The poet is present

A short poem dedicated to the biggest piece of shit neighbors that ever existed in the history of shared walls:

embolism, aneurysm, heart attack or stroke
fall down the stairs and break your neck
or eat something and choke

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Lacking processes to process this.

This whole shit with the neighbors has left me feeling… just… sorta bad and an unreachable little pang somewhere inside. I’m not good at conflict, I hate it and it always makes me feel gross… Even if I’m not directly involved, it doesn’t really matter. It still makes me feel that way. Bad and sick and guilty and embarrassed, ¬†ESPECIALLY when it’s something I can’t just… peace out from. Something I can’t just leave behind when it’s over because at the end of the day I still have to live next to these fucking people. I’ve been having nightmares, the past couple weeks, that I can hear their music coming through the wall, and then he wakes up and rages and freaks out on them. That’s how much the concept stresses me out. Literal nightmares. That might seem stupid and it feels pretty stupid to me but I can’t fucking help how I feel. I really can’t. I can’t rationalize away those thoughts and feelings yo. And that’s basically what happened today and the whole thing has left me feeling distinctly not awesome. I’m trying my best to shake it off and move on with my goddamn life, and maybe writing it down like this will help me do that, I dunno. I know it fucking sucks and they are being huge inconsiderate total ass douche fucks but honestly this¬†makes me feel worse inside than waking up to their shitty douchbag music. I don’t know what to do, I know I’m not the only person effected, it’s not just about me. I just hate it and hate living in an apartment and hate being an adult and I just want to hide forever in a tiny blanket ball. Buuuut I can’t do that. So instead I’m going to eat some chinese food and drink some spiced rum and try to chill the fuck out. Have a good one if you can guys.¬†