I got back from vacation last night and so, today, between my days off and being back to reality, I have been living in a daydream. I’ve been sitting on the couch for the past hour, neglecting all of my “back to routine” responsibilities (laundry, gym, cleaning, groceries, etc), in favour of thinking about what could’ve, should’ve, and might be. I can’t help but feel like I am not where I am supposed to be.
It isn’t really that even, it feels more like I am not who I’m supposed to be. I’m going through a bad phase with social media where I look at other people’s accounts and compare my own and I feel like I look so incredibly superficial and boring. There’s no real content to my life. I worry that this speaks to a deeper level of dissatisfaction from the superficial happiness I have been experiencing.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it though. Go do what ought to be done, to start (laundry, gym, cleaning, groceries, etc), and then maybe work on re-prioritizing. But also remember that social media is not an actual representation of the ways in which people are living and experiencing their lives.
I have lived in this shared one bedroom apartment with my craigslist roommate for close to three years. I have stared out at the dirt and mildew stained walls outside my window thousand of times thinking about my life and existence and the future. I keep feeling like I will be sad when I leave on Saturday, but I suddenly realized that this place has never really been my home.
In my transient young adulthood, this is the longest that I’ve ever stayed in one place, but the yellow tiled bathroom and beige walls don’t belong to me. No matter what efforts I put in to making this place mine, the calendar on the wall, or chalk boards with my to-do lists, it never really felt quite right. It was always a shared place, not fully my own. I think about all the memories I’ve made here, all the ways that I’ve really come into my own and become a person I am happy to be, and built relationships here and a life, but that isn’t about the place itself.
Sure, I will miss the memories, and maybe a little bit of the freedom I had in this ~300sq ft room, but this place was never really my home. Now I have the chance to make a real one for myself, if I am ready to give up the idea of myself as a transient youth and move forward into a real life with someone. It’s scary and overwhelming, but I’m ready to say goodbye to this non home and move forward into a real house with plants and dogs and friends and a man who loves me.
So goodbye, mildew stained paneled wall. I don’t think I’ll miss you.
I remember staring out the window as the countryside flashed by us, the stars bright in the sky, and the mountains like a shadow against the night. We were passing wine in the back seat, taking giant greedy sips trying to keep this euphoric feeling from slipping away. I felt warm and cozy with you as I touched the glass pane and felt the chill of the air outside. That song was playing on the radio, the one that I like so much, and I was singing along without a care in the world. That’s when I suddenly remembered what happiness feels like, it isn’t bright and shiny like we imagine it to be, but sometimes it’s just warm and cozy. These moments would fade and combine into others, the frivolity of the evening would change our happy glow. But I still feel it when I look back at that car ride, your fingers interlaced with mine and that song playing on the radio.
Oh home is wherever I’m with you…