All that said, I'm not sure what to think: this is my first Christmas alone in, well, a few, I suppose. If it sounds cruel to say this, i really don't care. Last Christmas I already had the sure knowledge that my relationship with Lauren was over, that i stuck around just to see if things got better. They didn't.
Aesthetically, things really haven't changed, and I guess that is what I can count on. The place still looks like an apartment. I like that about my apartment, it has no faulty perceptions about itself, either in a functional or philosophical sense. It was before I came here, and will be long after I leave, an apartment. This place doesn't fuck around with existentialism (much like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (a reference to what Jeff got me for Christmas this year (if you haven't read Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, do)) tend to). My apartment is a turtle.
It hasn't seen me at my best, nor has it seen me at my worst, but it's seen things that I'm very proud of, and things that I regret. My dad told me when I moved in that if I'm careful this place could take care of me for many years. It was one of those things I passed off as just something older people say, but now that the people I've been text messaging have gone off to bed, and all I have is the company of my Christmas tree and lights lining the living room ceiling (a tradition i picked up from my older brother) (and, of course, my apartment (which, i think by now, very nearly deserves capitalization)), I kinda know what he was talking about.
I don't remember if Erika and I exchanged gifts for Christmas two years ago, or what we could possibly have given one another, but looking back, I am going to consider her gift to me as her looking at these apartments. I moved in December 17th, which is close enough for me.
Anyway, boys and girls, it's damn cold in here, and I still haven't beaten Skyward Sword. I'll talk to you all later.