Okay, so, my new discovery is that my roommate is an asshole.

How did I discover this? During a fight we had at 2:30 in the morning yesterday.

Basically, as you know from this Blog, I have skin issues. I hate my skin. I've been on the brink of suicide because of my skin. I still have days when I find it hard to walk because the backs of my legs are so broken out.

Last week, I went to the doctor who gave me a cortizone shot (incase you don't know, you're not suppose to get more than two in a 12 month period because they literally disolve your connective tissue...basically, everything important in your body....I have gone WAY over that in the past 12 months), and told me to not use artificial heat, no matter what. Artificial heat dries out my skin faster than anything else.

Well, it's gotten WAY colder lately.

Matt looked at the thermostat to adjust the temperature (looked at it and adjusted the temperature, but never actually turned it ON...dumbass), and I told him (not in a mean way either) that we couldn't use the heat, but I would loan him my little electric heater so he could heat his room.

Was that good enough for him? Nope.

For whatever reason, the little electric heater that I have isn't good enough because he "doesn't have the room for it" (Note: It takes up a square foot, IF THAT).

I again told him that we couldn't use the heat because of my skin, and he said we have to use it because of a cough that he's had for the past month an a half.

Again, the heater that I offered to loan him would be more than enough to make his room nice and toasty, but for some reason, it's not good enough.

I told him that he should go to a doctor if he's had a cough for a month and a half. His response: "I don't have insurance."

If you've been keeping up with the saga of my life, you know that I no longer have insurance either....that went away with the Cooker.

I told him that I didn't have insurance either, but I still went to the doctor, so I was at least trying to fix my problem. His response was to shrug and basically tell me tough shit.

He wants to "negotiate" and leave the thermostat on 60 Degrees, which would be fine, if it never came on and didn't pump dry air into the apartment.

I can understand that he wants heat, but I'm still kind of confused as to why my heater isn't good enough....it will heat his room more than the air in the apartment will.

As we were yelling at one another, I had to turn and walk away, into my room, slamming the door behind me.

It wasn't something I did for drama, or to make a point, I did it because he was standing in front of me, his hands behind his head and elbows straight out. I had to storm away because the desire to punch him was almost more than I could stand and was growing by the moment. So, instead of swinging at him (where I could have EASILY made contact, mainly because I would have caught him off guard), I just walked away.

The grown up thing to do.

Instead, all of that frustration came out as tears later when I was talking to Robert. Apparently it's not all gone because I'm still really heated about it as I write.

The thing that bothers me most, is that he knows I have skin problems. He knows that it's bad. Hell, when we ran into one another at the mall last year, I was having one of my worst days ever. He knows I deal with this year 'round.

Now that I have something I can do to help my skin not break out so badly, he's standing in the way of that.

He actually said "well, let's try this and if you're skin breaks out, we'll try something else."

Guess what! I've been fucking trying lowering the temperature for the past twenty-something years! It doesn't work.

I know this. Yet, in his mind, I have to break out, have days where my face is so broken out that I don't want to go out in public or even face my family, have days where my legs are so broken out every step I take hurts beyond belief to prove it to him.

Nine more weeks. Nine more weeks of living with him, then I get to go back to my parents house where I have not only problems with my skin, but my asthma. I thought I would at least get a reprieve if I lived in an apartment and paid rent, but apparently, I was wrong.

Apparently, I don't have say in a place where I pay rent.

But, he pays rent too, you say.

True, but his cough can be fixed with antibiotics if he would just suck it up and go to the doctor (Oh, on a side note, this fight happened about six hours after he told me he made seven hundred and something dollars at work that day....he can AFFORD to go to the doctor).

My skin is a chronic condition, the most I can hope for is to have one good day after another. Apparently, my roommate is not going to give me the opportunity to let that happen.