The sense of nothing

I haven’t left my apartment all February.

Minus the bridal shower in Texas, I have been a hermit. Leaving my apartment only for the essentials (Pain au Chocolats, sparking waters and flowers). Winter is for hibernation but I think I overshot the line at which hibernation ends and isolation begins.

I find myself feeling like I’m missing out. The mysterious orb of “missing out” that surrounds all from the corner of the room. “What is missing?” I asked myself wandering down the aisle of Whole Foods, the place where all deep thoughts begin.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my childhood. What mattered to me. What I used to do before social media came into play. I remember walking though an art gallery two years ago with my mother and telling her, “I want to have paintings like that in my home.” And all she said was, “Then paint.” Mothers never forget the talents their children possessed before the world came into play. I begged my parents for an art set when I was 12 and then one day, I pushed it under my bed. Instead of practicing sketches I drew boys names in hearts. I decided to take my mothers advice. This winter, I filled up my home. My own personal art gallery. Slowly pulling out the piece of me I pushed under the bed.

Boredom.

A black square that lays on your chest that makes you feel like you can’t do anything without anyone else’s company so instead you must lay in rot on your couch at the brink of tears because surely everyone must be out doing something fun and all you did today was make breakfast.

I deactivated all of what was left of my social media accounts. All the apps washed away from my phone screen. I have to get on my computer like an elder to watch YouTube. I have no clue what any one is doing. Which makes the aloneness shimmer. My perspective is currently all I digest. What MY plate looked like at dinner time. How the sunrise looked to ME.

The fringe of “the everyone” is no longer there.

A very underwhelming winter is ending. We didn’t get any snow. No tiny streams of melting water running in the streets. No dirty snow banks lingering at gas stations. The trees, however, are blooming at such a rate you would think they were holding their breath. The trees in the IKEA parking lot are cotton candy pink. Catching my eye and bringing a smile to my face. I take a picture. I send it to my boyfriend. I put my phone down. I continue my drive and I think about painting later today but then I remember my other love, writing. But that’s a story for another day. I’ll probably tell it to you in summer.

T.