Man Proves He Has The WORST Neighbors Ever

Man Proves He Has The WORST Neighbors Ever

Everyone has at least one bad neighbor story. Literally everyone. The issue is so common that there's even an Instagram account devoted to posting text exchanges from nightmarish neighbors. It's almost as though neighbors exist only to taunt you, walking the fine line between annoying and illegal so that you can never really do anything about them.

Sometimes it's an issue of thin walls where you get a front row seat to an event you never wanted to attend. Some neighbors are just hella rude and don't pick up their dog poop. 

My bad neighbor story is a bit more in depth than that, although it's also sadder. 

The apartment building that I live in has seemingly thin floors. I know, I know. How can floors be thin? The answer is that I have no idea. They just are. Anyways, the guy who lives above me — let's call him "Bruce," like The Hulk — used to have a girlfriend, and things were never particularly great with them. They'd wake me up around 3 AM on the regular with their fighting; they loved to scream and throw things across the room (at least I *think* that's what was happening). 

I know what you're thinking. "That happens to everyone. Get over it."  Unfortunately, that's not even the "bad neighbor" story. 

After like six or seven months of the incessant fighting, it suddenly stopped. From what I could tell from the fights leading up to it, they had broken up. Glorious peace had fallen upon my apartment. I basked in it, like an idiot. It lasted maybe three days before the "episodes" started. 

The first episode started around  maybe 10 PM. I could hear Bruce pacing across the floor. I imagine him breathing heavily as he did so, a la Greatest Freak Out Ever. He was definitely alone, which makes it so much worse. As he paced, he cried out "F---! F---! F--- you!" 

At this point I'm obviously concerned for his mental health. I mean, this can't be normal, right?

That's when the sobbing starts. Not like the "I had a bad day and I need a good cry" kind of sobs, but the full-body, can't-breathe, howling-through-the-night kind of sobs, and they are freaking terrifying. It sounds like a pack of wolves from above. And it goes on for a solid hour, no word of a lie.

For the next week, I would find myself jarred awake as Bruce sobs to himself at the ungodly hour of 3 AM, much like when he and his girlfriend were still together. The chants of "F---!" frequently accompanied his late-night sob sessions, which really didn't help reassure me that the episodes would ever stop.

Lucky for me, his next stage in the grieving process consisted of blasting crappy old country songs from 12 AM until about 4 AM, singing along mid-sob. Not even the good stuff! This was a thing for literally over a month. As an act of mercy, he *did* throw in some Eminem from time to time, which he rapped along with horribly.

There was no light at the end of the tunnel. None.

Then one day, months later, after drugging myself to sleep every night and wearing earplugs just to be semi-competent at work the next day, it stopped. I don't know what happened, and I don't care. All I know is that I can actually sleep like a normal person now and that Bruce has recovered to the point where he can function like a human being.

Not everyone escapes from these situations unscathed. For some, the situation never gets better and they either have to move away, or they commit a felony and escape to the comparatively peaceful county jail.

This guy in particular filmed his neighbors for three years, capturing all kinds of shenanigans and *ahem* questionable behavior, eventually having to move from his home. I can only imagine how much it took for him to hold on to the last shreds of sanity while dealing with these classy neighbors.Maybe cutting the video and compiling "highlights" from his time there was kind of therapeutic. If you don't have 20 minutes to spare, skip forward to around 19:30.