I feel like I’m in prison with no hope for parole. The days stretch out before me an endless chain of temper tantrums, juice boxes, and messes.
The other day Sister #3 and I had an argument about how perceptive she is. She claims she’s super sensitive and can tell what people are thinking just by how they act or re-act. She told me how she knew what I had complained to our other sisters about before they even said anything.
I told her that’s probably because she knew that her actions were wrong and that any normal person would complain about the way she was acting. She denied that claim, saying it was because I was acting judgmental.
If she were so fucking perceptive she would see how this living situation has depressed the hell out of me. It’s killing me and I can’t take much more. The messes, the noise, the not being able to read or write, the having to constantly be on guard lest my stuff continue to get ruined. I can’t do it much longer. I just don’t know what to do.