i remember

 The fictional city corner, covered in lights and sounds

Young, just out of high school. I got an apartment with one of my friends. Sarah, I think. We were walking together, she was so much taller than me back then. Sometimes I would forget which one I was.

Underneath the apartment complex, it's not so dark, not all the time. It's its own world of twilight pinks and lavenders, with layers of dull bluish grey dust and cold concrete.

The walls and pillars down there are collapsed. I could put my hand out for the tops of the shattered walls, but it's barely out of reach, even for a tall person. They all have a smooth rocky profile, too soft, too opically distant for when I run my hands over them, for what they are.

This is my personal world. Nobody but me and my friends know about it.

I know not everyone has a place where they can go. But many of them find their own, eventually, somewhere.

Now that I'm older, I understand that a lot of people miss something from their childhood. It's rare to still be living with your parents in what used to be a guest room and to be able to make it your own. But me and my sister managed, eventually.

I wonder how long I'll be living in this apartment. A small part of myself thought, this is my choice. Maybe one day I can take it as my home. It was a fantasy back then, but it is a fantasy that becomes part of you.

Now that I'm by myself, I'm not living quite as healthy. But the fo foo ment is there. I'm starting to feel like I know how cats, solitary cats, live. There is a calm in life just knowing that certain things exist. Yes, my wallet exists, and my place, and my car. Not those things.

For me, it's like a simple fountain in the middle of a garden. The trees are lined up with the sidewalks, all in maple reds and imaginary cherry pinks, the lights are just right at night, and there's a light drizzle. I see part of it, sometimes, when I go on campus. Sometimes, when I visit the capital buildings in the spring. Sometimes, right after dinner, when I've got nothing on my mind and time to myself.

It's peace and comfort, I suppose. There is nothing physical about it - it's not an item, it's not a project, there's no world to visit, though it might be tied to many worlds.

I feel like a sagittarius born two months too early. It does feel good when you have it.

No, it doesn't mean that you know how to get there all the time. You just know that it's there.

That's why they're explorers. That's why they have to talk to people. Not because they feel like people are missing out. Because they want to make something that only people can share with them.

About the apartment, and about my home, though.

There's no way to go back. Even if I went back to my room in my mom's house, and she would do the dishes, and I would fix things up again, and we would make some talk and act like we both belonged there together.

It won't change back who I am.