Among other things, it means I can play weird music in the morning and dance around the room half-dressed, falling all over myself because I was up most of the night writing or playing online scrabble or baking cookies or watching nerdy documentaries.
Nobody is here to laugh at me, except me (and I do).
Nobody is here to get annoyed by me, except me (and sometimes I do).
This is the first time I've lived entirely on my own, and it's fantastic. First there are the simple, somewhat selfish joys of being able to do what I want when I want, having to see and deal with only my own messes, and just having the space to myself without having to share it with anyone (except when I want to).
This literal space, as Virginia knows, is great for creativity. Then it gives way to figurative space as well. I could not be in a better place right now: I am exploring this space and finding myself in it, uncovering new interests, discovering what is really important to me, trying to figure out who I am and who I am becoming.
This all may seem very self-centered, and indeed in a certain way it is. But I believe and insist that, even as—and because—I am "coming into my own," so to speak, I am also learning to connect with other people as I never have before. And that, my friends, is worth the monthly rent check. (Also, the hardwood floors are a nice touch.)
(note: the photo here is one that I took, of a house that I like, which is not my own)
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2 comments:
It feels great if you haven´t done it before. It must be experienced to know if it´s for you. I experienced it a couple of years too much...but that was a long time ago.
Oh, oh, oh, fully agreed on all counts.
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