Episode 06: Time's The Great Destroyer

I live in this apartment by myself.

I suppose that’s not technically true. I live with my cat. He’s truly the love of my life. He hides it behind typical feline aloofness, but I know he loves me too..

When I walk in the door, he’s always there, yelling at me for having left him alone for an extended period of time (he starts the clock ten minutes).

Even though he’ll spend the rest of the day walking around this apartment or dozing in the sun (it only peaks through the windows for about an hour and a half each day), he always manages to find a comfortable place in my bed at night. Usually between my arm and my chest, head on my shoulder, paw copping a cheap feel.

Most of the time I enjoy this isolation. Just my one true love and me. A mutually satisfying relationship. But let me tell you, when the loneliness gets to me, it hits hard.

I shouldn’t complain. I’m doing pretty well for myself, all things considered. Student loans are paid off. My art sells. I’ll probably never be forced to live with a roommate or work an office job again. I wake up everyday and set my own schedule, push my own agenda, play by my own rules.

Through a combination of hard work and good timing, I’ve been able to climb up to the middle class by doing the thing I love.

The apartment is not large. A bedroom, a living room, kitchen, and bathroom. It’s not the cheapest, but I pay for location. If you want to live in this version of Uptown, you have to have a little bit of money.

Sometimes I fell like I’m being watched.

I should rephrase that. My apartment is on the second floor and faces the street. I know I’m not being watched, at least not in the literal sense.

You see, I’m in love.

But again, this is not necessarily in the literal sense. I mean, I know I’m in love, but I’m not sure if I’m in love with him or with some idea of him.

Everything I do is influenced by him. This is why I say I feel like I’m being watched. Every major decision I’ve made has been haunted by a voice in my head asking, “What would he think?”

It’s good and bad, this voice. I can hear his disapproving voice whenever I light a cigarette or stay up too late. Each time I get a tattoo or go home with someone. I know these are things that, were he here, would never happen. While I am able to live with the twinge of guilt these things bring, that same voice has kept me from doing much more destructive things. I won’t elaborate on that. Not now.

He knows I love him. I don’t keep it a secret. Sometimes I suspect he loves me too. In fact, I know he does. But the question isn’t necessarily “too.” I love lots of people. Family, lifelong friends, my cat. The question is “back.” Does he want to be with me? I don’t know. I’ve given up hope of ever really knowing.

Letting that go was important. It gave me peace of mind.

Frankly, I don’t even know if we’d work as a couple anyway. We have a lot in common. On paper we’d be perfect for each other. But I’ve been down that road with other people. These things rarely work out the way you anticipate.

I don’t know how long I’ll be in this place. It’s been so long that it feels like home now. All the things I dislike about it have long since ceased to annoy me. Let the neighbors make noise, I’ll sleep through it. Let the faucet leak, I don’t pay the water bill. I suppose a little more sunshine for my cat would be nice, but even he seems to have made due with just that little bit each day. I think it makes him appreciate it more.

I suppose we’ve both learned to love the little things.

We have each other.