Since my last life post, my grandma moved in with us and my sister moved into my room. This was at the beginning of June, and has been better and worse than I expected. I’ve barely had to fight for time alone since my parents rearranged the furniture in the living room and fixed the armchairs, but nights… oh, nights. I don’t want to hash it all out again, as I rant about it every morning because it happens every night, so let’s sum it up by saying that my sister won’t let me sleep at night — sometimes literally, to the point that I can’t manage to fall asleep until sunrise — and it’s taken a massive toll on me. I am a zombie, if a zombie couldn’t even gather the strength to eat brains and relied on wine for short bursts of energy to get the bare minimum done.
I always intended to get the hell out of here as soon as my sister moved in because we do not get along as roommates at all; I’m always compromising and I need too much alone time; she wants things however she likes and doesn’t care for the needs of others. I get frustrated easily, and she gets mad and cruel easily. It’s a recipe for disaster, however well we were getting along back in May before we had to share a room. Long story short, my grandma only stays with us six months, then six months with my aunt, then three-six with my other aunt, then back here for six months. So I wanted to be out of here for as much of the six months as possible.