Living with “Soledad”

I hate the idea of living with someone else. I know that it sounds outrageous, but it is the truth. Ever since I can remember I have enjoyed laying on my bed on a quiet afternoon in my room. The empty space gives me satisfaction.

I do not mined having a person contemplating my quiet, white walls, but on some occasions, the enjoyment gets lost in a random, awkward conversation. Many people might conclude that as a child I probably had a bad experience while sharing a room with a family member, but I never did. My simple explanation is that I enjoy spending time by myself. The idea of living with someone else gives me the sense of a time bomb waiting to explode or a feeling of a never-ending show. I cannot be myself when someone else is present. It makes me feel like I am a part of a play. I have to put my mask on and pretend that everything is great, but the reality is that they are just getting between “Soledad” and me. “Soledad” means loneliness, solitude, peace and my pleasure in life.

I hate the simple fact that at home I had to share a room and that even while dorming I have to share my personal space with someone else. I cannot wake up on a random day and be mad or sad without having the other person wondering and asking why. I cannot explore the endless boundaries of relaxation. I can’t let go - mind, body and soul. I sometimes close my eyes and picture myself ten years from now. How would it be? Who would I live with? Would I be able to enjoy and be satisfied with my space?

Today, I am required to set a code of conduct and act proper in front of the person with whom I share my living space. I wake up, look away and try not to spark a long conversation.
I brush my teeth; make sure I don’t bump into her. I fold my clothes, clean my space, throw my trash away, do my bed, smile and make sure I don’t get her upset. Today, I have no options because I live one hour away from Mount St. Mary’s College. Therefore, I have to dorm and cannot enjoy or contemplate the quietness of a room.

I hate the fact that I have to ask for permission or opinion from the person I live with in order to do something, giving me the feeling of enslavement. I do not want to be restrained from the pleasure of “Soledad”.