I’m so sick of you, and all the things you do. Stop being nice, stop trying to help, stop talking, stop breathing, just stop.
You. You are in my head and in my home, and you make me insane.
You make my head hurt, you make my skin crawl. You pull at all the little threads and then you start again.
You talk all the time, but you never listen. You contradict, which is rude, you interrupt, which is ruder.
You make me want to scream. And it is all your fault. Just for being you.