The title pf this blog pretty much sums up the reason why I’m writing it. I’m going to say right now that there’s not one thing I will write in this entry that I haven’t tried to verbalize with mom and those around me more than once. The problem is that they have a hard time listening to me say it and therefore I will write it and maybe then they will start listening.

People tend to get the wrong idea about why I prefer this place over Pullen. They seem to think that it’s my intention to be around people and make new friends and that I should enjoy the common room and having people around me, ETC. Well for the longest time, I’ve told them until I’m blue in the face that my apartment is where I live and that I don’t like going downstairs to eat. I wish mom and everybody else would stop believing what’s not true about me. You see, it occurs to me that they believe the reason I don’t like being around people is because it’s not part of my daily routine, that I’m used to being by myself ETC. Unlike people in my life, I don’t allow routines to dictate every aspect of my life so that’s not it. If anything, I wish the routine could be that I always eat in my room because I don’t like to be bothered. Even though I’ve had my moments of polite and pleasant conversation with some people around here, go ahead and ask me if I care if I ever talk to them again. For that matter, ask them if the highlight of their days and lives is hearing from me. I guarantee that our answers would definitely be the same. They probably couldn’t care less about me just like I couldn’t care less about them. Yet day in, day out the same conversation between mom and I occur….that I should go downstairs, eat down there, play games with them ETC with me denying that it would make any sort of difference. Despite this, I’m forced to go down for every supper and I only stay long enough to eat and that’s it. Do you know why I don’t like being around them? Plain and simple, the answer is because I don’t like them and it’s not because they did anything wrong. I just don’t like them. They aren’t my friends but Chris is. Does he live here? Do the girls live here? No they don’t and the fact is that I made Chris a promise that I would never replace him as my best friend. Let me be totally clear on one thing. Not counting staff, there are seven other clients that live in this building. Well, for each other client that lives here, it’s one “f” I don’t give. I could use the full word but then I realize it’s the internet I’m using and knowing how god damn nosey some of these clients can be, I wouldn’t want to say something if they were to use the same site and come across this entry, thus giving them all the incentive in the world to stick their nose where it doesn’t belong in my life again. The truth is I have a lot of pain no matter what I do these days and let’s not forget what’s been happening with mom recently, not that this is anybody else’s business around here. Yet they keep interfering in my life, not leaving me alone and staff say they can’t tell them to mind their own business even though I request that action to be taken. Well, it’s a good thing I don’t know who those people are because if I did, it would hurt. The worst part about this is that if I hear them bitching and complaining, never once have I complained. I’ve stayed out of it and I wish they could do the same for me. But no that can’t. They have to keep being nosey and intrusive and it’s to the point now where I don’t want to live here anymore if I can’t have my privacy.

If you ask me what kind of changes need to be made in regards to this building, I would say get rid of that damn common room. Don’t tell me it’s my choice whether I want to go down because mom has made it clear that as long as that area remains an option, I will be forced to go down there unless someone in a position of power got ahold of her by phone and told her “Jeff is not allowed down in the common room anymore for (insert reason,) and we feel it’s better for him…” or something to that effect because no matter how many times I tell mom I hate it down there, I’m forced to go down anyway. This is why it needs to come from someone in a position of power. NUMBER 5 IS WHERE I LIVE….IT IS THE PLACE I PAY FOR. I DO NOT PAY FOR THE GOD FORSAKEN COMMON ROOM AND I DO NOT CARE ABOUT ANYBODY ELSE WHO LIVES HERE.

For that matter, if mom knows how much I dislike being around everybody….WHY IS SHE STILL MAKING ME GO DOWN THERE? Chris is my friend. He’s a good friend and I do not want to replace him with one of those people who live here.

Hopefully the message was sent loud and clear this time