If there is one person whom I am challenged to love, it is my roommate. She was okay when I moved in with her, but that was until I realized how passive aggressive she is. If there's one thing that I really get frustrated at, it's passive-aggressiveness. It annoys me to no end when she leaves me little notes on my laptop, or texts messages to do this and do that, and it makes me want to flip tables over when I see her tweet trash about me without ever just talking to me face to face.

When I look at my roommate, I see someone God has placed in my life to love and serve. It's to the point where I am 100% aware in my head, "I need to be patient. I need to love her. I need to serve her the way a roommate would want to be served." Basically, if there's anyone I know whom needs my love and servanthood, my roommate is the first one that comes to mind.

But the most obvious to love and serve is also the most difficult to do so. I know I'm a messy person to live with (although I do get proud of the fact that I am at least not a dirty person), and I really do try my best to keep it tame and not get totally out of control, but there are times when things get a little crazy (like during finals) and I expect my roommate to just understand. But she never does. And she tweets about me like crazy instead of just talking to me. And every time she tweets about me, I get super bitter. I drop everything and just clean, even the things she doesn't want me to do, because I know to serve her is to go beyond what she expects. But honestly, I'm not really serving her. My bitterness makes it into an attack. Even though it's not directly hurting her, my mind constantly attacks her, and I often mutter under my breath as I clean.

1 John 3:15 says, "Everyone who hates his brother is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life abiding in him."

I don't know how to be better. It seems impossible to love when I don't want to love; how do I love someone who's so unlovable to me? I don't know how to be better.

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Today is Day 10: 1 Confession. And this was what I wrote:

It's pretty vague, but it's because I don't know who reads my tumblr, and it can be pretty heavy information for others...and I know my brother follows me. Even though he says he doesn't really ever go on, it's still not anything I can just freely post online, not even here. But I also didn't want to do one of those lame confessions that people post because they know people are reading it; those types of answers that are deep and thought provoking for an audience, but nothing that's actually worth confessing since confessions are so private and all. I digress.

Since it was on my mind, I went back to the letter. The letter he sent me the day after. I've never told anyone about it, and I wonder if I should. I think part of me is scared because his letter seems so nice. It seems like I would've given him a chance, or that I enjoyed myself. And that makes me so angry. It makes me angry because if I didn't agree to see him that day, if I didn't let loneliness get the best of me, or if I had just called Megan or someone else to hang out with, everything would've been okay. Actually, I think I was hanging out with Megan that day, and left early to hang out with him, which makes it even worse. It was my fault. My. Fault.

It was my fault.

It was my fault.

It was my fault.

It will always have been my fault.

I could've prevented it.

I could've stopped it.

So is he right? Is it because I liked it? Is it because I didn't say "No" firmly enough, or enough times? I don't remember saying yes, but I also don't remember much of that day anymore.

Why didn't I punch?

Why didn't I scream?

Why didn't I do anything? Anything at all?

I feel like I've moved on, but a part of me will always wonder. Would I be the same person now if that had never happened? I feel like I wouldn't have made as many mistakes as I have since freshman year of college. But maybe I'm wrong, maybe everything would've happened anyway.

Who knows.

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