The Start of Something New

Chapter 4

As he left the apartment I got up and locked the door. It's not safe if it isn't locked. I carefully turned on the main light to the living room before turning to the mess in front of me. Clutter is not good. Clutter means it's getting bad again. It needs to be cleaned before it gets too bad.

I put on my shoes and grabbed my headphones in preparation to start cleaning. I put on my headphones and started with my room.

First, the bed has to be made. It cannot be a mess of blankets or else I struggle to keep my blankets in place while I toss and turn at night. Straighten out the soft brown blanket, then the weighted blanket that isn't heavy enough to keep my legs from moving it off the corners of the bed, blue, black, and then the crochet blanket I made when I needed to give my hands something to do.

Once the bed's made then I vacuum and pick up all the irritating pieces of dust that like to creep up and turn into dust bunnies.

I had to grab my phone and change the song. I don't need to cry anymore today. I've hurt enough, I don't need to hurt anymore.

The living room was easier to handle. Less noise interference with the music. I picked up the pillows and tucked them into their designated closet.

Hardwood flooring is amazing in places that get high traffic. You don't have to fight with pesky vacuum cords and the random bits of food that end up attracting ants and other pesky insects. Sweeping with a broom is also mind numbing in a way. It's a constant, repetitive motion that allows you to see the progress that you've made. The only hard part is collecting that fine line of dust and dirt that refuses to go onto the dust pan. If I was allowed to make a wish, I would wish for all the dust, when swept, to go directly into the pan without having to bend down and angrily attack it with the bristles on the broom.

When I stood back up I was hit with a sudden faint spell that was my body telling me I needed to eat. I didn't really have the chance to eat anything between the pain and socializing. I walked into my barren kitchen with everything properly put into their spots. The marble counters were spotless without any food stains or remnants of food forgotten. Clean and sterile, just the way I like it. I opened the fridge and surveyed the almost empty shelves for easy food to eat. I really needed to visit the grocery store again. I can't keep living off of ramen, cottage cheese, and tangerines. I grabbed two of the small orange fruits and lifted myself onto the island in the middle of the kitchen. I technically have stools to sit on in the kitchen, I just don't like sitting on them.

I carefully peeled the fruits and disposed of the skins into the trash. I still have a couple days before I have to take out the trash again. I turned down my music so I could focus on eating instead of autopiloting. I've bitten my tongue more than once that way.

With my food eaten I hopped off the counter and walked to my second room. It had no real purpose besides holding my random crafting supplies and failed hopes and dreams.

It was mildly cluttered, but I knew where everything was and everything wasn't encroaching into other hobbies' areas. In order for me to have properly organized everything I would have to buy shelving units, but I want to buy a big, cushioned arm chair before I focus on organizing this room.

I opened the blinds attached to the room to let the dying sunlight in and watered my two plants that have surprisingly survived. I changed my music so that it was a little more bass heavy and picked up mine. It had a glossy turquoise sheen to it that I fell in love with when I first saw it. It was one of the few bigger purchases I've made to give my mind something to do. I popped out an earbud and started to strip the music down to the instruments.

I swayed back and forth with the music copying the notes I heard to the notes I played. I noted the areas that I couldn't exactly get to match the music. When the songs I knew by muscle memory I would try to see if I could get myself to sing the lyrics alongside the bass. I knew Concrete Jungle by heart. It's one of my favorite songs from Bad Omens. Not just to listen to, but it held an emotional value to me.

When I was learning to talk again after the fire my speech therapist had me focus on mimicking the sounds in music. We based most of my learning off of the tattoo on my shoulder and I picked up on speech and singing pretty quickly. Within a few months I didn't need speech therapy anymore.

I lost track of time pretty quickly and it wasn't until I felt the apartment shake from the slamming of a door that I truly came back to reality. I turned off my music and exited the room making sure to put everything away properly and shutting the door behind me. I stood in my living room to try and figure out what was going on when I heard the neighbors to the other side of me raise their voices at each other. I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose. They were always arguing with each other. It was nothing new.

I walked to my room and got ready for bed.

I slept with a pillow over my head that night.