Your Worst Enemy When Living Alone

Recently, my aunt, who lives 10 minutes away us, left for an indeterminate amount of time to visit my grandparents a few states away.

Of course, being a 20 year old, I pounced at the opportunity and moved in. I should start practicing for my future, anyways—I don’t want to be thrown into that wild world without some practice.

Anyways, that night, I realized something elemental: I was alone in a huge house. At night. I never noticed how large her house was until it grew that night; each room suddenly erupted with countless hiding spots for murderers and inbred swine.

After having been here a few nights, I’ve learned that your imagination isn’t the worst thing working against you when living alone. Your worst enemy when living alone is your memory.

That moment when you notice a light on or a basement door open and you can’t remember if you were the one who did it. THAT is a truly terrifying moment. It will stay on your mind until you either remember that you did it or created a fake memory to convince you otherwise.

Which is what I did today.

I passed by the walk-in closet in the master bedroom today and realized that the light was on.

Freezing, I turned and looked in the closet, as if the answer lay between the coat and the blazer.

Shaking my head, I just flipped the light switch off, which was thankfully outside the closet, and walked away perturbed.

Mom must’ve come back to check up on me, and when she didn’t find me, she looked in the closet and forgot to turn off the lights. 

The switch must’ve been in the halfway position and suddenly chose a side.

Those weren’t even some of the worst ones.

I must’ve accidentally hit it with my elbow or something when walking by earlier. Yeah, that’s sounds about right.

My cat must’ve jumped down from that 10-foot shelf and bumped it on the way down.

30 minutes later, I still couldn’t shake the confusion off, which was made worse by the pounding at the door. It was the neighboring children, which may or may not have been scarier than anything I imagined.

Only until I remembered that my brother had been here earlier looking for some clothes in that exact closet, did I breathe a sigh of relief.

Until I saw the open garage door that I remembered closing.

I probably shouldn’t have searched “living alone scary” in Google images after sunset…

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Goodness Gracious, Great Balls of… Ice!

I swear, the last time I was aware that I had toes was last Sunday. It’s fucking freezing! Why I didn’t apply to any California schools?? … or Texas. And since I live in basically the Grandpa Dorm on campus, they don’t turn on the heat until mid-November!

And it’s not even bad right now. This is Michigan. When the 50s come back around after winter, it’s shorts and boots weather! I’ve been wandering the floor with no shame in my huge purple robe under which is layer upon layer of sweatpants and sweatshirt.

On another note, a drunk guy who saw me yesterday told me to stay classy. You too, brah! In fact, you’re doing a fine job of it while trying to get into the women’s bathroom. I can only hope my directions to the little boy’s room weren’t too complicated.

It’s during times like these that I realize how necessary my bed is. Of course, beds are usually important for sleeping and other activities. But I seriously spend every waking moment here. Can you tell? I’m in my bed right now! Who wants to spend their time studying at a cold, barren desk when you can study on top of fucking clouds and be bathed in sunshine warmth? Emphasis on fucking warm.

If someone were to tell me I could only have one piece of furniture in my apartment I would definitely choose the bed. And now I realize that many people in similar unusual circumstances would choose the same so that statement was basically just for decoration.

But my bed is so versatile. It’s my desk, my dining table, my sofa. And… that’s all I have to say on the subject!

Look what I found while searching for bed photos! I fucking miss my cat, dudes :(