The Truth About Living Alone
When I was a kid, I always had to share my room.
It was really disappointing because I really wanted my own space. My siblings were slobs, and what’s worse is that I always got blamed for their mess, and I had to clean up after them.
Unfortunately for me, I had three siblings, but I only shared a room with two of them (interchangeably) throughout our childhoods. No matter who I shared with, though, they would always come to my room! I just couldn’t understand why they couldn’t make a mess in the other room, since they liked to play with each other so much. (I hated those dirty bitches.)
The one that got on my nerves the most was the one who I specifically expressed my concerns with; I told her I didn’t think it was fair for her to keep inviting the other two to our room to make a mess when she knew she wasn’t gonna clean up after them. Seriously, all she did was lay in her bed and eat potato chips (dropping crumbs everywhere) and watch T.V. She never lifted a finger to clean the room.
(Dirty ass bitch.)
My “friends” at school who had their own rooms? They just didn’t understand how good they had it.
I thought that when I was an adult, I’d finally have my own space. But no. When I went college, I had a series of roommates. Even after college, I had roommates. It wasn’t until I turned 25 and moved back home from Indiana that I finally secured my own apartment.
No siblings. No roommates. Just me, myself, and I.
I mean, I had my own place for a few months when I lived in Indianapolis, but that’s a complicated story.
What mattered was that I was back in Atlanta, one of the most expensive cities in America, living on my own.
Let me tell you: living alone is everything I thought it would be and more.
The freedom that comes with arranging your furniture the way you want it. Not having to worry about somebody eating your food. Not breathing someone else’s air. Or better yet, they’re not breathing yours.
Space to stretch out. Not having to copy your keys. Not being woken up by a drunken fall or arguing at 3 a.m. Not having strange people that you probably don’t even like at your house all the time. Not having to wear clothes!
You can listen to your music without someone tryna drown it out with theirs. People don’t just barge into your room uninvited or unannounced. There’s no splitting bills, so you don’t have to chase anyone down for their share (or worry about possible civil suits to get your money back).
I could go on and on, but I’m sure you get the picture.
Living with other people is for the birds.
I will say, though, there are a few downsides to living by yourself.
You have to keep a weapon to protect yourself, just in case. You’re your only line of defense; no one is there with you to have your back. Then, you hear creepy noises at all hours of the night. My grandmother says that all houses make noise, but that doesn’t really make me feel any better. Those noises disturb me sometimes, especially after watching a horror movie or true crime. And of course, your neighbors might think you’re “lonely” so they’ll go out of their way to be your friend. That’s not all bad, but it’s agonizing for people like me. (I still try to be nice, though.)
That’s about it.
But despite all the “bad” — if you can even call it that — I wouldn’t trade living alone for anything. 🌈