living alone for the first time | Tara Metzger my clothes and books and crumbs of life litter the floor of my cold basement apartment. there’s no reason to pick them up as it’s just me here. i wake myself up. i walk myself to work. i meet me at the door to come home and hang out, just me, until i tuck myself into bed. looming behind the sound of upstairs neighbors and a pathetic iPhone speaker, are my thoughts. it’s painfully quiet. no matter how much noise i make in an attempt to distract myself from the lack of vitality in each of these windowless, white rooms it’s still so quiet. although i was eager to move out of my childhood bedroom i can’t help but emotionally wince every time i see something that reminds me of Home home. pajama pants that my mom picked out for me. homemade soup and christmas spirit oils she made me take with. they make my throat close and my nose burn. maybe it’s the lonliness getting to me but i’m feeling a little bit lonely.
23
