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May. 16th, 2009 09:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kbkThey've gone shopping, I think, and I breathed a sigh of relief when they left. I didn't sleep - I tried, but I was hungry so I got up and ate and then I was awake and then I realised I'd probably get woken up this morning and I may as well just push on through. But that's not why I'm posting. It's yet another complaint about her.
She talks a lot. Like, a lot. It's practically a family joke, that she talks a lot. I was sitting here reading and I could hear her talking in their bedroom and it really...
I don't know why it pisses me off so much. I mean, I'm fairly sensitive to sound, I guess: when there's noise, I listen, and when it sounds bad, I wince. I've never been fond of high noises, so when she reaches screech-point, that's no fun, but that doesn't happen very often. And I don't like yelling, which she also does on occasion; I don't like when people fight, even a little, and I don't know where that's from but it may well be fear of my own temper.
(A little while back, I wanted to scream. I was alone in the house, probably no neighbours, nobody to hear, and I was messed up and wound up and I wanted to scream. And I couldn't. I opened my mouth and nothing came out. Because I'm just so used to holding it all back that I don't know how not to any more.)
I'm still all kinds of pissed off and twisted up about mum dying and that's probably what's really feeding this.
Also, I don't have much patience and I don't like intrusion on my space, be it physical or aural or freaking psychic. I like comfortable silences and desultory chats and not having to listen to a ten-minute dissertation on subjects I could not possibly care less about, complete with repeats and banal tangents.
I learned, at some point, not to interrupt people. I used to be such a show-off, because I was smart and I knew it and I wanted everyone else to know it as well; I still would be if I had anything left to be proud of. But I got the message that you let other people talk first. So maybe the real problem is that with all this talking she's doing... when the hell do I get to speak up?
She talks a lot. Like, a lot. It's practically a family joke, that she talks a lot. I was sitting here reading and I could hear her talking in their bedroom and it really...
I don't know why it pisses me off so much. I mean, I'm fairly sensitive to sound, I guess: when there's noise, I listen, and when it sounds bad, I wince. I've never been fond of high noises, so when she reaches screech-point, that's no fun, but that doesn't happen very often. And I don't like yelling, which she also does on occasion; I don't like when people fight, even a little, and I don't know where that's from but it may well be fear of my own temper.
(A little while back, I wanted to scream. I was alone in the house, probably no neighbours, nobody to hear, and I was messed up and wound up and I wanted to scream. And I couldn't. I opened my mouth and nothing came out. Because I'm just so used to holding it all back that I don't know how not to any more.)
I'm still all kinds of pissed off and twisted up about mum dying and that's probably what's really feeding this.
Also, I don't have much patience and I don't like intrusion on my space, be it physical or aural or freaking psychic. I like comfortable silences and desultory chats and not having to listen to a ten-minute dissertation on subjects I could not possibly care less about, complete with repeats and banal tangents.
I learned, at some point, not to interrupt people. I used to be such a show-off, because I was smart and I knew it and I wanted everyone else to know it as well; I still would be if I had anything left to be proud of. But I got the message that you let other people talk first. So maybe the real problem is that with all this talking she's doing... when the hell do I get to speak up?
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no subject
Date: 2009-05-16 09:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-16 09:42 am (UTC)And it is her house, and I never wanted to live here for long, and, oh, y'know, if I just made more of an effort...
They're back, and dad's trying to do something, and she's trying to help, and they are both sounding petulant. Joy.
Soon, soon, I'll be gone soon.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-16 09:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-16 03:56 pm (UTC)That. That. I hate that.
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Date: 2009-05-16 05:58 pm (UTC):(
no subject
Date: 2009-05-17 04:14 am (UTC)