I think I may have finally reached my breaking point. When people share a living space, compromises have to be made, on both sides. Not just one.
I came home on Friday to more furniture randomly placed in our living area, after relocating the majority of my crafting supplies into my already crowded room. My dining room table, which is worth at least a hundred dollars, is covered in tools and computer parts, unusable to anyone but my second roomate. Half of one couch is covered in more tools and camera pieces, and a suitcase has been sitting in the living room for at least a month. Normally, these kinds of things wouldn't even phase me, but after being told my clutter is too much to live with, I feel, once again, that I don't fucking count. My one roomate does not even pay rent here (due to extraneous circumstances), yet he has as much free reign over space, if not more, than I do. I don't count my furniture as "my space", because honestly, who owns a couch and says no one can sit on it? Or tables that no one else can use? Not me, that's for damn sure.
I guess what I'm getting at is that I'm at a point where telling myself "one more month" isn't cutting it anymore. I want to blow a fuse. I want to stand up for my own damn space and rights as a person. I shouldn't be confined to a room the size of my parents' bathroom. I should have more than a sixth of the freezer space. I should have somewhere to do my work, instead of on a trunk behind a couch. I shouldn't be responsible for dropping of the rent check on time after working two jobs. Bills should not be split two ways between three people.
I cannot wait to be out of here. End of story.
