You know what, I’m sorry. It’s my own fault for having expectations or hopes of you. If I didn’t keep tricking myself into thinking, “Maybe something will actually be done when I get home,” then my heart wouldn’t be dragged down every time I walked through the door. If I just imagine that a dust devil rolls through the house and brace myself to clean it up by myself every single day for the rest of my life, maybe then I can be happy. Maybe it’s a mistake to think I could trust you to ever not be lazy and self-centeted. Maybe I need to stop expecting everyone else to love as much as I do. I’m treated like an alien for actually loving people and actually doing as much as I physically and mentally can for them, so that they don’t have to worry about a single thing. Why am I the only one that does this? Why can’t somebody love me the way I love everyone else? If someone provides a roof over your head, food in your belly, endless hobbies, and long term security, why wouldn’t you simply get off of your lazy a**, and clean their house for them? I’ve always helped to clean as a guest in any home. What the hell is wrong with people? You live here with no job. I should be allowed to expect that you clean the house instead of sleeping and procrastinating with useless hobbies.
