Mental Trainwreck Honesty Hour, Part 1

I wish I had a home.

I have biological relatives with houses, but that’s not the same thing.

My roommate… I’m so jealous of him. I already wrote that he’s going home to work for a few months so he can spend some time volunteering in Japan. I don’t really care about the whole “Japan” thing (I’m more passionate about European history)… It’s the home thing.

Yes, there is a place where I was born and raised, and yes, my father still lives near there. But that can no longer be my home. Even if he had the room for me in his small apartment, I would be a virtual prisoner. His town does not have public transportation so I would be unable to work, dependent on him for everything.

I tried that once, the small town life, with other people I once considered family. How did that end up? With me crying into an ice pack because my eardrum burst and I was unable to go to the hospital because the one city bus had stopped running hours earlier and I’d be damned if I was going to ruin my credit even further calling an ambulance. I can’t live somewhere that requires a car to survive.

I can’t decide whether to be sad or angry. When my roommate leaves here at the end of February, he will have a bed of his own, a place to keep his things, people to ask him how his day was when he gets home from work.

I want to believe that the people mentioned in my previous post will help me. Maybe they will, last minute as always. Realistically, I will probably end up in another rental with strangers who can uproot their lives and leave me homeless for a fourth or fifth time. There is no stability. There is no safety net here. Anywhere.

I’m angry at myself for wanting it…a safety net of some kind. I put on such a front at work and with Tyler and my roommate. “I don’t need anyone.” “I’m doing everything by myself.”

Cody has his parents. Tyler has his mom and sister. My internet friends have families. People need them. I want someone to need me. Someone with a spare bed in a place where I can be independent. So when things get hard, I can “go home” too.

But people don’t adopt late-20s adults.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s