to change you, but I did think you could have meet me halfway. You didn't thank me for paying the electric bill, so they wouldn't cut off the power. Instead, you blamed me for not paying the bill that I never saw. You blamed me for not taking out the trash and thus had ants and gnats in the condo. Despite you dropping food on the floor. I sprayed the condo, and they went away. I don't understand how you can have a regular bedtime and regular time getting up Monday through Friday, but on Friday night and Saturday night, you stay up all night and then pass out all day Saturday and Sunday. Then, you complain we don't do anything. We don't do anything, because I have a regular schedule each and every day. I do not appreciate that you yell out in the middle of the night several times on Friday and Saturday night and wake me up. I cannot judge your drinking, despite I am a recovering alcoholic and have no desire to drink, but why do you develop a raging hangover over the night and not sleep, and then you get mad at me for having a regular schedule? I need my sleep to function. I am here too. You are incredibly inconsiderate. You blamed me for losing the keys to the basement and laundry room. If I did, I am very sorry, but they were over the trash can, so who knows? Maybe I am being picky, but I thought we could be a team. I exist here. You are the king of the condo. That's fine. Your name is on the condo. You give me a little spot in the refrigerator. It would have been nice to have half of it, but that's not possible. I have let you use my utensils, glasses, and bowls. I tried to be considerate, but it is not a two-way street. At least not now. You complain about your body hurting. I am going to tell you a secret. My father constantly moaned and groaned. He was not really hurting. He just wanted attention. I would ask him what was the matter, and he would say nothing. He just wanted you to ask him. I had my fill with that kind of thing. I have no sympathy for people who moan for no reason but their own. I am sorry if that sounds cold, but that is the way it is. If you are sick, go to the doctor. If you need my help, I'll take you. But, if you drink to excess, and then have a bad hangover, sorry but that is your fault, not mine. Ever wonder why I have gone to Columbia so much? To get away from your smoke. I had no idea how much you smoked. Constantly. It has gotten in my clothes and fragile lungs. I have asthma and chronic bronchitis. I have been able to manage it recently, but God help you if I get an attack. You cough all the time. You blame it on hay fever. Could it be because of your smoking? Can you imagine how much money you would save by stopping smoking? That is your choice to change. Yes, I am addicted to Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. I can go through a $3 bag a day. But, I'll make you a deal. Cut back on your smoking, and I'll cut back on my candy. I have no idea if you will read this, but here is the bottom line to this diatribe. I really want to move back to Columbia, but right now I can't afford to. I see that it was a mistake coming here, although my stress levels have gotten a lot better. Between Macy's and my financial situation, my depression was too hard to take. I had to make a change. I miss my friends very much. I love my friends. Thom, Mary Ann, Joni, Del, Peggy, Konnie, Ne'cole, and so many more. I can't tell you how excited I was when Mary offered me a place in the Simply Pleasures store in Simpsonville. It was a place I could go to sell some of my stuff. And, I expect it will stay there for now. But, I can't stay here. I can't be sympathetic to your plight. I am sorry about that. I imagine you thought that I wouldn't have been here this long. But, you must tell me things. What is the status of the Clemson job? Tell me what I need to do. Do I need to move out? I have tried to get a job. But, things are not too good right now. When do you want to see Little Mountain? When do you want to do stuff? Why are you tired all the time? Why do you complain you haven't been out since I got here? If you do read this, I hope you don't do anything to me. Quite frankly, when you blamed me for the power bill not being paid, you hung up the phone on me. I was afraid for my life. That is why I went down to Columbia. Yes, it was a family emergency. It was my emergency. I had no idea what you were going to do to me. My friends said come home. This condo is not my home. It is where my stuff is. I need a home. I need someone to take me in and let me get my life back together. I need my friends. I hope you understand. God bless us all.