Judy doesn't live here anymore.

My roommate moved out last weekend, and since she's left no one has been in this apartment but me.

That is particularly weird, actually, because both Judy and I would have a fair amount of people over. I'd usually end up with someone watching TV with me at least a few nights a week, and Judy often made dinner for her best friend here in LA. And though we didn't talk all that often, there was always still that presence, the knowledge that I was sharing my space.

Of course, this "sharing" often came from the fact that Judy would leave the stove splattered with whatever it was she'd last been cooking, which drove me nuts, but I suppose it was contact nevertheless.

Now there's no one, however, and no visitors either. If there were, there'd be very little hospitality waiting for them. With Judy went the living room -- couch, coffee table, TV stand, even the lamp. The room is empty now except for a television (on the floor) and my bookshelf, which is completely full of crap Judy stuffed onto it in the process of reclaiming her furniture. Likewise, it'd be hard to have someone over for a meal, because there are no more normal plates or bowls. I have to say I miss all those things more than Judy.

My bedroom and bathroom are the only places left unchanged, yet strangely I feel lonely and uncomfortable staying in my room for any more time than it takes to sleep at night or change clothes. Instead I've set up the kitchen table (which belongs to me) as a desk, and have moved all the "living" downstairs. Maybe this is my way of filling the space back up.

It's a weird reminder of both the past and the future though, to be in this space alone. I had a really rough time last year while I was living in my own little apartment-box; the most contact I had with my fellow residents was when I realized one of them was stealing my packages. Those were bad times, times in which I left the TV on for company and fell asleep at 7pm from boredom. With all the work to do for the end of the school year and moving, I'm trying very hard to avoid that, but I was never too successful even while Judy was here. I am pretty sure her biggest memory of me is going to be how "sleepy" I was.

So how to not make this the future? I turned down one offer of a roommate in Japan, actually, because the apartments are so small I couldn't imagine trying to learn to adapt to a stranger in that kind of environment. In a lot of ways, it was hard to do here, even with two bathrooms and different class schedules. And previously, I had been hoping that a friend from LA (who I like too much), who had been planning to move to Japan for a long time, would stay with me for awhile and thus keep the general loneliness at bay. I don't think that's something that's likely to happen any more, though. So this leaves me in a weird place -- I'm very worried about falling into these old bad habits.

Hopefully, I'll fill my new space in a way that makes me happy to be there.