Melody stares at me from the next room as I smoke the dugout and sip my coffee beside the kitchen sink. It’s quiet, except for the grunting of the coffeemaker, the street traffic wiz-bizzing by, and Keith’s uninterrupted titan level snoring that he inherited from his mum and not his dad. I k*clench my butt cheeks slightly, because—

I have diarrhea but it’s not time to go.

I feel quite like the unmarried, childless young adult I grew into, neither impressed nor disappointed with what I see right now. Perhaps I am relieved? It seems like much more than my own mum saw when she was my age, but maybe at the time, it was just what she needed out of life, and it was a relief, too. “Doing better than my mom was doing at this age”?

She passed on a mild to medium snore that usually possesses me when I sleep on my back. Thankfully I have yet to suffer from her bizarre nightmares of gobbling up and choking on hair.

I poop with the door open and remember the days when farting in the same state as Keith seemed inappropriate. His snoring melds with my tooting. What nervous wrecks we were.

It’s only been in the recent months where I have felt like this is truly my home, and I try to take advantage as well as responsibility for that. It is very peaceful accounting only for myself and the other person with me—and whatever amount of furry or hard-shelled gremlins I have occupying certain corners at certain times.

How many babies at this age? Oh my god. 5? DID SHE HAVE 5 KIDS AT THIS AGE?

Jesus, woman. Jesus. 

I am once again reminded of the early days; a time I said I wanted Keith to move in with me, and you shared your disapproval in your typical fashion, which is to reflect your most basic emotional reaction onto me with stinging words and an expression of cold indifference. This round, your timeless words of encouragement were,

“You’d just be playing house.”

I don’t really think anyone was out of line to discourage us from moving in together at such a young age. It’s true, I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. It’s true, it seemed more fun than work those days, or something that seemed a little inconsequential, maybe something like a game, but today I remain in the midst of that choice, with my home and my gremlins and my playmate.

And, unlike you,

We are still here,

In our little toy house,

eating our little toy food,

having our friends over for pretend time, taking out empty trash bags,

Washing clean dishes under plastic faucets,

We are still here together, playing this goofy little game you called, “House”.

We didn’t put it down like a game, or win or lose like a game. It doesn’t seem to have an end like a game does, like yours did. It is all a game if you play it like one, like your kids are disposable characters and you can lose and start again.

Is that why you lost so bad? Because you gave yourself the option, like you have in a game?

_{Ma, have you ever heard of softlocked?}

I don’t feel like I’ve won. I don’t feel like I’ve lost. I feel okay with the fact that this life is mine, and not only played it when I didn’t fully understand it, but I continue to live it, to the best of my ability. I am happy for some of the big choices I made, seemingly childish at the time due to my age, but not at all a simple play. I am glad to still have Keith, my best recruitment ever, who effectively turned my solo character playthrough into a multi-player party. I know truly good people, and they would come to me from all over the country if I asked them to now. I have plenty of toilet paper, the hot water is always on, and hardly anyone criticizes me here except with a good heart or good humor. Maybe it starts off like a game, you invent yourself, you learn the controls, you collect things, but the game flourishes into life if you truly play. 

So, why did you stop playing?

It wasn’t all folly choosing Keith to join my fray, but these days I know you have no idea about him, never did, and could never understand that. I can see how the dudes you romanced _{(see, I don’t have to swear)} were just to gain certain Perks, but if you suck at the game, they really can’t help you. Now, he’s been around almost as long as you were willing to raise your youngest babies. Do you still think I was playing a ducking game back then? Do you think it’s a game I’m playing now?

If this is a game, you are a joke.

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