biggieif my room had a name, it would be

smalls.

i’m not exactly sure how normal people find apartments in new york city,but i found mine via email

i looked at the pictures

talked to the roommates

and after a careful consideration period

of 5 whole minutes

i said, “i’ll take it.”

i was happy. i had a room i could call my own in an apartment in new york city.

so i packed my bags

waved goodbye to my family

and hopped on a bus

(because everyone was too afraid to drive me into the city of crazy cab drivers)

when i arrived at my building

my new roommate helped me carry my bags

up

six

flights

of

stairs

six.

after she opened the door to our apartment,i realized my lofted room had its own set of stairs

seven.

(to calm my wheezing, i tried to imagine my future toned thighs)

after making it to the top of everest, i collapsed on my new bed

my new big, comfy bed

upon regaining the strength to move, i propped myself up to survey my surroundings

my room was adorable, it had:two big skylights

plenty of floor space

dresser

desk

comfy reading chair

and a door leading out to a large roof deck

but when i got up off my bed, i noticed something funny

i couldn’t stand up.

my room, despite its adorableness had a five foot ceiling

i am 5’5”

inches

separate my adorable room

from

perfection

but my room was so cute

that i couldn’t end our relationship

because of one little flaw

so i slowly learned how to live small

at first i felt a lot like quasimodo.

but now i’m more like catherine zeta jones in entrapment

of course every now and again, my room decides to hit me upside the head

and i yell back hurtful things

(it’s never my fault, of course)

****

but all in all, biggie smalls and i are happy together

(imagine him smiling)