I came back home and realized that my room has practically become a storeroom. Then I realized that practically every single drawer of my stuff has been repacked and what I wanted to find is no longer where it used to be anymore and I've no freaking idea where it is now. I curse when I try to freaking find it again, only to realize that another of my drawer has also been repacked. Everytime I can't find my stuff, the anger rises within me and consumes me all over again.
I hate it when people goes through my stuff. I hate it. Period.
It pisses me so bad when I can't find my things and all I feel like doing is curse and scream the house down. It takes so much self-restraint, so freaking much self-restraint to shut up and take deep breaths to contain my anger.
imustbegoodimustbegoodimustbegood.
I'm so going to spend the next few weeks putting my stuff back to where I like it to be and pray that it won't be repacked when I leave again.
Living alone all my life seems like a very good choice.
I hate it when people goes through my stuff. I hate it. Period.
It pisses me so bad when I can't find my things and all I feel like doing is curse and scream the house down. It takes so much self-restraint, so freaking much self-restraint to shut up and take deep breaths to contain my anger.
imustbegoodimustbegoodimustbegood.
I'm so going to spend the next few weeks putting my stuff back to where I like it to be and pray that it won't be repacked when I leave again.
Living alone all my life seems like a very good choice.
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