A Letter on the Fridge Door

Dear Housemate from Hell,

I do not appreciate your noisiness in the late hours. Please get some oil on your squeaky lock, find another quieter way of locking yourself away from humanity, or change your ways and emerge out of your mundane antisociality.

I do not appreciate your dirty dishes and bags of rubbish lying about the house. No wonder we had a mouse infestation. Pull a finger out and put in your part of this house. After all, we all own our share of it. We should all be responsible for its upkeep.

I do not appreciate your snide remarks and imperatives. Please take a moment to consider how people would feel on being the addressee of your spiteful words. Enough of your snobbery. No one wants it; no one needs it.

I do not appreciate what you’ve become. What gets me the most is that I chose to live with you, back when you were a lovely person. Do you remember that? Now, it’s like you have permanent dark glasses on, and you refuse to see anything in a positive light. You’ve been the source of this misery in this house, casting clouds over everyone’s relationships.

What do you have to say to that?
Probably nothing. You’ll probably just smirk.

The End

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