It feels a bit strange to just start writing about 'something' after the tres dramatique entrance there ...
But since I started this blog, I should continue, right?
So, let me tell you the story of the maggots in my friend's kitchen and by extension give you a little peak into my life and my head ...
I just turned 22 and finally broke up - for good - with the first 'real' boyfriend of mine. Real as in our relationship lasted 5 long years and I could say I loved him. We also lived together for nearly 3 out of those 5 years. I broke up with him the usual way (usual for me, at the time, as I already did it twice that way) by sleeping with someone else. You know, to give myself no option but to leave because the crippling guilt resulting from infidelity made it impossible for me to look him in the eye and so I had to leave. By the way, I've done it to him before, but then I realized I still needed him (in the damsel in distress way, I swear) and so we 'floated' back together again. Well, now it was about a year later and I finally realized that this is it and also felt strong enough to know that this time I will most definitely go through with it ...
But I'm departing from the main topic here ... And that is my friend's apartment. She just broke up with a boyfriend herself (who also happened to be my friend and whose apartment I cleaned once a week for 50 bucks, which was toooootally too little for the crap I had to deal with) and so the whole two lonely girls against the big bad world thing kind of kicked in and off only for me to destroy it as I was already rebounding with the same guy I (honestly) used in order to get out of my previous relationship. And so instead of having lots of good time with a lovely friend of mine - who was dealing with her breakup in a much more healthy and mature way - I spent an inordinate amount of time with an alcoholic coke-head, who really was a sweet guy on the inside - deep inside, a bit too deep if you ask me. But if anything, I'm a real digger (in more than one way, unfortunately).
So, my friend and I lived in her tiny one room apartment, slept in one bed, parallel parked on a dark steep sloping street ... and all was fine with the world. Well, except for the stench that came from the kitchen. It was in the first two or three days that I stayed there (I was mostly out, working, eating out, etc.). And then I decided to get in there and wash and clean the shit out of the place. And so I did and guess what - I found maggots in the sink. The friend of mine, let's call her A, seems to have cooked macaroni and cheese about a month prior to that and from that moment the left overs, together with the dishes, were getting all hot and bothered in the sink, which resulted in little maggot babies! Yay! Not ... the shit was nasty. Well, me being who I am, I threw all the left-overs together with the maggots away, washed all the dishes and then presented my good deed to my friend in a taaa-daaa sort of way. Well, the problem was that even after scrubbing the hell out of the dishes, they still stank in the rotting food sort of way and so we ended up pitching all of the dishes I just spent hours cleaning ... It made me sad. Yet another attempt at pleasing that didn't go exactly the way I envisioned it too. But of course, my friend was right to throw them away as I knew that's what should be done, but it still made me feel dumb, unappreciated and ... well, the whole spiel of negative emotions.
Despite that, I loved her place, and I love(d) her - in a friendly and grateful way. That was the first time I tasted freedom. It was amazing, exhilarating, it was so potent, I didn't know what to do with it. All of a sudden I could do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted and with whomever I wanted and that is also exactly what I did. I remember sitting in the apartment window - next to the window AC unit making its horrible sounds - together with A - smoking Parliaments, listening to music and feeling strangely zen and excited at the same time. Everytime I drove past the apartment complex later on, I could immediately transport myself back there again. I sometimes miss it, I've even cried because that is how hard I missed it ... It's one of those things, happy, amazing memories, in spite of the maggots.
Well, after a few weeks, I found an apartment that came with a roommate, but this time I had a room and a bathroom of my own and a really really pristinely clean kitchen, which is quite shocking considering my roommate was a single straight man. Rofl. Life is funny. Especially considering that just a few months later I found myself rebounding again with another rather damaged individual, which brought me to the brink of self-destruction.
But, such is life of a girl with lots and lots of issues.
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