i've never been good at goodbyes

My apartment was 5A.
I don't really know why I went. But that doesn't matter.
But I did go. And that's what matters.

The man above me, 6A, William Lee Barefield III, he was a ladies man. The French girls loved him. I would hear him up there every night with a different woman, screaming and laughing, and you know. He made me believe in sincerity.

The woman below me, 4A, Charlotte Charles, she was beautiful. I never actually saw her face, I only ever heard her voice. She would sing of Life, Love, and bowls of sugars in the kitchen in spring. She made me believe in beauty.

Then there was the girl who worked at the coffee shop down the street. Esther Greenwood. She would get me my coffee and pastry every morning. She was the type of girl that understood when you said, 'the usual'. Outside of my Mother, she deserved true love more than any other girl I had ever met.  She made me believe in 'reality'. And fairy tales.

Across the hall, 5B, was Cosmo Kramer. One time, I was on a late night stroll and I saw him run over a dog. He made me believe in potential. And his crazy friend, George Costanza. He made me believe in redheads.

Phyllis Dae Sloan, 7C.  We had the best elevator conversations. She was a lot more than small talk. Sometimes I wonder if she invented Paris. She made me believe in being myself even if it didn't make others 'happy'.

Ren Stevens, I don't even know what apartment number she was. But I saw her jump. What a way to die. She made me believe in effort.

The janitor, Greg Ostertag. I watched him grow the best moustache I have ever seen. He made me believe in not shaving.

In 3B, there was Eva Harper. We only talked once. She taught how to properly eat a cupcake. She probably won't remember that she did, but I always will. She made me believe in hellos.

The doorman was Harold Miner. No matter the weather or the time of night, he would always be there holding open the door. He told me about the dunk contest of '94. And everything he's learned since. I hope he knows I was listening. He made me believe in Paris.

Then there was Dick Tidrow. My roommate.  I was sick of cleaning up his messes, so I just started making messes with him. And somewhere in between my first cigarette and our late night talks, it happened. I think it was when I was listening to a Cat Stevens song. But I can't be sure. He taught me how to ask a girl on a date. He said I had to learn how to do the kissing part on my own, so I'm still working on that. Other things he taught me about: Paris, jealousy, dialogue, chairs, instructions, stealing, remembering, words, direct orders, duct tape, bricks, Life, Death, thoughts, fears, Love, and introductions. He made me believe in myself.

There were many others: Lois, Sally, Mimi, Gene, Susan, Rene, Pete, Mr.Fox. Just to name a few.


Everyone said something, at least once, that meant something to me.


Thank you.