On my Own

It's time to get up again.

I've been living on my own for around 3 months now and things haven't been as hard as I had expected, but they haven't been a walk through the park either.

Getting out of bed gets harder everyday.

My new apartment is small and cozy, even though a thin and constant layer of dirt reminds me that home labors aren't my forte; enough sun comes through the windows so I can wake up without using an alarm clock and it's located in such way that unless I take a very long time getting ready to go to work, I don't need to run --something I don't think a lot of people can brag about in such a hectic city--. I still haven't taken the effort to meet the neighbors, but on second thought, I've never cared too much for any neighbor, not even the ones that saw me grow up. I knew they were there, in fact some of them were really good friends with my parents and very polite with me, but I never considered them important or interesting enough to dedicate them more than the "hello" that etiquette demands.

Coffee again. I like coffee, but this is ridiculous.

Even though I haven't talked to them yet, I know a couple lives in the apartment across the hallway, they must be around their 50s. I've seen them go out a few times and have run into them in the elevator once or twice. They have that established couple aura to them that seems rare these days, they smile politely every time our eyes cross and I've never heard them make any kind of noise after 9 PM. I don't know if I'd ever like to be that way, I understand that the safety they must feel is probably huge, but uncertainty can be so much better. In fact, if certainty was my kind of thing, I'd still be living in my old house and going to my old job.

If I were home right now, mum would have brought me breakfast.

Why did I leave? Actually the answer is pretty simple: what a lot of guys deal with by buying a Porsche or getting a young trophy girlfriend, I dealt with by leaving home. Besides I think it was long overdue, people start saying things when a 30 year old still lives with his parents.

Do I have any clean clothes left? I can't tell in all this mess.

The biggest challenge wasn't to maintain myself. I'm a very capable professional and my parents didn't raise a dead-beat. I can cook well enough --I declare myself incapable of making a gourmet dinner, but it gets me by-- and the cleaning, even though it's not my favorite activity, doesn't offer too much resistance. Everything has it's place and I try to keep it that way, how successful I am doing it... that's a different story.

I'm fed up with this. It must be one of the worst decisions I've ever made.

My new job keeps me entertained, even though I'm the oldest of the bunch. It's a publicity firm founded not long ago by some fellas who had a good idea and decided to run with it. There's no more than ten people in the office and that makes us a rather closed community, but they're good guys. The only problem is putting up with the nicknames, but I think they could have done a lot worse than "old geezer".

No one used to bother me, I just did my job.

I'd love to meet someone. I'm not the most sociable of guys, but it'd be nice to have a companion. Andrea filled those shoes rather nicely for several years --a little over five, if my memory isn't tricking me-- but sadly things didn't work out as I expected. Thank God it all ended when it did, though; it would have been worse if the relationship had kept escalating. Imagine if we had got married!. Maybe it wasn't meant to work, no matter how much effort we put into it.

I can't get used to a messy bed but, what the hell?. I only kept it tidy for her.

It's weird feeling the bed empty, but I don't mind. I can listen to music any hour I want and nobody nags me if I have lunch at 5 in the afternoon. There's a certain magic to living by yourself, something you don't really understand until you experience it. It must be knowing you are the only master of your mess, understanding the logic behind the chaos of things that pile up in your room that you know no one will come to reorganize.

I'd love to have someone, I need someone to hold me. 

The way to the elevator to go to work seem eternal.

Life isn't bad, you just have to look at it with the right eyes.

Maybe now that I live on my own my luck will change and will become what I've always wanted it to be. Maybe now I can fulfill my dreams and stop telling myself that less is better. There's a whole world out there, right?

S**t, the elevator isn't empty. I'll have to put on my fake smile again.

Things are as bad as you let them be and problems always have a solution. It's time to take the reins and direct my life in the direction I want to instead of where everyone tells me it should go. Maybe things will finally start looking up for me.

Her eyes are gorgeous, I must seem like an idiot standing here. She's looking at me. Fix up your hair, smile, speak, say something. Say anything.

If I don't do it now, I never will. I mean, I'm not getting any younger and if I ever want to enjoy my life, I have to step up.

"Hi, I'm new here". Her voice is as beautiful as her eyes.

Maybe things will finally change for me.

Author's Note

Please let me know of any grammatical errors.
Enjoy!

Reviews

[Cicera]

I am the master of my mess, so I don't have to give accounts to anyone, just as no one can force me to make an effort at anything. But there is the rub! Nice little story and well written with a good sense of humour.