Sometimes, I think. I think I'm too young for this. Should I not be partying my heart out every night? Make my heart beat to the music that, without a drink, I would never listen to?
Late on this Saturday morning, I lie and stare out at the tree in front of the window. For my mother, a tree outside the window was so beautiful for you could always see the seasons change then.
It feels they have been changing quickly those past two years. I cannot remember the last time I slept over at someone else's place.
Stayed on some stranger's couch with my head pounding and reminding me of a night with friends and laughter. I like waking up at home now.
I haven't checked the clock.
Maybe it's not even morning anymore but noon. Who could tell?
I feel heavy from the good night's sleep. It's only ever so peaceful when I sleep next to you.
Otherwise, I wake throughout the night, waiting for you to come home to lift my blanket and invite you in.
Then, in the morning, we would talk about parties we didn't attend, friends we should invite over sometime for dinner. I will get up to get breakfast and ask if you'd like a tea.
And you'd say yes.
"Milk and sugar?"
While I eat what is essentially lunch and give you a piece here and there, you drink your tea with milk and sugar. The way I would never drink it.
But it smells so good in this room that is so quiet and peaceful.
I'll listen to music that I love, show you my favourite song. I will store away the liquor that has been accumulating over the past months because we rarely go out anymore. I will doubt myself.
I will think that maybe I'm missing out on something. I'm young and maybe I should get lost every night.
Then, I finish my breakfast...
...that is essentially lunch...
... and crawl closer to you.
With every breath my doubt subsides. I came to like it. This domesticity. I prefer it.
For if I would spend my night somewhere else, I wouldn't have this breakfast with you.