I dont get no trust.
So I get home from work, and there’s Patches, my favorite kitty of the house perched right by the dining room table. She’s there mostly every night, waiting for me to come home so I can turn on the sink in the downstairs bathroom and let her drink from it.
While she’s drinking, I change. My bedroom is anything, but nea and clean right now. That’s mostly because of my mama’s hypocratic ways. You see, if I leave my clothes in the dryer for any reason at all; be it they’re still wet, I’m tired and want to go to bed, going to work…etc…I get into trouble. I get into more trouble if I leave clothes in the washer. Folks I’m talking starting world war 3 kind of trouble. And I can count on one hand, with fingers left over how many times I’ve let clothes alone in the dryer in the past three years I’ve lived here.
My clothes are strewn over my floor, because my laundry hamper is over flowing with even more clothes. This is because, as I said, mamas a hypocriate who leaves her clothes in the washer and dryer for days at a time.
I used to fold them, and finish them for her, but after the last fight that started over me leaving clothes in the dryer to put through a second time because they were wet, I’ve stopped doing mamas laundry, therefore I haven’t had time to do a single load since the week before Christmas.
I have knitting stuff all over my room as well; from my month straight of knitting since thanksgiving. Though those supplies are neatly strewn over my room, packed in boxes, it’s still everywhere.
The funny thing about it, is I know exactly where everything is. I know my heart shoes are under that pile, the yarn I need is in that box, and anything else is strategically placed and remembered.
I noticed I had a drinking glass gone from my room; the one I keep in there for night time…well, my night time, so I don’t have to walk the mile it takes to get to the kitchen. For the past 3 years, I’ve had one in my room, and for the past three years, it always goes missing, turning up in the dishwasher later.
Now, I know that a missing glass is nothing to fret over or go snooping around to find ecause they know very well where it is. It is not in harms way, and is not in any way lost. So why would mama go sneaking through my room?
I’ve grown up with a mother who used to break the locks on my diaries to read what I had written inside, and then get mad when she’d read that I had written about her being a bitch for sneaking through my room and reading my diary.
I’m sick and tired, after 25 years of parents constantly going into my room and sneaking around!! I know she’s just going in there to grab my glass, but still, I feel violated. Do they not think that I am not going to switch it out if it’s dirty?
Are they searching for something else?like drugs maybe? Drugs that I’m obviously not on besides the occasional asprin or mydol? They aren’t going to find anything else besides that!
I cannot WAIT to move out of here. I’ll be 26 in four months, and yes, while I’m still living with my parents, I abide by their rules. They pay the bills, so I don’t complain about what they do to them, but I still paid rent! I think that’s a fair trade for a bit of privacy.
<3,
xoxo
The Ghost in the Breakroom.
There’s a rumor going around every single square inch of this mall that this place, and it’s precessor; Villa Italia Mall was built on an Indian burial ground. As my grandparents owned a house across the street for years before anything, even Villia was built, I know for a fact that my mall was not built upon such a place. My father used to play as a kid here, while it was still a field, and never once ran across any bones, or feathers, or anything that could resemble a burial ground of any sort.
That doesn’t mean that paranormal activity doesn’t exist however. Everyone who has worked here, from the janitorial crew to us lowley security guards have had our run-ins with at least one thing that made us stop in our tracks and develop goose pimples. Mine happens to be every time I work in dispatch.
Things will bump, doors in the office will open or close, sometimes both. Mostly, I can hear someone whistle as plain as day, it comes from the back of our station, and our cameras show nothing. I’ve told my seargent about it and at first he was only agreeing with me to make me feel better. Tonight, just a few minutes ago, he experienced it for himself.
I’m quite skeptical when it comes to hauntings and ghosts and anything that goes along with it, but I still believe it’s possible. I need to see it, hear it, taste it, touch it, and feel it before I can grasp the concept of there being something not on this plane besides me. I’ve had every one of those senses tickled while working here, so I can’t doubt that I’m not alone when working.
Maybe it’s one of the elderly tenants that have passed away coming to check in, or possibly one of our security guards that passed from a heart attack last year stopping by to say hi. Whatever or whoever it is, I wish they’d speak to me or show themselves on our cameras.
<3,
Xoxo!
