subject line: late night snacks.

 

in my empty house

I’m 23 and currently live alone. I don’t really have any friends in my town, so I spent my evening trying to learn how to cook hardboiled eggs. I don’t even like eggs, but I cooked 10 of them. The first two were ruined, but the third was tolerable if I covered it in salt and black pepper. I counted it a victory and ate another one as a sort of purposeless celebration.

Spending evenings alone is not something new to me. Most days it’s nice. I can read and clean and dance and binge watch my high school TV shows while eating ice cream out of the bucket without a soul to judge me. But once in a while, on days like today, I find myself crying on the floor of my kitchen, holding 7 tolerable hardboiled eggs in my lap, absolutely desperate for someone to share them with.