Unfinished

I am staring up at the ceiling from my new bed.

My bed is very comfortable and is brand new with soft sheets and cool blankets, toppled over me.

On the ceiling there is a light fixture still covered in plastic and I am not tall enough to reach it.

The Air conditioning is broken but it's cooler today than it has been all week so I open the windows and listen to the bustling traffic below. 

Suitcases are my only furniture at this point and I have things stacked on top of them like bed side tables. 

The move to New York has been harder than I'd let on to anyone back home. There have been a million and one problems I could not fix and had to rely on people who did not care about me or my problems at all. 

I like being independent.

I moved to this city all alone for a reason, I can be selfish and I wanted to do things my way.

But now there's plastic on the light fixture, and I can't reach it.

Do I try to contact my asinine building manager, the boy I'm seeing who doesn't seem to want to come to my place, or leave it be?

I think instead I will plant a seed and grow a tree to climb and take it off myself because that is easier than asking for help.