Please don’t mind me. I just need a safe place.
For the record, most of my entire fucking life was spent inside this house. I barely went out with friends. I barely went anywhere.
Right now, I finally graduated from school, I finally have my own job. I’m finally getting somewhere. And yet, I’m still living here, in this house where I locked myself up for the entirety of my life.
You praise me for being a homebody, a good girl with no vices, always following your orders, never putting a step out of line. Do you know how tired I am of catering to your desires? I’m sorry that now that I have my own job I want to go out with friends, to enjoy my life, to love. I’m sorry it bothers you that I frequently go out now. I’m sorry if I got into a relationship.
Did you know? The only reason I never go out, why I’m such a good girl is because I was afraid? Of you? I never went out because you were always there dogging my steps. Literally. I can’t go anywhere if it doesn’t mesh with your desires because you’re the one who takes me to the meeting places. I can’t stay out late because you get tired of waiting to bring me home. I can’t go out if you have a prior engagement. I can’t go out if you have a sudden engagement. I have to schedule everything with you. I have to schedule my schedules with you. All my friends know you, know your m.o. They had to learn and resign themselves to the fact that inviting me out means inviting you along with me. They understand. And they don’t judge me for it. They never say anything except, you care for me so much.
Why can’t you see how blessed they make me feel for that? But you can only see things through your own clouded, judgmental eyes.
I’m tired, and so close to giving up. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.