Passive-Aggressive Fighting


Jenise and I are Sisters, roommates, and friends.

Friends fight. Roommates fight. Sisters absolutely fight.

Right now, Jenise and I are in the middle of a perfectly ridiculous fight. And the only reason I’m writing this is because I know that it will piss her off that I’m talking about it online.

I know better. Right now, I don’t care. My feelings don’t matter to her, so her feelings don’t matter to me. She refuses to hear my point, so I’ll express my point elsewhere. I know….passive aggression at its most diabolical. I might pray about it later, but probably not. Because I’m not sorry.

The subject of the fight is not important. Suffice it to say, it’s an event that happens too occasionally for me. The fight emerges from our reactions to the event. Jenise goes about her daily routine as if nothing is out of the ordinary. I, on the other hand, freak out like a mental patient. Inevitably, we exchange words. Harsh words on her end; carefully placed words on mine. I know that I could vomit out the first words that come to mind, but that would annihilate our relationship, and I don’t want to do that. So she assumes this self-righteous, condescending, equally passive-aggressive tone with me, and I breathe my way through the exchange, but in my head, I’m slamming her against the wall by her neck.

I have rage issues. My passive aggression keeps me from active aggression. I need help, but help costs money that I don’t have, so I stay damaged. Back to the subject.

I don’t get angry with Jenise because the event doesn’t bother her as much as it does me. I get INCENSED when she blows off my freaking out, when she doesn’t acknowledge that my world—and my daily routine—is turned upside down and nothing can be done about it. I don’t have the luxury of normalizing the event, because it affects me the most. She could actually contribute to the event not happening by being more responsible for her own stuff, but she chooses not to do that.

She’s at work, blissfully oblivious to her part in this event, and I’m wandering the streets like a homeless vagrant. Actually, I’m flopping at Barnes and Noble until they kick me out or my battery dies, whichever comes first.

I’m so glad that troubles don’t last always.

Praying for the self-control NOT to do what I’m thinking.




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