There's something different about living with person or persons only known shortly. I'm not talking about the personal chore of changing and unchanging in some dark nook, or closing the door to the bathroom, but to exhibit the habitual aspect of yourself: the way in which you blow-dry your hair and wave your head upside down, or the way you arrange your roast beef sandwich or printing looseleaves.
There's an element of you in those everyday things, and I feel, in some way, you lose a part of your mystery, like some other force tearing into your embeddedness before Christmas.
I also think it's strange to sleep so close to someone, seeing one thousand sunrises and sunsets and waking up to only witness one. This most sacred and secretive time for dreams is shared. Perhaps I'm just a very private person in some respects, but I would reveal what I think about the most intimate topics before coming to terms with someone else seeing the most mundane, and that alone is what irritates me.
