/* Four Six is a theme by realvermin. Please don't remove credit! */
Let me take you through my head. Now, this is just a bullshit tour of someone’s new apartment or house. You don’t live in it, but they show you the bedrooms, the sink, and highlights of where they dwell.
First off, here’s my projection of how I present home to others. I try to be as calm and caring as possible. Ill invite you over for some tea and conversation to show you how cozy my home is. Especially, if you are someone I admire and respect, shit, ill put two tea bags in that cup. Ill present my home as if I am well. “Work is going well,” I say, as I also share some aspirations of mine with changing my apartment. But I don’t share the history of the apartment. Of how I came to move into this home or who lived in here before. I present the general surface of its entities. Although I do know the past of this apartment, it’s history haunts me, and I prefer not to burden others with those stories and images. So as I enjoy conversation with you, I enjoy to listen. Keep a talk going with open ended questions and concerning responses to stories of your past apartments(because all socializing is about where we have lived, where we want to, and how cozy we are with it now). As I hear colors you once had on your walls, tables you had in your kitchen, and the times you almost burned it all down by leaving the stove unattended, I connect. What relates in my head, turns to images of one of my old apartment’s but I dare not speak it. I hold it in with the piles of notebooks hidden in my desk drawer, in my bedroom. But I still smile, offer advice on home improvement( I did take rough carpentry freshmen year) and assure you, that you will know what’s right to fix your home.
Next is where things get filtered. Some like to call it the filtration system, I suppose, but for me, the vent seems clogged, mixed with dust, and in need of a change. I come out of my dream and awake into my home to rough breathes and lower depths of motivation to change this filter vent fucking thing. The fresh air fights to make it through the vent, but most is caught in the cob webs and all other build up needed to be cleaned. This ‘ego’ friendly filter is what is supposed to be showing me reality as I come home. Supposed to keep a balance of carbon and oxygen. Illusion vs. reality. But the reality of how clean and awesome I need to make my apartment are wishful and expensive, making it difficult to see how easily my illusions filter to reality in my own home as I do nothing.
The final part of my home. The InDoor pool, with the stone jacuzzi above the pool, flowing into the pool. The grand fucking finale that you want to show off so bad, but save it for last. For me, I must be comfortable to show this feature. You must see the dull drapes, the over thought decorations in the rooms, and the -waste of time to show-bathrooms. As you get a feel for my home and I feel you are cozy in there, along side with me, then I break open the doors to my pool ‘Id’ea made reality. Although this is where you can either dislike or enjoy my entire apartment as a whole. I feel comfortable enough to be OK with whatever you think. This is the point where I could worry less, feel the most, and be overall content in my home even around you.
It’s funny that the final part of my home, should instead be my welcome mat, lying on the entryway. But I sweep all the dirt caused by the old filter, under the mat and show the general aspects of the home I live in. Maybe I am producing a build up of tension for others? Where the thought in my head, that they don’t really know me, keeps them interested to find out. Or maybe it’s the fear to show who I really am? Or maybe I don’t know who I really am? and that is why I said apartment. Gotta stop renting out shitty space in my head, find a house, and grow.
Love n shit,