Oh, my God.

I am so fucking sick of you. Every time I'm in the room with you, it makes me feel like you're thinking about me in the completely WRONG sense of the look, and I always feel like you do something to me in my sleep, and that's why I sleep with my door shut and locked, because I haven't been comfortable around you for a year and a half. Going to New York City for Christmas didn't help at all. If I didn't have to live with you, Mike, believe me, I wouldn't. You are getting on my last nerve, and if you think for a second that I have any feelings for you, you are horribly mistaken. You are old enough to be my dad, maybe even my granddad, and I don't want anything to do with you anymore. You're just like Dad - checking on me every once in a while. Now wonder you're brothers. But you are getting on my last nerve, and I want you gone. Mom and Dad will never know this (I hope) but I don't want you living in the house. If it were up to me, I'd have you kicked out of here in a heartbeat, but sicne it's their choice and not mine, so please just leave me alone. Please. I just want to live my life without you interfering. You just need to leave and let me be. You are on my last nerve, Mike, and you should leave.