24 Ekim 2017 Salı

My room

I have a room here. I own half of a mini-fridge.

The room is not small. But I have many books, clothes, kitchenware, junk food. Inside the room, there is nothing that is not full of something.

I keep the room in order. I vacuum and wipe the surfaces once a week. It never feels fully clean, neither does it feel dirty.

I clean the bathroom whenever I have mental energy to spare. That attributes to an average of once a week, but sometimes I skip weeks.

Kitchen is always horrible. I gave up on kitchen. My diet is almost exclusively comprised of frozen pizza. Recently I checked my finances and found out that I use up almost all my salary on food. I never calculate how much money precisely goes to it. I assume that since I'm almost 30 years old and have been poor long enough, I should at least be able to buy whatever I want from the market. Not a perfectly sound logic.  

Everything in this tiny 2-person flat smells a particular way. Bathroom has a damp odour. It's not disagreeable nor pleasant. Kitchen always feels claustrophobic and everything is stained with a thick layer of oil that doesn't come off.

My flatmate's moldy bread usually stands at the middle of the kitchen table. Monthly, the moldy bread is exchanged with another -soon to be moldy- bread. My flatmate is a particular person, I never see him. He never throws away or cleans anything. Empty toothpaste tubes, shampoo bottles etc. pile up for months until I eventually throw them away. I found such existence unimaginable when I first moved in. Now I know such thing is quite possible and mundane, partly through experience.

I like my room. I think it has a cozy, friendly vibe. I have nice lights and posters.

S-Bahn station is directly in front of our building. It is a bit noisy, but it doesn't bother me much. The bridge the railway passes through has a pleasant green that I enjoy looking at. There are some grafittis as well. On the other side of the street there are offices.  I find beauty in looking at the very urban view through my window. Often there is no hint of sun for weeks, it gets somewhat suffocating then. I'm relatively used to it now.

My life here is not unbearable. Sometimes I feel very well. More than sometimes, I feel inanimate objects in my room are more familiar to me than humans in this city and I want to leave. I live on, I am grateful to the things I have.