BUT REALLY REALLY I DON'T GIVE A F-U-C-K.
I think I've either used up all my emotion on this subject or I've gotten to the point where nothing really does surprise me. I've been trying for like an hour to be hurt or upset or angry and I just can't.
So, we eat dinner, which hold very little interest for me, and I retreat to my room. When I come out to get something from the fridge Matt and Mike are talking. MATT SNAPS AT ME AND POINTS BACK TO MY ROOM. I get what I want from the fridge, go back to my room and lock the door. (Only because he has a habit of knocking and then coming in and if I was melting down I didn't want him barging in.)
As I suspected, a little while later he came and knocked on my door and said something along the lines of, "we just had a really serious conversation that I wasn't expecting and do you need anything from the kitchen." No explanation, which is fine, I don't need one, and really I don't want one. Matt texted me a little while ago that Mike's friend is in the hospital and completely unresponsive.
Mike has a friend that's dying and that sucks and I get that. But I don't know how that gives Matt the right to treat me like a dog. I have feelings and compassion and maybe I can't offer advice or comfort, but I can at least sympathize. I don't need to be rushed out of the room.
That's it. I'm done. If I can find a way to move by the 1st of February, I will.
So, we eat dinner, which hold very little interest for me, and I retreat to my room. When I come out to get something from the fridge Matt and Mike are talking. MATT SNAPS AT ME AND POINTS BACK TO MY ROOM. I get what I want from the fridge, go back to my room and lock the door. (Only because he has a habit of knocking and then coming in and if I was melting down I didn't want him barging in.)
As I suspected, a little while later he came and knocked on my door and said something along the lines of, "we just had a really serious conversation that I wasn't expecting and do you need anything from the kitchen." No explanation, which is fine, I don't need one, and really I don't want one. Matt texted me a little while ago that Mike's friend is in the hospital and completely unresponsive.
Mike has a friend that's dying and that sucks and I get that. But I don't know how that gives Matt the right to treat me like a dog. I have feelings and compassion and maybe I can't offer advice or comfort, but I can at least sympathize. I don't need to be rushed out of the room.
That's it. I'm done. If I can find a way to move by the 1st of February, I will.