I’m going to pretend you’re my close friend, and we finally coordinated our schedules so they matched up and we could have coffee. Or iced tea. Or beer. Whatever.
Let’s pretend we’re sitting outside your place on the deck, overlooking your fenced back yard that I’m incredibly envious of. I’m not envious of the fact that you share the house with seven other people, but that yard looks like heaven. As our drinks pop and fizz quietly in our hands, I’m finally able to tell you everything, everything everything, because there’s been too much on my mind.
I’d tell you first about how I feel I need my own place. I love my roommates to pieces, but they’ve lived together, in one place, a lot longer than I have, so our shared apartment is really their apartment that I happen to rent a room out of. As someone who is stubbornly independent and craves personal space like others crave chocolate, the lack of “my” space has been grating on me.
It’s expensive to live on your own – that’s why you share a house with seven other people. But I know there’s a place for me, somewhere. It’s a quiet one-bedroom, where all the windows face south or west, and it’s in a peaceful neighborhood where I can’t hear the highway or any other busy roads, and it will allow me to keep my pets.
And it’s affordable. That’s the real kicker.
I haven’t found the place yet, but I know it exists, and that it will find me as I find it.
Let’s pretend I tell you about how I’m cleaning up my eating habits. I made a phenomenal dinner the other night, and I’ve been excited about eating healthier. It takes work, but then again everything that’s worthwhile takes work.
Let’s pretend you sip from your glass as I wave my hands around as I talk – like I always do – and I tell you that I think I have feelings for my friend, you know the one, and how that’s a terrible idea, because of all the reasons, but those reasons sound like flimsy excuses as I say them aloud. You get that knowing look in your eye and I start to blush; you know me so well. When you ask me, “If not now, when?” I look away and mumble about how timing is never perfect before changing the subject.
I’d tell you about all the projects I have going on that I need to finish: the blanket, the maps, the paintings, the writings, the cooking. And yet every time I have an opportunity to work on any of them, I prefer to simply sit and vegetate, letting my mind fill with fluff and lint and cotton, because I simply haven’t had the energy to focus on those projects.
When you ask about my travel plans, I tell you that I’m ecstatic about my trip this summer – but I fear I’m trying to convince myself of that excitement. Was it the impossibility of it that initially thrilled me, and now that I have the means I’m no longer interested? What kind of monster would that make me?
The fear that I’m letting my life pass me by keeps me awake at night. Now that I’ve made a motion to really live my life, why am I not as happy as I should be?
Maybe that’s the depression talking. I hope it is.
Let’s pretend our glasses are now empty, and we go to refill them. As we bask in the sun that grows warmer with every passing day, you tell me about how you’ve been…
Since this is neither the weekend, nor is it an appropriate time for coffee (although there are some who would argue that every time is an appropriate time for coffee), this isn’t technically a Weekend Coffee Share, courtesy of Part-time Monster. However, I needed to vent, to write, to blog, to do something before my brain tried to eat itself alive.
How have you been?