I told you last night that, if you decided to “work” from home because you can't cope with having one moment of simple adversity, you needed to let me have my space because I had shit to do.
And now I can't focus because you won't stop hovering over me, as if I'm supposed to entertain your whims because you can't handle one simple problem that people deal with on a daily basis.
I want to be left alone. I wish I had a room with a door and a lock so that I could keep you out.