i’ve had it with my landlords.

i’m seriously, seriously tired of this shit.

no hot water? i’ll deal with it.

a cold house? it won’t kill me but might give me a cold.

bursting into my room no matter what time of the day, or night, and sometimes not even bothering to knock? try my best to live with the fact that my privacy is being pretty much ignored.

my landlords’ daughter touching my phone? change passcode every three days.

same little demon touching my computer? go to jail for all the smut on my hard drive and safari history confront her about it.

being insulted in the face repeatedly? not like i haven’t been bullied before.

but this, this crosses every single boundry there is between landlord and a tenant.

they just cant dig through my trash!

it seriously just pisses me off and angers me to the point of tears and i. don’t. cry. ever. very rarely.

why someone would even go through my trash i can’t understand. 

how they have the nerve to criticize me for throwing away old food that is still “perfectly fine” i can’t even fathom. 

i’m sorry, didn’t know you had it in you to actually go through my trash bag and feed my old milk to the cat.

i know my mom is nosy so i’ve learned to keep diaries hidden and shred notes and other pieces of paper. i’ve been called paranoid but wow, it’s never come in as handy as it has now.

did they dig through it just this once? do they do it all the time?

i’m just mortified by the possibility of them going through my trash when i empty the bin in my bathroom after my periods. 

i guess that’s why i’m so upset - because i was about to empty the bin along with the old food (i’m not gonna eat anything where the date on the food has passed no matter how “fine” it is according to my landlords) from my fridge.

i feel like jumping off a bridge right now - if the impact doesn’t kill me the hypothermia will.

there is just some things you can’t do. 

i don’t wanna see them

i don’t wanna talk to them

i don’t want to have anything to do with them

i thought i was ready to pack my bags and go home the last time they pissed me off but it was nothing compared to this.

i don’t go into their floor, i don’t dig through their rooms and their things but i’ve lost all hope in them not doing the same with my room and my things.

it feels like nothing is safe.

that i’m not safe.

i’ve never wanted to leave this house more than i do now.