My roommate, she is always happy and positive and laughing.
People, men especially, but women too, are drawn to her. She has strong convictions, a strong personality. My roommate is NOT the giggly cheerleader type.
But she is always laughing. When she talks to her ex, the guys she dates, even on the phone with the utility company. She never laughs with me.
We started out as colleagues. Had the same role, on the same team, only she began four months AFTER I did and was given all the “good” clients immediately. As a result, she quickly made a name for herself, while I rested in the shadows.
She worked hard. We both did and we were a great team. Brainstorming sessions, staying late at night to make things better not because it was required, because we wanted the best for our clients, we wanted to give the best we could possibly deliver.
This bloomed into a friendship and when the stars met and perfect timing appeared. When we were both seeking new living situations at the same time we made plans to move in together.
I gave her my deposit the day the “incident” that led to my dismissal occurred.
This was late April. I could have moved in May 1. However, while I did pay rent for “our” new apartment, I did not move in. I stayed at Tom’s place. He had by then officially moved out, ironically to an apartment a five-minute walk from my “new place”. I was alone. I had just been fired. I could not bring myself to look, speak, be near her.
There was no blame, maybe a hint of jealousy, but it was mainly resentment, sadness and the reminder of what I had lost that made it painful to be around her. So, I stayed at Tom’s until his lease ended and I was forced to go. June 10th. Over a month I kept my distance.
Now, we are cordial. She can’t handle “me”, who I am, what I’ve become. She is kind and well-intentioned. However, I need to laugh. I need to be social. I need a friend.
So, I hear her laugh. I get the subtle hints that she would prefer I not speak, that I stay in my room, because, she has a lot on her plate and deserves to laugh too. I just make her tense, frown. I should not impose that on anyone, so I keep my distance.
With the loss of Alex, Caitlin, my own mother. Where, how, when will I find laughter again? When will I smile in genuine joy? How long can a person live without those things? How long before they lose the fire for life that once lit them up from the inside out. How long before they literally shrivel up and die?
~ audacious… Blah, blah, blah