Today is our second anniversary. Here I am lying in bed listening to you bang around in the next room. I’m flinching at the sound of every crash and thud, and my eyes are squeezed tightly together – partly in a vain attempt to somehow block out the noise, and partly out of sheer frustration. Even the muffled sound of your voice through the wall is annoying me at the moment.
When I first moved in, I never expected things to be like this two years down the line, but I think it was time that I was really honest with you – I’ve been going out of my way to avoid you lately.
I’ll come home, and if I can see that your car is here then I’ll turn around, walk back down the road and wait until you’ve gone out. I know it’s cowardly, and I know it’s childish but sometimes I just can’t face talking to you. There have even been times this past year when I’ve felt that working nights was a blessing because I wouldn’t have to see you when I got home. Just the other night, I heard your car pull up outside the house so I turned off the light and pretended to be asleep. I’m only 27; I shouldn’t have to live like this…
I don’t want you to think that I’m writing this letter to get at you. You’re a good man at heart and you’ve put up with things from me that no one else would. I’m indebted to you on so many levels. But, I just need to tell you that sometimes the things you do infuriate me. You can be so inconsiderate at times.
Take today for example, I’m off ill from work and all I want to do is sleep – but there you are, sat in the corner of the room in a pool of screws and bolts like a robots miscarriage. I’m not entirely faultless here; I guess I never told you I was feeling unwell so how could you know? But, this is a two way relationship after all and it would just be nice if you took the time to ask before you went ahead and did these things.
I know I’m not the easiest person to live with, and I’ll be the first to admit that I’m unreliable, horribly irresponsible and I can’t deny that I haven’t tested your patience these past two years – even if we don’t always see eye to eye on things.
But for once, I just need you to stop and actually listen to me…
Changing the lock on my door to a combination code does not mean I’m going to stop annoying you by forgetting/losing my keys. You see, it’s not the lock that’s broken – it’s my brain. I’m just going to forget the code instead. So, unless you’re happy to pay for me to have it tattooed on my wrist, let me spraypaint it over the wall, or you’re willing to go all out and have me chipped – then I suggest you get the hell away from my door with that bloody drill and let me go back to sleep.
Your loving Tenant,
P.S – I’m probably going to be a bit behind on next months’ rent – again.