If you don’t want me to live here, kick me out.

Otherwise, don’t fucking bitch and moan when I won’t clean up after you.

You are an able-bodied person. I am not going to chase behind you and clean up your messes. Warming up bacon on one napkin in the microwave and not cleaning the microwave plate is just stupid.

And if you want me to do something, ask me. Don’t wait until I’m conveniently walking by to ask me to do fifty things because you’re lazy and fucking junky at home.

“Why don’t you do something around here?” I do. Yeah, I spend most of my time cleaning up after you, bitch. Its not my problem when you decide to go ahead and do something (something I specifically told you I was going do) on your own.

You make more than 75% of the messes in this household then you want people to clean up after you.

Lazy, am I? Don’t do anything, you think?

I’ve been cleaning up after you since I was a child. The places we lived never stayed clean because of you.

It stayed clean because of labor enforced by violence when it wasn’t done the way you wanted it.

Since I was a kid. I suffer. I clean up after you. I try to have some time to myself to heal. I steal bits of pleasure. That’s my life. I’m trapped.

You silly abusive bitch.

Oh. And that breakfast you made was fucking nasty so stop tooting your horn about it. Ugh.

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