it’s always you the one who brings over her friends and your partner.

it’s always you the one who makes overly loud noises in the kitchen and runs around the house because you’re unable to do four tasks at once. Yet you still try.

yours are the ideas that get done and yours are the plans for what happens in the house. the plans start with you and unless they are of your approval, they rarely go through.

yours are the routines and plans that clash with [REDACTED] and mine.

this house is yours.

you have there drawers worth of ingredients in the pantry because you always keep them full to the brim and neither confirm nor deny that we can share.

and when we ask whether we can take some of your ingredients you always say yes– consenting through your grinding teeth and with your vision lost. Because you always do that. And whenever you can think of repayment of any kind for the most menial shit you will always put it on the table.

because yours are the rent payments and the utilities. and even though we ask for mercy and some days of buffer when rent arrives early, you’re still preying like a harpy over our heads asking for a deadline on our side of it. even if it came early this month by almost a week.

and i don’t know what to say.

you aren’t actively a bad person.

but you partake on a lot of dynamics that make you somewhat unapproachable at times and straight up corrosive at others. you have no care of will about others because your worldview is a narrow cone to your hyperfixations and interests. and we don’t dare call you out on it. because we feel like that would destroy or at least wreck you.

you aren’t a hazard to our mental health. but you also aren’t a savior or helpful.

this place that we’ve started calling “home” as of lately is nothing but your own throne of merits, ideas and dreams. and it feels like we, the other two, are just crew on your ship to whatever the fuck you want to do.

you can and have been empathic towards [REDACTED] and i. you have partaken in dynamics with us that are helpful with home tasks, with sharing quality time and co-living.

but alas. in your head, it really is out of sight, out of mind.

and sadly, it seems that neither [REDACTED] nor I cross your mind– or path– that often, since you seem to only give a fuck when complaints arise or when you need some form of help.

you aren’t easy to help. you ask and accept help when cooking but then have a meltdown when you get overwhelmed by the very dynamic that you asked for.

you’re skirmish, lost between many ideas and missing out on the details of what you do– you rush and run to tasks as if your ideas were always overflowing from your head into the void.

and this house is your very reflection, with every day, every routine, every breakfast, every day. blissfully unaware for yourself. painfully blind from others' perspectives.

and i wish i knew how it help or how it portray this to you.

because it sometimes hurts to do things at home when you’re around.

and we don’t want you gone. you’re not bad. but god damn, do we sometimes wish you were not only aware but also responsible for your own actions.