It is so hard for me to make sense of why people are the way they are…why I am the way I am…I guess we’re all screw-ups at this point.
First and foremost, you failing to see the legitimacy of my upset this morning is really concerning.
Then again, anybody who gives my kids cause to worry and puts me in a shitty position, well…they should be kicked. Not necessarily in a literal sense, however.
I am too socially vulnerable to try to be friends with anyone. Or maybe I should just choose my friends more wisely.
I absolutely don’t owe you a damned thing.
I have been telling them for a year, “I can handle my shit.” Clearly, I cannot. See, I thought that I could – that I could trust that people would respect me and that they would honor my friendship…that they would not abuse it.
I guess I am a slow learner.
I am, contrary to what you say, a very good person. I help in the ways that I can and I always feel badly when I can’t help, I always try to find someone who can…
I have offered you access to other arrangements and tried to be supportive of your efforts to “get on your feet” – however, YOU ARE NOT MY RESPONSIBILITY.
My kids are my responsibility and I OWE THEM.
Additionally, if you think that I am not well aware of the fleeting nature of this walking-talking life, if you think you can speak to me about God’s land as if I do not know…well, that is frankly just beyond insulting. Except that I do not become insulted by people’s opinion of me when they clearly have no idea that I am lucky to even still be alive and so know all too well about mortality. You are correct, this is God’s land.
Here, mothers and children must be respected.
There is no place for indignant men anywhere near here. I will not tolerate it.
Please do not come near this house until you come to get your things in bags off of the upstairs porch. Please do so at your earliest convenience. I would appreciate it if you would use the driveway entrance and refrain from traipsing across the field as if you owned the place.
You’re a traveller.
I live here…and so do my elderly neighbors across the street and they don’t want to see some dude in a tent first thing in the morning. Nor do they want to hear some guy ranting about YAHWEH (a man-made name, by the way) – you say you don’t – that “you’d never dare” disrespect this house, but you do.
Crocus bloom where your tent was pitched.
Please do not let yourself be seen around here. You crossed the line.
If you’re angry and sputtering with indignance at all of this, check yourself.
Don’t bring it around here.