Tolerating or understanding?

There are times when anger just feels like it’s about to burst out from all my pores. Like all the smoke and fire will just fly out of my nose and ears. Something as small as C asking me if he can use my LAN connection when the cable is still plugged to my computer. Like him asking me for a tenner even when he knows that I have only 30 bucks in my purse and to my name. I feel a deep, smoldering heat that threatens to consume me. The threat feels so real that I feel I could just implode and dissolve into a small pile of ashes after 3 minutes of internal combustion. The heat just sometimes rises to my face and I can feel it – I can feel the blood vessels expand and all this life fluids are brought on to that thin space just under the top layer of my skin. From the top of my head to my toes. It’s so hot sometimes that I feel like if I submerge myself into a tub of water I’d be able to see and hear the hiss of the steam! I feel like ending every sentence – nay, every word – with 50 exclamation marks.

I feel such peace and quiet when he’s not here, actually. Today, my brother and his family made plans to spend some time with me at my place. C stayed away to make way for them; surely, a flatmate is not what my brother is expecting when he comes to visit his elder sister. The plan was for after lunch, but because it rained, it had to be postponed to dinner. Oh what bliss! I had a few hours to myself to do whatever I want. What freedom! It’s such a joy to not have another laptop in front of mine on my workstation. So refreshing to not hear the irritating termite-like sound of the hurried clicking of the mouse button while he plays his online game. Such a sight for sore eyes for me to see the clear desk in front of me, without the usual clutter of the 2 extra laptops, the mouse device, the assortment of keys and small rubbish, the used mugs, the empty food packets. So relaxing to not have to worry about anyone walking behind me, looking over my shoulder to watch what’s on my computer screen. Privacy. How wonderful.

I hate the person I have become. I turn inward, even from myself. I trust no one, yet I long to be trusted. I don’t want to depend on others, yet I want to considered as dependable. I want to be calm, yet my temper is on hair trigger most of the time when C is near. This is not love. This is not understanding. This is toleration gone wrong. An overstayed welcome. When he moves on, he literally will move on forward. I will be the one who will need to get used to him not being here any more. I want him to move on now but the bugger is so down and out he doesn’t even have another place to stay. Somehow I don’t trust him. I have a strong feeling that if he’s out on the streets, he’ll find a way to survive. He can't let himself be homeless now can he? I don’t want to even see his stuff any more. The clutter. It’s clogging up my mind like someone’s stuffing cotton wool into my head and has not stopped. I just want him to leave. Go. Get out of my life. But the many times I told him that he just asks me to give him another few months to get his shit together. I put up with this for so long – by now he’s had so much time, his shit would have time to put their shit together! I’m exhausted. I’m angry at myself. I can't even be strong and stand for myself now. I’m letting him walk all over me. I don’t know who I hate more right now. Him or me.