I still dont like it when people stay over
I Still Don’t Like Having People Stay Over
When I was little, my even littler cousin came to stay with us for a few days. I hated it and I hated her. Me and my brothers were cruel to her in that way that only kids can be. I mean we went to town on her. Probably made her cry every single time we saw her. By the end we had gone well above and beyond what you can chalk up to boys being boys. The worst part is she remembers it. She’s early 20s now but if she ends up hating herself or whatever I wouldn’t even blame her. That’s the kind of kids I was. Pulling little girls hair till they called for their mum, throwing stones at people’s roofs, and just being a turd in general. I don’t even know if I’ve changed much because I still detest having to spend time with people. Family road trips are hell; even the ones that just take an hour. This is probably why we don’t do much of that stuff at my house. I mean I’m okay with meeting you there, but driving there with people borrowing my snacks, and looking out of MY window gets on my pubes. Yea I’m one of those. I don’t mean to be but damn I don’t enjoy people’s company sometimes. So I’ll read a book the whole way there so I don’t have to talk and probably leave a day earlier than everyone else so I can recharge before they return. Those few hours before everyone else comes back are the best. I even have a whole routine I do. This girl Jackie taught me how to cook spaghetti better than I knew so I do that, then I buy a two liter coke and that’s it. I run away so I can eat spaghetti and drink coke. I’m just a simple guy with simple needs. The worst was when I was a kid and people came over to spend the night. Now I didn’t have to give up my bed or anything, it was just the fact that I knew they were there that got on my tits. Now that I’m writing this I’m starting to wonder why I’m so easily irritated. I didn’t scowl or anything to make them feel unwanted because that’s bad form. It was just so much pressure having them there that I couldn’t handle it. I’d go away for as long as I could and come back late late at night. But not before they went to bed; somehow it seemed important to always say goodnight, and so I did. These days I don’t know how I feel about that stuff but I doubt I’ve changed much. At the very least at least I don’t hurt babies anymore. That counts for something. But on the other hand, I don’t like having people over because I know from experience that that’s how you run out of eggs.