The Apartment

The Apartment



         I sit in this apartment wondering why? Why did I decide on this one and why did I leave home? I had to leave, it was too stressful, too much chaos. But it seems I’ve gone from one hell to another with this apartment. This apartment that mocks me that laughs at me. This apartment that plays cruel jokes and evil pranks on me. The kitchen floor is in on it, curling up the cheap laminated tiles so that the corners reach up and trip me when walking across. The shower too, cutting off the water pressure once my head is full of shampoo and body covered in soap. HA HA! The apartment would cheer in triumph as the kitchen sink fills up with a brown liquid. This cruel apartment forever tormenting me even recruits others to join in on the fun. Mice running around eating my food and being a nuisance, I can hear them at night, in the walls plotting their next attempt on tormenting me.

         Why don’t I leave this hell, surely there is something better? Cheaper? Why am I paying to live in this hell, is it really better than the alternative? I can’t go home it’s not good to be there, it’s stressful and chaotic. Home is where my work goes to die, home is where I can’t sleep and get into senseless arguments, but home doesn’t play tricks, or laugh and mock me. Home doesn’t recruit others to torment me. But that is because it’s a home and not an apartment it is someplace I can be and not just live. I could never make this apartment a home because I can never truly be in here, not with the laughing and the mocking. To have that sense of being in a place, that’s when you know you are home, this apartment could never be a home. No never a home; even if I nailed all the tiles to the floor, opened all the water valves, drained the sink, and burned all the mice. I would still hear the laughing and the mocking from these cruel walls of this hell, this apartment.