I live in quiet community. Sometimes I dream about owning my own house, being able to paint the walls or tear them down if I want to, but everytime I seriously think about it I have nightmares where I end up very confused and close to homeless. So, I stay because I love this place and it seems my psyche likes to just give money away. I like the comfort here and the familiarity, the curiousity I get when I see a window across from me light up. So many blinds are pulled shut and so few people walk about. We're not the friendliest of neighbors and I kinda think that's OK. When I first moved here I thought it was to be like college again where you made friends with everyone and hung out, but this time it'd be the grown-up version with homemade dinners and wine without the RA lurking down the hall. I had a little shindig and tried to get the peeps my age to come round. They did, but that evening was as far as it went. For people my age, this is usually a transition spot, a place for young couples to decide about what house they want to buy, a place for single girls and guys waiting 'til the wedding bells and moving trucks. Now, my neighbors are older or just old. I haven't seen the person below me in some months and the apartment above and across from me must be empty, I think. It's strange how little we know about each other or see each other and yet I know the sleeping, showering, and dishwashing habits of my above neighbors. I still don't know if it's a guy, a girl, or a couple, or what either of their names are. But, just now I heard voices, slurred speech and shuffled feet outside in the leaves and felt like I really was back in college. I turned all the lights out to see what was the unfamiliar noises were and that's when I saw two boys just before one of them walked to the bushes to relieve himself. I can handle the party life and what it does to people, but at 11:30pm on a Thursday, urinating in the common area is beyond reproach.

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