Say it the way it plays in your head. Blunt is fine — nobody sees this but you. Judgments are compressed data: every “always” marks a moment that stung.
“You’re so inconsiderate — the music is always blasting.”
“Last night at eleven, the music from your room was loud enough to hear through my wall.”
A camera catches dishes still in the sink on Friday — it can’t catch inconsiderate. One is a moment; the other is a verdict. Verdicts live in the eye of the beholder, and beholders defend themselves.
“I feel ignored” is an accusation in a feeling’s coat — it points at what they did. “I feel lonely and hurt” points only at you. The second is sayable; the first starts a fight.
More than three dilutes the moment — consider keeping only the sharpest.
No one is needy for having needs — fairness, rest, being heard: everybody carries the same kit. Conflict is usually two real needs colliding in a small room.
One sentence. Present tense. Something a camera could see done.
Not ready to ask for a change? Ask for a response first — it’s how the real conversation starts.
If they can’t say no, you aren’t asking — you’re announcing. A real request survives a no. And a no is data: it tells you which need of theirs you haven’t met yet.
Your empathy guess will be partly wrong. That’s fine — a wrong guess offered gently (“are you needing…?”) lands softer than a right conclusion delivered cold.
However it goes — afterwards, note somewhere private what you’re glad you said.