She told Dad that I went to Derek's while he was at work to hang out with his mom. She has gone crazy.

And then- pretended it never happened.

Whatever.

I give up.

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I'm tired of not having an entire place of my own. I'm tired of my space being invaded and my stuff strewn about- I'm tired of missing shirts or paint brushes or shoes. I'm tired of having people ask me where my stuff is without really asking to borrow it. It's more of "where is it- I need it" instead of "hey, do you think I could borrow such and such? Oh, hey, thanks, where is it?"

UGH.

I NEED TO MOVE OUT. I'M FEELING CLAUSTROPHOBIC.

THIS NEEDS TO STOP.

Derek and I talked about moving the other night. It was exciting. Nobody gives you a manual as to when we do such things.

my parents moved out when they were my age- Why can't I do so too?