Contrast and Compare

You come home to an empty apartment after a cold bike ride without a sweater. You think bicycles can change the world. At this point you think sweaters can too. It’s getting dark too soon. Your favorite season is becoming tangible but your best friends are not here to watch the colors change. It feels like a waste.

Roommate has gone home for the weekend. He left a clean kitchen but it only feels unlived. You are waiting for a trace of yourself. It is an odd sensation. Nothing can be attributed to making you feel this way but the sentiment is there. You wish for a one bedroom at least six times a month, but now all you want is for the apartment to be full.

You don’t know how to turn on the heater so you sit wrapped in blankets with two pairs of socks waiting for someone who is not coming to fix things. It has been a long fucking week. Listening to Saves the Day is not helping. It only makes you think of old friends and things you’ve ruined.

You are tired of this stupid place. Your walls are still half bare and the bedrooms don’t feel cozy. The living room is chic but cool; you miss the warm tones of your parents’ house. You come home to a roommate instead of kin. (You hate yourself for thinking of one of your closest friends that way but it cannot be helped.)

The boy you’ve been out with three times this week calls to take you out. You politely decline. You drink too much at a friend’s apartment. You wait until you are able to drive and come home, in spite of genuine offer to crash there.

And sometimes sad songs just hit you hard. You blame it on the changing of seasons (there is much to be longed for). And sometimes you just need to get away. You have made so much for yourself here (but somehow now it doesn't feel that way).

You wish to take off but a friend’s birthday keeps you here. You call your mother and tell her you’ll be home the next day. She can tell you need her for no reason at all. Sometimes you think growing up is harder on her than it is for you. She says she misses you and the dog, and can’t we just come home tonight?

You show up for the party. After an hour girls are crying everywhere and it feels like a jr. high dance. You wonder why you stayed for this.

You return home. Real home with a real fireplace and ten acres and three other dogs for Gatsby to play with and scents of meals that didn’t come from a box. Your mother hugs you like she means it. You hang out with your grandma and family friends come over. Your dad plays the new Mark Knopfler album for you. You play Wii with your brother. Things feel right again.

You see your best friend. You go to your favorite coffee shop and your favorite park and you hold hands. Gatsby is almost happier to see him than you are. It is difficult to leave him. It is difficult to leave home.

You meet your mom for lunch before you take off. You see The Darjeeling Limited with your dad (you are only reminded that they have yet to screen it in Sacramento). He and Wes Anderson know how to make you laugh and comfort you.

You tell yourself it is natural to feel this way. You are on your own for the first time. You have lost nothing, though, you remind yourself. You are only gaining a better sense of self and forming self-sufficiency. Beautiful things come from suffering, you say. You plan to write this into the movie you plan to make one day.

You put on the mix cd your dear friend made you for your drive back. You are reminded that there are great people to return to. You listen to happy songs. You have an apartment waiting for you and walls to be filled. In a week you will wake up and nothing will feel this way.