Utter and Complete Internal Choas. My Own Hell.

Two days ago I had a major emotional breakdown, over seemingly nothing. I was sick that day, we were in the car on our way to Oshawa, then Barrie. I was supposed to go home that night to see my mom, spend some time with my brothers and sister, go visit my dad and maybe even some of my friends. I was looking forward to the time away from the house. Things here are crazy and I was getting so stressed, between the place being a constant mess no matter how often or to what extent I cleaned it, the dog always eating the garbage and pissing everywhere and being stuck here with no job so money is tight. I'm trying to get college figured out but things with that are going bad (he doesn't want me to go to Humber says it's in a bad neighborhood and is a bad school, but it's the only one that offers the course I need) He keeps me under his thumb like a tyrant, but what am I supposed to do, I love him, respect him, and he helps me so much...but he just pisses me off so god damned much it hurts. So yes, I was looking forward to going home and getting away for awhile, but on the way back from Oshawa he tells me to call my mom and tell her I'm too sick to come home. So I did. As soon as I got home I helped him sort out his stuff he just got, I went to do laundry and the washing machine was full, like it is every time I go to do laundry, and I was pissed off about that. I went with him to go and drop something off at his friends and on the way home he asked what I was going to do when we got back (expecting me to say sleep probably so he could tell me no and then tell me what he wanted me to do like always) but I said go to bed and cry, he asked why and I told him that I was really stressed about some stuff, he asked me what stuff, and as usual I told him not to worry about it, but he pushed so finally I said about the constant house work and cleaning up after him, our room mate and the dog. How the washing machine and laundry room are always full when I go to use them and the dog in general. I told him I wanted to sell the dog and he freaked out about that, saying that I only wanted to get rid of the dog because I was lazy and didn't want to look after it and put the time into making it a good dog and training it. Which may be true, but I didn't want the dog to begin with, he asked if I would mind having a dog around and I said no, it would be nice, assuming he meant if he was to get a dog, which he did, but instead of taking the responsibility for it he gave it to me. I don't want a puppy or the responsibilities of having one. But he says that part of being an adult is learning to deal with unwanted responsibilities, maturely and properly, and he is right. But right now I really don't need or want it, not to mention I hate the fucking thing, I don't think I even like it a little bit. But he said he would be severely disappointed in me if I were to get rid of it, and the only thing I fear worse than him being mad at me is him being disappointed in me and that if I were to get rid of the dog just because I'm too lazy to look after it and love it that not only would I be the first person he even knew or met to be that irresponsible but also that I wouldn't deserve him or any other dog, ever. It hurt really bad when he told me that. As soon as we got him I did exactly what I said I was going to do. I went in the room and started to cry. For at least an hour I cried and as I cried the pain just got worse and worse, the little voice in my head more and more vicious. "you're so fat and ugly who could ever love you?", "you can't even want yourself so what makes you think anyone else wants you?", "you're not good enough, you don't deserve him, no wonder he doesn't want you, you're too fat", and thoughts of my childhood and all the bullying and teasing I went through flashed through my head and it just kept getting worse. He came in and asked me what was wrong, said he was sorry for being so harsh and that he didn't mean to be so stern at times, all worried that he had been the cause of it. I told him not to worry that I'd be fine eventually, he pushed and prodded, trying to get and answer and then said he loved me and had to try and get some sleep because he was going to spend the day with Michelle the next day. My heart sank and I felt the tears brim in my eyes again as he walked out and closed the door, the little voice in my head already bombarding me with thought of him making love to her, kissing her and playing with her, holding her hand, smiling and laughing. I cried, and cried, and cried. I couldn't stop, after I thought I had run out of things to cry about I got up went to the washroom and cleaned up, grabbed a cup of coffee sat down, he woke up, bumped the table spilling my coffee and cursed at me for drinking his coffee. So I got, told him to drink it, went back in the room and started to cry again. All night I cried, cried myself to sleep. I didn't wake up until 1pm the next day, the dog had been in the garbage again, and he was gone. To spend the day with Michelle. I sat on the couch surfing the web all day until he got home at 6. He walked in the door, sat down, said something that I can't remember, oh where's my hug? he asked me, I replied, you didn't give me one. I'm the one that came through the door, you're supposed to get up and give ME the hug he said. I just looked at him, shut the laptop got up and went in the room, shit the door and started to cry again.I heard him turn a movie on and fall asleep. I cried for awhile, not really sure how long he came in after a bit and made me get up and watch a movie with him, said he was going to make me stay up all night with him because he loved me and didn't want me to wallow in my depression. We stayed up until 3am then he told me to go to bed, literally told me. I sat there and looked at him, solemnly, wishing he would come and sleep in there with me for the first time in months. But no luck, so I got up and walked to the room, closed the door laid down and cried again, and again and again until I finally passed out. I woke up twice during the next day but didn't finally get out of bed until 7pm (after crying a bit because as I was laying in bed alone for a month and begging him to come and sleep in there with me even just once, I realized that Tasha was coming over this weekend and I know that he will be sleeping that bed with her and knowing that hurts so god damned much) I took a hot shower, shaved, ,brushed my teeth and got dressed. Determined to try my best to cheer up a bit (even if I couldn't quite understand why I was still so upset) around 8 we went and got some dinner, came home and watched a few movies. After which we had a short talk about he felt I needed to get out of this rut, that I have so many positive things in my life to live for and be happy about and that I need to stop being so negative and saying that I'm fucked up because and I quote "You're not fucked up, you don't have any chemical imbalances, you're not bi-polar, you're not broken, no, you are not Jory, I'm sorry."....I knew it. I was just waiting for him to say it. He is thinking that just because this happened two days after we went to go and see my friend Jory who was in the psyche ward in Kingston for having a severe emotional melt down, that I was somehow trying to be her and probably thinks I'm doing all of this for attention. Well fuck him, that really pissed me off and hurt more than he knows. I know I'm not Jory. And as much as I envy her in some ways, I don't want to be her, and I don't wish I could be her. I have problems, I know I do. And it was sheer coincidence that this all happened so soon after seeing her. It was just a build up of stress and events in my life that upset me and caused me emotional pain. So here I am 7 am and I haven't gone to bed yet. It's been 12 hours since I cried last and I'm gonna go cry again. I don't know if it's a sense of loss(of something I never had but only wished I could have), a broken heart, or just my own insecurities.