Cohabitation

       "So! I type a text to a girl I used to see", Andre 3000 sings out as I feel a vibrating against my leg. I reach for my phone, pull it out, and get stricken with apathy. The name that appears in my hand may be one of my best friends, but my desire to slide the bar, speak a greeting, and excuse myself from social interaction is not present. You see, I am rather introverted. In most cases, unless I know it's important or I really feel like seeing someone, I will not answer my phone. When it comes to socializing, I like to keep it small. If I spend the day with a friend, I will likely not talk to anybody for days after. I require a recharging period, otherwise, I feel just exhausted. A few weeks ago I had 3 straight days of sleeping at other people's houses, and running around town with different friends, and by the time it was done, I shut down. My friends thought I was dead because I didn't respond to anything for a week. I love my friends, and I can't live without them, but I value my time alone above most other things in life. I enjoy having time to reflect on my thoughts and persue my hobbies without the looming threat of having to come up with proper responses to conversational stimuli. While small groups of people for a few hours at the time are dandy, anything further mentally drains me.



       Now that I've thoroughly lined out how much of a basket case I am, I can get to my actual point. Recently, a large change came into my life. One that scared me at first. My very close friend Sam suffers from temper problems, and his mother suffers from manic depression. As one would guess, they have very heated and escelated arguments. For a few weeks, it was getting worse every day, and on top of it they were going to move very soon. At one point I jokingly offered my floor for him to stay on. At the time, I had no idea that a week later, Sam would be on my doorstep, practically in tears, begging me to help him. And I couldn't. I'm sure I didn't demonstrate this clearly enough previously, but being loyal to my friends is something I take much pride in. When a friend is in need, I will d anything and everything I can to help them. So I couldn't refuse. Over the next week, he slowly gathered his belongings and we made a bed for him on my floor.


     
    I'm sure you can only guess what was running through my head at this point in time. I was sharing my room. I couldn't go 12 hours with someone before I needed to be alone. I thought surely that I would drive myself mad. But, though this is a debatable statement; I never lost my sanity. I never got tired of being around him. I still haven't, as he sits in my peripheral vision while I type this to you now. Cohabitation has proven itself to be an entirely new animal. I never feel the need to be alone anymore. In fact, sometimes I even feel lonely, as if there ISN'T another person there at all. Of course I still try to avoid adding people to our party, I no longer feel the need to refuel my tolerance of socialization. Since it happened, I feel like more of an adult. I do more chores, try to keep the room clean, am far more desperate for a job, and feel generally more responsible. I can tell that a new chapter is opening in my life, and I can't wait to turn the page.