What it’s like to live with an invisible housemate

I know you live here, but I have never seen you


I have lived in my apartment for two weeks, but I have yet to meet the other person living here. I know they live here, because I see remnants of their presence. I hear water running when they shower, I hear them open and close their doors, and I hear them play music or talk on the phone.

I have tried hanging around the kitchen to see if I catch a glimpse of them, but the only consistent company I have in there is a bottle of soy milk sitting on the counter, which, by the way, I think has definitely gone bad by now.

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I have tried leaving my room door open in case they walk past, but to no avail. I am starting to believe that every time they hear me close my door, they step outside, as though they're avoiding any human contact. I know for a fact that they were inside their room when I knocked on their door to introduce myself, because despite there being no answer, I heard some shuffling in there.

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I may have never seen their face, but I know their routine. They seem to take a shower at noon, play the same playlist on repeat every afternoon, and step outside of the room whenever they hear my door close.

So here's a letter to the invisible housemate:

Why do you seem to like moving your furniture around, or maybe just banging on your walls? I routinely hear loud noises, almost as though you were throwing bowling balls directly at my wall, at around midnight.

I know you like ramen, because there's seven packs of ramen sitting on the kitchen counter. I also know you tried to be healthy by buying fruit, but it hasn't been touched since it was put in the kitchen. So why don't you clean it up?

I noticed we have some things in common. I like drinking, and you leave wine bottles and rum in the kitchen, so I am thinking you like drinking too. We also both like Starbucks drinks, which could make us fast friends, except you don't recycle your cups properly so maybe you could start doing that?

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I also found your candy wrappers in the fridge and started wondering if you meant to leave them there as a way to remind me you exist, or if you just forgot to throw them away.

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I know you live here, but it's as though I live alone. Sometimes, I almost doubt myself that the person even moved in, I start thinking maybe its all in my imagination, but then I find Kit-Kat wrappers in the trash and I remember there is someone else living in my house.

So, if you know someone that fits all of these characteristics, please tell them its their turn to take out the trash.