Have you ever had something extremely dear to you? Something so deep and intimate that you wouldn’t share it with a single soul unless they went through vigorous Hunger Games type training before they were even considered worthy to take a glance at it? My journal is that to me, the singular most intimate object I own straight beneath my very own heart and soul. All that I feel, all that I am, has been recorded in the pages of my journal and for someone to so impertinently read it, as if they were worthy of such intimacy with me, is the highest form of insult that could be bestowed upon me.

It is assumed that everyone in this world has been raised with the notion of respect, even so, within school settings respect plays a major role in teacher child communication. It is one of the key values that is taught since birth… to everyone it seems except for my roommate.

To give you a general overview of our relationship. I live by the “Please don’t touch my stuff without asking. Thank you 🙂 ” …[note the smiley face, seeing as I do endeavor to remain sincere even with strangers]… kind of rule and I had thought she  lived by the same rule. It became quite obvious however that that was not the case. She was more of the “I will use it and just put it back where I found it.” type. Which, to be completely honest, bothered me however I saw no reason to create tension over it. Until she began eating my food… no more like leaving almost nothing in the container and feigning ignorance when questioned about it. And that was the beginning of the end. Well one of the various starts… But that’s a conversation for another day. Today we speak about my journal.

Writing in my journal has always played a major role in keeping me sane, it has seen me through extreme times of darkness and brought me out of dark holes I so often sink into. Writing is the only reason I survive happily on this planet. One can imagine how personal the journals I keep must be… and they are. Apart from my extremely uncouth-ed roommate, the only other person who has caused such insult to me was my mother [That I know of, seeing as no one in this world seems to have a shred of respect for privacy]. Now imagine how intimate my journal must be now if it caused strife between myself and the woman who birthed me. A feud that lasted over 2 years, that escalated to the point where we almost completely severed ties with one another (though legally I was still her dependent however our relationship took a downward spiral where we just flat out ignored each other). A relationship that took many years after to repair itself and still, the cracks show of the injustice. And for my roommate, the stranger she is, to think it is okay to cross a line so intimate baffles me. I wonder what went through her mind as she picked up my very personal looking journal, paged through it and begun reading. The part that baffles me even more is that she did not bother to keep my most intimate encounters to herself, no, she went out and told even more strangers about what she read. Strangers, who I’ve barely known for a few months.

I can’t adequately explain the emotion I feel, I’m torn between betrayal, hurt, disrespect and the feeling that comes about when your privacy is so invaded that you just sit and cry cause that’s all your body can think to do to attempt to process it. How is it that she can go and do something like this and still keep the friendly roommate facade going? The level of two-faced-bitch you have to be in order to pull of such a thing and sleep well at night. I began to feel the familiar burn of wrath boil from the pit of my soul, the need to hurt her the way she hurt me… then I thought above it. I do not want to be that girl. The type that’s fueled by vengeance, or seeks to destroy her the way she’s destroyed the trust I once had. However, I am unable to see the way forward. Right now as I sit and write this post, the question of progress continues to sit idly in my mind.

A dear friend of mine, who had in fact told me of the whole invasion- though it was only after months; said that it would not be wise to start tension within the roommate-relationship seeing as it’s our final exams in a week and her roommate, another dear friend of mine, stated that it had already happened… nothing I can do or say could change what’s already occurred. I agree with both… however this entire year has given me reason to question whether or not I want such a person in my life. A person who can not simply respect me enough to understand boundaries is not the kind of relationship I would want. And I know what you’re probably thinking, “You’ve done something this personal to her. I’m certain of it” well in reality I haven’t. Like I said above in not so many words, I strive to be the best person I can be and the best person in this situation I have been. I have not touched her stuff without permission nor have I opened any of her cupboards without permission. I do not use her stuff often when she offers (that’s just because I was raised not to take without giving so I felt like I could not give her the same so I decided not to) and I ensure that even when I have used something, I return it back to it’s original place. I have given her that level of respect and that’s the level I deem minimum.

The way forward is a difficult one. One I have to deal with after the exams are over, my emotional instability is concerning and dealing with an issue such as this creates reason for me to let it go for now. And that’s why I have turned to my blog. As a means to let go of the emotions I feel. That and twitter, for my more violent internal abuse. I just hope I can make it to exams in one piece. The mounting fear engulfs me ever day. Every-time I look up at the calender.

But for now, I struggle on…

With hurting Love


P.s– my tweet, the featured image was one of the various types of methods I used to get past it. It’s not the most forgiving tweet but it so adequately summed up my feelings towards the whole situation. I ask for forgiveness for those who find it too strong, or distasteful however the entire situation that it arose from dictates such action. xx