Bookmark #218

Have you ever been to my apartment? Probably not. I don’t let people in unless they’re family or a friend, or an acquaintance I had to let in because of some impossible situation. I’m a relatively private person, although my facade would have most people believe they know things. They do, too, as much as I’ll reveal anyway.

More often, though, when it comes to someone visiting my apartment, I make an excuse. I would tell you I have work to do or the place is soiled or that it’s better if we can meet in a caf√© or a pub or anything that is not my apartment. Perhaps, your place. Your place would do!

My apartment is sacred to me, and that’s partly because of how I prefer things in my head. It’s a reflection of what goes on inside my head. You see, everything is thought of, and no, it’s no designer’s paradise, but it’s mine. The coffee machine is at the far end of the kitchen, and reaching it takes me enough steps to wake up. The lamp is placed perfectly between the clock and the tiny succulent. I prefer it that way because the shadow is an even blur at night. It’s about the little things.

If you were to pick something up and set it down, I would nudge it back into position instantly, often to your frustration. I can live in a mess for some time, though. It’s only that I don’t like living in someone else’s mess; I am perfectly fine with my own. Yet, my need to keep and file everything into its proper place surfaces, eventually. I know I’m not the first person to exist in this slavery to perfect order.

As abrupt as that sounds, it’s how I think as well. I nudge my thoughts in different directions until they fit. I have learnt to have a third-person control over how I think and how my thoughts are shelved. I’m the sole housekeeper of my tiny little brain. It’s difficult to explain unless you’ve been to my apartment, really. When you ring the bell, and if I let you in, you’ll know more about me than I could ever let on.

Once you do, nothing is sacred anymore; everything’s a vulgar attempt at control, and so I will let it go. That’s when you’ll really know me. Everything else is what I choose to show you, and if I don’t open the door, that’s all you’ll need.