Biscuit is

the obese, mentally challenged one that everyone is friends with. But...they don't know.

We've reached a point where I feel that you take me for granted.  Your attitude, every day, reeks of entitlement and it's unsettling.  I'm, oddly enough, not the kind of person that has an easy time telling people that they've upset me.  I'd rather just hope for it to resolve itself, which it won't.  In fact, it seems to be getting worse and worse.  I think that if I brought it up and delivered my feelings to you in the most passive of manners, you'd take offense to the mere mention.  I understand that you have your own problems.  I'm at a big, fat loss and am filled with a sadness that I'm not sure how to fix.  You walk all over me and I let you.  Where do we go from here?