Friday, July 4, 2008


I came home from work today, and my landlord was there, and said "I'm going to be showing your apartment to somebody now". I knew this was happening, and I thought I had come home late enough to avoid awkwardly sitting in here while people nosed around my living space, buuut I didn't. It's not really a big deal, people could nose around all they want. Even if they are the neighbours from three doors down. I am nosy too, I understand! Watching people walk through my apartment, just kind of hit home how close to the end it is, and in two months time, I'll be....somewhere, and that somewhere won't be here.

Moving out of the apartment is going to happen at the end of August. I have been mentally preparing myself for this since February. I really do love this apartment, but I find myself becoming more and more detached from it. Like, I can't really care. It is a place to sleep, and that's all I can let it be. I have a habit of becoming really attached to *home*. Home is a place that is mine, a safe little haven to come back to after a day away or a week away. It is where all my stuff is, and where I feel like I fit. I need that constant in my life to feel a semblance of sane. But right now, I don't have it. I have been slowly detaching my notion of this place as *home* for several months now, so that in August, I can walk away from it, and not feel as though I want to burst into tears.

I know it is just an apartment, and it was never really mine to begin with. I am merely a tenant. One in a long line of tenants who came before me, and a long line of tenants who will come after. It is not like I was planning to spend the rest of my life here, but I had grown to like it and moving all the time is a bloody drag. I understand the need for change though, and I have accepted it, and am even looking forward to what September may bring for me (cause as of right now smack dab in this moment I have no idea)...all that being said though, moving still sucks.

The location of this apartment ROCKS. My room is pretty. I have a closet big enough to fit all my clothes. The landlord is so so great. The apartment is huge. I need to let go of all these things.

The idea of moving again has hit me so hard, because it seems that this is the year of moving. And while I am perfectly fine with change, I still want a home base. When everything else in my life is in a sort of least I have the familiarity of my home. My parents recently moved out of the house that I grew up in. It was the only house I ever lived in, and while I completely understand and support their choice to move on up to the North side, it didn't make it any less difficult. Any time I drive down our old street, and see our old house, I still think, "there is my house." I'll never be able to go into it again, ever. It's not my house anymore. A whole lot of my life happened there, but it is no longer my house.

Perhaps I place too much emphasis, and get too attached to the places where I live. I just don't know. I can't imagine not being attached to the place that I live though. The actual house people live in, and the community that that house is within makes up so much of a person. The next place I move too, it's gotta last for a while. I need to establish a home base, a place where even though everything else is swirling around me, I can open the front door, and fit right in.

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