not wanting to leave

i love my little apartment. recently, i got a rug, some new throws and pillows, a new bookshelf, even a vacuum. if my weekends are fairly free (like this one), i do my errands and brunches and school assignments, and then spend the rest of the time IN and full a part of my apartment. i am constantly arranging things, getting rid of things i do not need (the new york city curse), relaxing in my futon. the new bookshelf has forced me to nerdily examine my books (even deem which is acceptable for selling on amazon) and i am really loving my apartment. it feels so cozy. i never want to leave.

of course in new york city, you visit a friend’s apartment, and you crave the neighborhood (“a little café just underneath the apartment, with the park within spitting distance!”), you crave the decor (“simple white with bold red—gorgeous!”), you crave the aparment (“what an amazing deal! for so much space, and look at the slopes in the walls, and the character this apartment has!”). and lately, i’m really loving my apartment.

i have a great community at yoga and the health food store, know a lot of the people in my neighborhood, am friends with the guys below me, and LOVE my apartment—the walls MY FAMILY and I painted, the stuff i worked so hard to find, the furniture from my parents, from relatives’ basements, from ikea. i love everything being so cozy, and i don’t want to give up the lease.

i should, i suppose. i’d have to worry about someone subletting my apartment, and if they would be trustworthy. and what if they fucked something up? and what if my landlord won’t let me or finds out if i don’t tell him? i also would be coming back straight into a lease of $975 (assuming my landlord doesn’t raise the rent!) and what if i don’t have a job right away—or what if i get a job and can’t afford my rent? after my trip, i won’t exactly have my savings to dip into. also, what if trevor decides to grace me with his presence here in new york city by moving back in with me. that would be WONDERFUL, but i don’t know how long we could stay here. i’m sure we could manage—i could leave some stuff in boxes at my parents’ house or in storage (one closet just for me is a nightmare!), and we’d have to have stuff in storage, but i don’t know if t would want to do that again.

i guess i’m just hopeless about decisions, and perhaps you, dear reader, can offer me some suggestions. i do want to live near prospect park, and after my trip, i could afford to sublet or share an apartment, but i want to live alone. t not knowing what he plans on doing is also confusing. if he tells me he is staying at his job for two years, well, i honestly don’t know if i could deal with that relationship. it is too fucking painful.

in the meantime, while i attempt to make this difficult decision (which needs to be made in the next month and a half, if not sooner), i will enjoy living here, and make the most of my cute greenpoint apartment.

best of all, i can see some stars here.