Part of me wants to pretend this is not happening. I want to prop my computer up on a stool, perpetually play sappy romantic comedies, and curl up forever into a little ball on my couch. I want to look out my HUGE living room window, and feel that wonderful mixture of happy to be where I am, and bothered that I'm not out there experiencing it. I want to pretend that doing so will magically save me from leaving this place. I want to cling to the best apartment in the world, and never let it go.
But, each day I realize one thing a little bit more: I'm an adult now.
With that understanding, comes the regrettable obligation to engage in mature behavior. I can't walk up to my landlord and invoke the higher authority that enforces "No take-backsies." I can't throw myself on the floor and thrash around until the limits of my situation are renegotiated. I can't lock the door and tell her she's not the boss of me. My youthfully adorable blue eyes may have sold all my brother's candy bars back in the day, but they won't help me here. I have to stand up tall, look life in the eyes, and accept my fate.
This sucks.
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