Don't you want me?

While I prefer living in New York State over South Carolina—Charleston being the exception—New York's advantages are not always clear-cut despite its many benefits.

The locals here, particularly in Peekskill, tend to be more genuine and less pretentious than those in California—San Francisco being the exception—and certainly more so than in South Carolina's Pee Dee/Grand Strand region. However, this blog is not focused on that, nor on regions or people at all. Instead, its purpose is to address my aversion to rats, which is particularly intense here in New York, unlike anything I have experienced elsewhere. I have seen them in the city, the size of cats, maneuvering through grates while carrying enormous slices of pizza, which initially frightened me.  I thought I had recovered from that experience that no longer bothered me until now.

Recently, a bold mouse or rat, which are all similar, scurried across my kitchen floor, an occurrence that horrified and prompted me to scream without being touched. The audacity of that creature to be there at all, uninvited with its dirty pink feet and beady black eyes that seem to convey a direct message, "na na na, you cannot catch me!" right in front of my face.

Whatever it really said worked because I felt insane and couldn't sleep after the glass of water, I thought I wanted I didn't want anymore.

I was determined to catch it as I had a brain fever. I was determined not to let it win.

But at that time of the night, the creature scurried out of sight, and another one followed, the child or the mate or mother I supposed I knew was still there, lurking between the wall, concealed from my view and taunting me with an incessant nibble that kept my eyes wide open.

No, I did not sleep. In fact, I did nothing at all except lie in bed, listening for any reoccurring movement; that was forlorn.

My landlord states that this is a common during cold weather, as mice seek warmth in our homes, which I find unsettling. He has undertaken some repairs in the basement and set numerous traps; however, I remain uncertain about their effectiveness, as the noises within the walls continue to startle me endlessly.

Although my lease prohibits pets, I have advocated for acquiring a cat avoid the cruelty of glue traps and the grim task of dealing with trapped mice. My landlord has given his approval, so it appears I will soon be adopting a kitten. The cat belonging to my upstairs neighbor recently had a litter, and one of the kittens has been reserved for me. But do I really want a cat, a kitten, I keep telling myself? Am I insane?  Am I not enough for myself as I've always been? What happens when i want to be alone, completely alone and unbothered as I can be, and that kitten wants his belly rubbed?

It'll be like now...assisting a Latin friend who is temporarily staying with me. He presents more challenges than I anticipated, but everyone needs help at times, and I have grown quite attached to him, despite my deeper feelings for someone else, in another place and time that works probably because it's at a distance. My walls are hard to break.  In the case of this fellow young enough to be my son if I had a son but I never wanted one or a child, so the line ends with me the way it is...I am surprised by his struggles of low self-esteem that I listen to half the night, especially considering the significant Hispanic community here, which may or may not contribute to the issue.

Hearing a grown man cry is a shock for me because didn't think man could cry and complain so much. I have never been a part of community, never apart of anything really except myself and the world I create is whatever I desire...except true friendships, IMHO, are difficult. Perhaps the perceived notion closeness of the community I see is merely that—a perception.

Who knows what is considered normal is really normal at all with a mouse still crawling between the walls.
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Are you lookin' for a new love
Or does commitment seem to bring you down?
Is that a look of yes or is it no?
Please don't tease me, oh

Want me, don't you want me
To touch you and to hold you tight?
Don't you want me like I want you
To kiss and love all through the night?

--Jody Watley, 'Don't You Want Me?'