I've lived alone for long enough - over five years now - that one would guess I'm pretty used to it. But I have to say that every now and then, it still surprises me. I'll be laying In bed in my quiet apartment, and it'll hit me - again - that I'm an "adult" and actually functioning on my own. I was so babied for much of my life (and still am, in some ways) that somehow the idea of residing on my own remains novel after all this time.
The first time I flew solo was my junior year of college. I don't think most people have the opportunity to live alone before they're able to legally drink, and I'm grateful for the experience. By a bizarre stroke of luck, I ended up in an 800 square foot apartment with granite countertops, a washer/dryer in its own little laundry room, and a garden tub. It was amazing and I think of it often. That apartment would cry if it saw the shoebox. But that apartment is in central Florida and the shoebox is in New York City. Everything in life is a trade off.
In between that pad and my first place here, I lived with my college boyfriend. All I'll say about that is what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
After that fiasco, I decided I needed to live alone again, and have ever since. There are pros and cons to every situation. I can get undressed the moment the door shuts without wondering if anyone else is home (which after a long day, I almost always do). But sometimes it can get a bit lonely. There's no built in pal to go out with or sit next to on the couch eating takeout during Glee. I know not everyone has the chance to live alone, but I'm so glad I do.
Of course I think about how much longer it'll last and what the catalyst will be. (I do hope it's meeting the man of my dreams and falling in love rather than losing all my money and having to relocate to a friend's couch.) Last year when I was trying to get out of my lease, I asked my parents if I could move back home while I finished my book. They said no, I moved to the shoebox, and I still haven't finished the damn thing. C'est la vie.
I love my little corner of the world and feel so fortunate to have it. But the truth is that it's so small that I'm bound to outgrow it in the next few years. Sometimes in those solemn moments in bed, basking in the stillness of my cozy home, I wonder what's next for me.
I can't wait to find out. But for now, I'm going to continue to enjoy dancing around in my underwear. Nothing lasts forever.