Dear Universe,
Why do you hate me so? Why create such a constant struggle?
Why did you have to make me move back home, where I have to battle depression and anxiety everyday? Did you think it would be entertaining to watch me try to reason with the unreasonable? Is it fun for you when my mother makes lists in her head of ways to make me crazy?
And when I am set to move out in June, does it give you an extra surge of pleasure to cut my boyfriend’s pay at the same time, forcing him to move out of his beautiful apartment and possibly far, far away from me? You just love adding that dash of bitter to my sweet, don’t you?
I would love to continue this lovely self-pity party, but oh Universe, you have done it again. I have too much to do. Asshole.
Bye.
