Risk

I'm a bit wound up at the moment, having just sent off a lengthy reply to a great friend who is looking out for everybody's best interests. It, once again, has to deal with the money situation left over from the HoL and the seemingly growing mistrust between the various camps that left that POS house. I say the term 'camps' and regret in some ways, but in others I don't. I think this may be because when the "hands-off" landlord would not leave us the fuck alone during the lease-renewal time I eventually went around and asked for a consensus on whether or not we would be living there again. The votes were almost evenly split, but it was the abstentions that threw it in the favor of "NO." With that vote I called the landlord and told him that we would not be renewing the lease.

Soon after that the "YES" voters took the abstaining voters and signed a new lease without telling the "NO" voters about it. Just because we didn't want to live in that house again didn't mean that we didn't want to live anywhere near the others..but the fact that really upset me about them signing the new lease was when I was upstairs and heard two of my roommates talking in the pot-smoking room about a new lease. When I went down to ask where it was, they just closed the door on me and continued talking. It hurt me to think that they would be taking out their anger on not living in that house again on me, but I guess since I was the one who actually said "NO" and called the landlord, I was the only one that could have been blamed.

It was with that act that myself and the two people I am currently living with went out and looked for apartments. The other two people wanted an apartment at the opposite end of Grounds, and, being without other friends who wanted me to live with them, I decided to just go along with it. I have to say that I do like the location and I love my apartment, but it's the separation that bothers me.

And with the recent squabbling over the remainder of the security deposit money and the blatant theft that the person who closed the door on me committed, old wounds are being reopened. I have to choose my words carefully. I have to not disturb the peace more than I have done in the last year. I have to allow myself to take a back seat for the time being, no matter how much I may occasionally want to be the one who finally solves this once and for all.

My words are harsh and must be tamed before I speak. If I wasn't constantly on patrol for what I say then I would probably have few to no friends. Writing gives me an opportunity to filter what comes out of my mind. It's difficult, however, to write somebody a note when you are face to face with them, rather than just saying it. This is why I refrain from arguing with people in person for the most part. This is why I will quietly sit back when people say things I disagree with, regardless of how strongly I feel about it. I'm scared of what I would say to these people.

I've already spoken without thinking to people many times before and the effects of my words are not usually what I intend them to be. I am sharp; I am poison. My words hurt at first but then the hurt spreads and more pain or anger takes their place. Unfortunately, there is no cure for words. Apologies only go so far. The spoken word is a powerful tool that can bond, love, help, destroy, condemn, and cast out. The written word has the same power, but at least with writing, I can see it, I can change it, and I can erase it before I release it upon the world. But with either one of these two options, there is the risk of saying too much, saying too little...and doing both, but meaning neither.