I am beyond sick and tired of your antics! You have so much constant drama fulfilling your life that you are literally killing me. Minute by minute. Second by second. It is not my job to house you. It is not my job to raise you. You have done neither of the sorts for me so technically I owe you nothing. The giving birth to me part…mad props, I couldn’t be me without you. The past twenty nine of thirty of my years…I have done just fine with my father and I.
It would be great if you would stabilize. You have been in four marriages. None of which you could even come close to being faithful in. You have to feather your nest before you make a move because God forbid you have to be alone. Three weeks ago the current man was a psycho. Then you suddenly want to move in with him. Now, you want to move in with me. I totally get that your fourth marriage was a major fail. One reason being because you up and ran off with another man. That affair didn’t turn out the way that you would have liked. Now you are stuck. Here. In Florida. No money. No job. No man. I don’t think that I want you here. In my house.
My life is constantly busy. Majorly stressful. I have a million things on my plate. I wish you could take care of yourself and let me be. I’m sick of it. Tired of it. Over it. I don’t know how else to deal. I’m at the end of my rope. Every time I get stuck in a shitty situation. I dig myself out. By myself. I never had the luxury to have someone to fall back on. Maybe you should try it. Instead of trying to make everyone feel sorry for you. Fucking do something about it. Change it. Make shit happen.
I can’t support you. In any way, shape or form. I’m to the point where you disgust me beyond belief. I’m not going to let you intrude on my family and my life. Turning it upside down just because your life is nothing short of a hot mess.
Grow the fuck up!
