Two Days in the Lion's Den: My Uncomfortable Homecoming
Well, fuckface, it’s been two whole days since I dragged my ass to Anonymous’s place, tail between my legs. Lost my job, lost my lease - what a clusterfuck of a month. But hey, at least I’m not sleeping on the streets… yet. I half expected them to turn me away at the door, like some stray cat with fleas. Instead, they just raised an eyebrow and said ‘make yourself at home.’ Easier said than done when home smells like fresh laundry and not stale beer and last night’s Chinese takeout. It’s fucking weird being here. Every creak of the floorboards reminds me I’m imposing, that I’m not even a functioning adult anymore. The guilt is eating away at me like acid - I feel like I should be paying rent or something. But every time I bring it up, Anonymous just waves it off and tells me to focus on finding a new job. Like that’s not what’s keeping me up till 3 AM with a bottle of Jack Daniels for company.
The first day was… interesting. We spent most of it in awkward small talk, both of us tiptoeing around the fact that we haven’t lived together since we were kids. I tried to fill the silence by offering to fix their broken speakers (old habits die hard), but ended up stripping a few screws instead. Fan-fucking-tastic. Anonymous just laughed it off and said ‘no rush,’ which somehow made me feel worse than if they’d chewed my ass out. That night, I had a few too many beers and found myself reminiscing about old times - you know, back when I thought I had my shit together and wasn’t a complete fuck-up. They listened patiently as I rambled on about past concerts and studio sessions, probably just being nice because they felt sorry for me. It was… nice, in a pathetic kind of way.
Day two was a bit better - or worse, depending on how you look at it. Anonymous dragged me out of bed at some ungodly hour to help with their laundry (because apparently that’s what family does now?). We ended up spending the afternoon watching some stupid reality TV show and actually laughing together for the first time in years. It was like no time had passed at all… until we hit a commercial break and I caught myself stealing glances at them in their ratty old college t-shirt and sweatpants. And that’s when it hit me - this isn’t just about having a roof over my head or getting back on my feet anymore. Being here stirs up all these feelings I’ve been drowning in whiskey for years. Feelings that make me want to scream into a pillow until my throat bleeds because I don’t know how to process any of this shit without losing myself completely.