TW: there are two curse words.
Listen, okay? I'm going to tell it to you straight. There isn't going to be sugar-coated anything or self-pitying things that make me seem like the victim. I'm not. I was completely in the wrong, and I barely did anything to stop it. It's my fault, and not in the way where you're supposed to hug me and tell me that I was being a totally rational human being or that I was just saying the truth. I'm not, and I wasn't.
So, what happened. Okay.
So we were safe, for a moment, and that was fine. There was a TV show on and Thomas was asleep on the couch and I was kinda creepily pacing around and quadruple-checking that all of the doors and windows were locked and shuttered. Thankfully they were, or obviously Thomas would get murdered. Logan was probably (though he said he didn't like it) cuddling with Patton. Roman was sitting on the couch, listening to ear-worm Disney songs.
That's when the trouble started. (ooooo, suspenseful paragraph and mood change! be intrigued)
I asked Roman to turn down the music a bit, partially because it was getting harder and harder not to sing along but mostly because it would probably wake up Thomas, and that's probably not good, because Thomas needs to sleep so he can remember his lines and if he can't remember his lines then he'll be hated even more by the Fanders because he posts, like, every ten years. I think I phrased it something like: "Turn off that disgusting music, I don't want something like that stuck in my head." Which was rude. I'm not going to lie. And a tad out of character. But I was apparently more high-strung than I thought.
And Roman retaliated with glaring and turning it up louder, which made my anxiety shoot up for a millisecond before I smothered it with anger.
"Okay, if we're gonna play that game!"
I pressed on Teenagers, the first song on my MCR playlist, and turned up the volume to the highest notch.
Ten minutes later we were in this huge argument about the music that Thomas likes most.
Yada-yada, he said something like, "Well at least I'm not dragging him down like you with your depressing songs!"
This, yay for me, pissed me off. I guess I was just frustrated because I've been trying so hard, and I thought things were getting better? Whatever it was, I sort-of screamed at him, "At least I'm not some wanna-be prince with a shitty outfit and an obsession with my own hair! At- at least I try to be there for him while you just cover up his mistakes with that stupid smile of yours! At least I'm not you!"
Congratulations, me. Ya done fucked up.
I... I kinda hate this part. I made him cry. Really hard. I'm a bad guy. I shouldn't have said that, and now he's probably still crying in his room right now, while I'm on the couch and using the freaking Notes app to deal with all this stuff going on inside my head.
Yayyy.
I didn't mean it, of course. Of course I tried to tell him that, of course I tried to apologize, of course I'm going to be thinking about this for years and instead of apologizing just skirt around him. Of course he's probably going to hate me forever and since there's some sort of symbiotic relationship between anxiety and creativity Thomas won't be able to work and then I'll stress him out about the fact that the huge amount of people who watch his videos will start hating him because he'll start slipping and he'll lose his one job and won't be able to find another and suddenly poof we're all on the street and then we're going to die dirty and homeless in some randomly icy Florida winter because of climate change and he's lived here his whole life so now he's not used to any type of cold.
So now I've kinda ruined Thomas' life.
Crap.
I'm aware that this isn't good, I'm writing this within fifteen minutes 'cause I figured I should get it out of the way
