An Open Letter to My Studio Apartment

An Open Letter To My Studio Apartment

My oh my, you sure are a bittersweet goodbye.


Dear Apartment #505,

I want to thank you for giving me a space to live while I've gone through probably the biggest transitional period of my life.

I moved in when I was twenty — a depressing age where you're not a teenager anymore, but still not old enough to buy your own booze, and will be moving out at twenty-two — an age where you should maybe consider getting your shit together, but the situation is not totally dire yet.

I'm going to miss the ugly floral carpeting, the dark lighting that makes you feel like you're in a black hole the second you enter the building, the tiny little doors in every hallway that lead to nowhere, and that weird musty smell. I'll miss the million dollar view, the scary old elevator with the gate, and having the freedom to walk around in my underwear at all times. However, I think our journey together is meant to come to a close; you served your purpose, and I'm ready for something new.

With that being said, please enjoy a recap of my fondest memories of living here, which looks like a cheeky 80's montage in my head:

I tried owning a cat named Frank who only had three legs. Both he and the situation itself were pretty miserable — everyday I'd come home to piles of either his puke, shit or piss. I really couldn't blame him; I'd probably do the same thing if I had abandonment issues (he was a Humane Society kitty) and was trapped in a 400 ft closet for ten hours by myself. The litter box wasn't really my favorite, and neither was Frank waking me up in the middle of the night by meowing loudly in my face. I quickly learned that studio apartments are not meant for animals other than fish, or that maybe I'm just not a good pet owner.

I got my first stick-and-poke tattoo. My old co-worker/friend came over, and we sat on the floor and I drank a whole bottle of rosé while we talked about life stuff as she stuck a needle in my arm for three hours. I love this particular tattoo of mine, because I'll have this sweet little memory on my body forever.

I had my first handful of awkward one-night-stands. (Scandalous, I know.)

I had many drunk dance parties, alone, at eleven o'clock at night. I'm sure my neighbors loved tuning in.

I dyed my hair all by myself for the first time. I don't think it turned out good that time or any of the other times that I did it, but that honestly didn't matter to me.

I made a lot of shitty mac-and-cheese.

I spent a lot of evenings sobbing on the floor.

I was exposed to what unnecessarily loud and gross Furry sex sounds like, thanks to my downstairs neighbors, whom I still have yet to meet but feel like I already know.

I woke up to some of the most beautiful sunrises I've ever seen.

I fell asleep to some of the most beautiful sunsets I've ever seen.

I felt some of the deepest depression of my life.

I survived Snowmageddon 2019.

I watched a lot of stand-up comedy specials and South Park reruns, which helped me realize that comedy is the one thing I'm actually passionate about and want to do with my life.

A wish of mine came true one night (Think Sixteen Candles, minus a nerd stealing my underwear, questionable rape, or Jake Ryan himself.)

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A Letter To My Go-To Aunt

Happiness is having the best aunt in the world.

I know I don't say it enough, so let me start off by saying thank you.

You'll never understand how incredibly blessed I am to have you in my life. You'll also never understand how special you are to me and how much I love you.

I can't thank you enough for countless days and nights at your house venting, and never being too busy when I need you. Thank you for the shopping days and always helping me find the best deals on the cutest clothes. For all the appointments I didn't want to go to by myself. Thank you for making two prom days and a graduation party days I could never forget. Thank you for being overprotective when it comes to the men in my life.

Most importantly, thank you for being my support system throughout the numerous highs and lows my life has brought me. Thank you for being honest even when it isn't what I want to hear. Thank you for always keeping my feet on the ground and keeping me sane when I feel like freaking out. Thank you for always supporting whatever dream I choose to chase that day. Thank you for being a second mom. Thank you for bringing me into your family and treating me like one of your own, for making me feel special because you do not have an obligation to spend time with me.

You've been my hero and role model from the time you came into my life. You don't know how to say no when family comes to you for help. You're understanding, kind, fun, full of life and you have the biggest heart. However, you're honest and strong and sometimes a little intimidating. No matter what will always have a special place in my heart.

There is no possible way to ever thank you for every thing you have done for me and will continue to do for me. Thank you for being you.

Cover Image Credit: Pixabay

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Home For The Summer

Home sweet home.


Now that school is finally over, I packed up all my stuff and finally got to go home and be with my family again. More specifically, I got to see my dog.

Moving out was a hassle. I didn't realize how much crap I actually had. Sure, it started off not too bad when I moved in, but over the course of the year, more and more stuff came into my possession. By the time I was supposed to move out, it was like I had twice the amount of stuff from when I started. It took two days to officially move all of my belongings back home.

Since being home, I've noticed a couple of things.

First of all, my mom missed me a lot. Hi, Mom. :)

It's not like when I went to college, I completely disappeared from my mom's life or anything like that. We talked on the phone often, and she would visit me sometimes to take me and my sister out to dinner or something with our dad. Also, with the number of times I had gotten sick throughout the entire year, it was like every other week I came home.

The first day I came home, she made a run to the store and called me asking if there was anything I needed, and I said not to my knowledge. She came home with a crap ton of my favorite ice cream and snacks, just because.

Another thing she's been doing is cooking every night. My mom works during the week, so understandably when she gets home, she doesn't always feel like slaving away in front of the stove to make dinner. However, for whatever reason, my mom has made it her sole mission to make me gain 20 pounds by the time the fall semester comes around.

She knows I hated the food at school, so whenever she cooks dinner, she mentions that I love being home because I get to have real food. I mean, I'm not complaining. Who doesn't love a homecooked meal?

I can tell my dad is pretty happy about me being home with the new change in the menu.

Second of all, for the time being, I have A LOT of free time.

Now, this will change once I get my summer job, but as of right now, I have nothing to do. Both of my parents work during the week, and I didn't really keep in touch with the majority of my high school peers, so I have no one to hang out with. I mean, I could see some of my college buddies and sorority sisters, but everyone lives far as hell away.

This is kind of difficult for me. Not because I can't just spend time alone; I have no problem with that. However, I'm used to having a full schedule. Aside from just being used to it, I like it. I'm one of those people who likes to keep busy.

When I'm out and about or have a lot of things to do, I feel productive. Now, I just feel lazy because I literally have nothing to do. To try and counteract this, I've resorted to doing a personal project throughout the summer.

I just need something to occupy my time. Boredom sucks.

I'm glad to be home, though. Living at college is great, sure, and you have all this freedom to do whatever you want and you won't get in trouble or whatever, but I don't really care about all of that. Family is very important to me.

My mom, as crazy as she is, is my best friend, I tell her everything. Living away from that can really stink. Makes me wonder if that is why I kept getting sick so much. Like it was my body's way of forcing me to go home and be with my family.

This summer is going to be a much-needed break from school. I'm excited to see where things go.


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