To my old apartment,
I saw you the other day. I won’t lie and say you looked good. I know I don’t owe you anything, but I can still be honest with you. You looked the same. Brown and old, just like my parents minivan, but with fewer exhaust problems.
I wanted to stop in a see how you’re doing. I know, it was stupid. After how I left it; the things I said, and the stain I didn’t really try to get out of the shower grout. I knew I had no right to want that. I kept my key but I’m sure your locks have changed.
I am not proud of this, but I wanted you to see me happy for once. I can’t believe I would even want to see you again but the longer we’ve been apart, the more I’ve wished I could go back in time and change things.
You knew what this was! It was a sublet! It wasn’t supposed to mean anything! You were furnished with crappy mismatched furniture and you smelled like corn chips and vinegar. I just needed a place to stay until my fiancé got out of her lease. But, with the depression brought on from moving across the country and being unemployed for 6 weeks, I spent a lot more time in you than I ever wanted to.
I went from “just sleeping” to living with you. I spent so many lonely nights being angry at you. Not for being my apartment but for being my home. I never wanted you to be my safe place and I never really believed that you could be.
Now I find myself in a beautiful home with the best roommates I could ask for: my wife and a one of my best friends. The location, the design, the furniture, every aspect of this apartment is perfect for me. I don’t just sit around and watch Netflix anymore and wait for my phone to ring. I’m moving up in the world and I find that my time at home isn’t a purgatory for the rest of my life. I’m happy in this space and I want you to know that.
I should have told you this when I left but you need to know: it’s not you, it’s me. And also your loose floor tiles.
I can only hope your current tenant appreciates you like your rustic charm demands.