But it would be so easy! And it’s not THAT bad! And– okay, that’s not fair to either of us.

I love the city, and I love crashing in a very bohemian apartment with three fellow artists, and having a fantastically cracked recording session followed by DDR and “Ratatouille”. I love getting to act like myself (because I’m off-campus!) and having every part of me accepted. I love people with open minds and open arms. I love getting on the wrong subway train and, upon realizing it, getting off in a flurry of laughter with a friend. (In time.) I love the quiet whispers, leaning on shoulders, smiling at everything, delight in every glance, knowing that I must leave but when I return, the happiness will.

I’ll return soon.

I really will.

—

The Kafkaesque (and admitted Kafka fanboy) lurker on our floor is one of the few people still here over break. He pursued me down the hallway, calling, “Entertain me!”

I spun around and planted feet in the hallway, hand on my hip. “Why would people want to use me for their personal entertainment? How can you–”

“Okay,” he amended, adjusting his perpetual melancholy expression and shifting his giant mass, “have a profound conversation with me.”

“I’ve got to catch a train at 5:24 tomorrow,” I began, and ranted circuitously about needing sleep until I had managed to reach the door of my room.

Later, when I was talking excitedly to a hallmate I hadn’t realized was still here, and we were sharing travel experiences, Kafka lurked against the far wall.

“Oh, you’ll talk to her, but not me?” he asked snidely.

“We both just got back,” I said, “and we’re talking about travel.”

“I live there,” he commented.

“It was fantastic,” she commented. “I had so much fun!”

“So did I! I hadn’t seen them in ages and now I miss them so much!” I mimed a dramatic swoon, clutching at my heart and leaning against the door.

“You must have been like thirteen if it’s been that long, and that means they weren’t real friends,” Kafka commented.

“I was sixteen,” I said.

“Then it hasn’t even really been years. How can you say that?”

“Look,” I said, and put my mug of tea down. “I’m going to put it to you straight. I’m not talking to you because you manage to trivialize all that I hold important every time I speak to you. I like having profound conversations, because very few people do, but I’m not going to listen to you toss insults at my friends. Fair? Fair.”

He pulled a pout.

“Fair?” I repeated.

“Meh,” he said, and lumbered off.

My friend gave me a significant look.

“I’m sorry if I came off as a bitch,” I mouthed to her, hearing his footsteps recede, “but someone had to say it.”

She gave a nod.

I’m locking my door more securely this evening…

—

EDIT, 11:39 PM:

I need to get up by 4:30.

I can’t sleep.

I miss them(?).