1. You folded up my washing, that is almost dry but not quite. You did this because you always think you know best and you don't want me hanging around your house, but you come to say goodnight to me and want to chat. I don't want to chat, because there's no point in doing so, because you won't ever listen to me. I am like a child to you, and you will never take my advice, nor will you ever take me seriously. You think the same things about me as I do about myself, and that is more damaging than if you thought differently.
2. I think that you think that I am incapable, and hopeless, and not qualified enough, without a certain depth that is required to succeed.
3. I am angry that I can't say any of this to you, because it'll only result in you being right, as always. You'll never consider the possibility that you might be wrong. Nor the possibility that I might be right.
4. I have accepted that this is your house, and that I haven't really got a place here. I cannot, however, accept that you also hold jurisdiction over my clothes.
5. I need to move out.
6. I am feeling hopeless because everyone else's life is moving on, whereas mine seems to be one dead-end job after another without any semblance of love. I am travelling the world but distancing myself from all of my friends, who forget me. It's easy to do.
I want to cry or shout. I will probably do neither.
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