There’s a gerbil in my closet

I think this whole living alone thing is finally starting to get to me. This morning, I sang a song to Chubbs about how he was “cray cray in the hay hay” for approximately 15 minutes. After the first few verses, which repeated the song title, I added a few robotic dance moves to the mix, and stopped once I realized Chubbs was giving me that head tilt, the one where he’s calling me crazy, but without words.

Yesterday, on my way to Hobby Lobby, I cried in my car while listening to Christmas tunes on the radio. I realized how alone I will be for the holidays, due to work and no off days, and I got a little upset.

I’ve been here for almost two months now and still hang out by myself. Perhaps it’s my own fault since I refuse to go out and meet people. I’ve made some good friends in the past; I just can’t imagine having to go out and do it again. And to be completely honest, I don’t feel like going out to bars to socialize. A girl alone at the bar just screams hit on me.

Instead, I find myself going shopping, not to necessarily purchase anything, but rather talk to my fellow customers, maybe spark up a conversation with the cashier. That’s what I’ve become: a sad, pitiful adult in search of five minute friendships.

But, some good has come out of this loneliness. I’ve become extra crafty. I’ve painted a few canvases for my apartment, tried out a few Pinterest projects, covered my couch with a handmade slipcover and redecorated my living room so it wouldn’t feel so empty. And now that I have a library card, I’ve also been reading a lot more. I’m also joining a gym with hopes of getting back in shape, perhaps shed off some of this anxiety that’s been following me around for the past few weeks.

Now that I think about it, I guess it’s not all bad. Just those few dark moments where I put my disco vinyls on and go roller skating across my carpeted apartment in a pair of bell bottoms or find myself crouched in the corner talking to my plants about my day, checking out the ruckus outside by turning off all of the lights and peeking through my bedroom blinds, rearranging my kitchen for the 23rd time…

Yeah. I’m losing it.


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