the power went out in my apartment and now i dont know who I am anymore

I was on a work call when the lights flickered, once, twice, then they went off completely. Disconnected. I guess you could call it fate. For the rest of the night my bedroom lights flickered on and off at random, and I never returned to that call. I called maintenance, and they said nothing could be done until tomorrow at the earliest. So, I just in total darkness. For a while I worked on a blog post, and the glow of the screen lit up a corner of the room. Then I turned my laptop off and it was dark again. Something about the shadows paralyzed me and I just sat at my desk chair thinking.

Yesterday I lost my car key. I went on a walk to clear my head during lunchtime. Which worked, I did stop thinking, but only for half an hour and then my worries came back. The usual overthinking and all. I figured I dropped the key during my walk, just my luck. I did remember hearing a sound like a “thunk” halfway through, maybe that was it? I hurried outside and went on the same route before the sun set. I stared at the ground and scanned from side to side, but no sign of a key. Then I convinced myself that I’d left it in my car and gave up my search. I looked up again and let myself enjoy the walk and feel the gusts of wind from cars passing by.

When I made it home I checked my car, but it was locked. That meant I had removed the key from the car and locked it. And then placed it where…? I went back inside my apartment to join a work call. It went into the night, at the same time as a Samara Joy concert that I was supposed to be at with my friends. I found my mood shifting negative. According to bell hooks, whose words I respect, I have to find love in my work. But I want to go outside and I’m stuck in a screen.

The call ends. I ask Joyce and Maya how the concert went. They said she was amazing, which I can see from the video Cam sent. Poor me! I text Joyce about my keys she offers to call AAA so they can replace them. Which she didn’t have to do, but she is such a good friend. Maybe you’ll find your keys, she said, before AAA comes tomorrow. And then it hits me. What pants did I wear the day before? I go to the closet and check the pockets of the shorts I wore and there it was. Perhaps some unnatural force decided that I needed to go on that walk again. I needed to see the sun, I suppose (I would say I needed to touch grass. But. This is a desert).

So, anyway, getting back to the power. Or the lack of. I had no power in my room and I was just sitting in the dark thinking nothing. And then Leon called. Should you answer a call at midnight from your ex-boyfriend? Hm. Probably not. But it would be good content for the blog, I thought. I answered. We chatted. He’s reading my blog, which I already knew. It tracks. I haven’t written about him as to prevent him from latching on to some hint. And in general, I only write about current events. I don’t care to reminisce - nostalgia is a winding spider web. He did apologze regarding the cat piss couch I briefly mentioned in a previous post. Haha. He does enjoy my writing. He says my voice is deeply present, and that he can tell I “really love Phoenix.”

It went on. He was a little drunk, trying to sober up before a drive. Good excuse to call your ex-girlfriend I guess? The comedy thing is going well. At the bar he was at, a black woman hit on him. But you know, I’m a lover boy, he said, I’m not just looking for a hookup. He wants more Instagram followers. He wants to be famous. I admit that scares me. I don’t want a famous ex because somebody may find me and say hey, you dated that guy and missed out, now he’s rich and famous. And then I will want to argue well, no I didn’t exactly miss out, I did break up with him, and then I’ll be like hey, how do you even know me, and then I’ll be so embarrased, and then the public will compare me to whatever equally famous hot woman he is dating, and it will be so awkward. Like. Sooooo awkward. I don’t want fame (rich is fine). I prefer to be hidden.

Or is that true? Can I truly say I prefer to hide when I write and post and promote a public facing blog full of my sacrilegious thoughts? I was flattered to know he was reading my posts with such attention to detail. When I post I am essentially writing to an audience, hoping that someone will read and have some thoughts about the things I have to say. I guess we are the same, in that respect. This blog is a result of my innate need for attention…

Anyway the call was fine and pleasant. It was dark in my room, so dark he could just pop out from the shadows, a phantom. What would I do then. I would probably [REDACTED]

As he said goodbye the power came back on. Then it went off again.