him putting my stuff into puddles of waters, possibly ruining cords and plugs and electronics, and me being upset about it is “my antics” that I “need to stop” to dad. nothing of mine is important. he can break it, he can touch it. he doesn’t care. I hate it. I hate it so much. nothing is mine, nothing is private. I can’t hide anywhere. I can’t have anything in here.
I need to get of here. I’m miserable here. I have no control over my personal things, they can be moved and touched and removed without my consent and if I raise my voice about it and get upset I’m told it is my fault for being upset. I can’t be comfortable here