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Saturday, 10 December 2011

[ ..nomad.. ]

In my 22 years of life, I had lived in seven different places.

I had participated in two major house to house moves and three room to room moves. I can officially tell people that I hate moving houses now.

But I still cannot avoid it because no matter how comfortable and happy I am at my current place now, I still don't belong.

I'd trying to find a place where I really belong for a long long time. When I was a child, I slept in my parents room - on the floor. When I turned 11, I was moved to my siblings' room because one of them moved out to the city.

Then, when everyone (my siblings) left me all alone at 15, I finally had a room all by myself. But my parents decided to not sleep in the same room anymore and one of them moved into the same room as I am. So, once again, I am sharing a room with someone else.

People asks me why is privacy is important to me. Well, isn't that very clear now. I was never alone. Mentally, I am alone, but physically it never was the case. It still is.

Even after I moved to the city, I was forced to once again share a room with the occupants (my siblings) because I have no money to pay the rent yet and there is lack of space. For a while, I slept in the living room - the ultimate lack of privacy as one of the rooms in the house was rented to a tenant and it is a 'he', who walks in and out all the time.

I couldn't even get frustrated at the situation because I wasn't paying nuts to anyone for staying in there. I was a burden, basically.

But after I found a job and the 'he' moved out of the house, I moved into the room - finally privacy - but not really. The room is very small and suffocating, leading to the 24/7 opened door to let some air in. Where is the privacy, really?

Later, we moved to another bigger place and they told me that I can pay the rent and I can have the room, but - I am once again sharing the room with people. Due to the fact that I lived in an apartment and windows are hazardous to cats, I couldn't let the window open once again (although I could have done something to bar the window but able to let the air in and out...) and the door is open every single minute of my life there, except for the times when I have to change.

I felt extremely frustrated at that moment. Not only that I am paying rent, I still have no privacy due to an open door and also mostly because I am once again sharing my room with someone really unreasonable, irritable, irrational and illogical.

Privacy? That never existed in my life - not at all.

With my recent move to this new place, which is extremely comfortable, has great housemates and awesome facilities, I am very very happy indeed. I will still continue to pay the rent, of course, but I think this worth a lot more than it was before at the other places.

I am tired of moving from places to places. I am dying to find my own home sweet home. But at what cost (literally)?

It has been exactly one week since I packed my bags to this place. I am sincerely as happy as a woodpecker pecking his way through a hard block of wood. But how long will this happiness last?

When will be the next time where I have to be a nomad once again?

I just want to belong. And like I said, as much as I love this place, this still isn't mine. I still do not belong. I am still breathing in other people's air. And it is not nice to do that for all my life.

So many dilemmas. So many decisions. So many hopes and wishes. So little time. So little life.

Once when I was 16, I told myself that it will be great to die young. Just be done with life. Give it a great 'fuck you, I don't need you, life!' attitude. Then, when I turned 20, I don't feel like dying young anymore because I realised that I have so many things to accomplish, so many things to experience in life.

Now, it is obvious that those low self-esteem thinking is back and I really just want to be done with life as soon as possible. I figured out that even with those things that I could accomplish, with those things that I might have experienced, I will still die one day. I might even just die tomorrow morning. We never know.

It is easy to be contented with what you have but to be happy is another matter. Happiness is difficult to reach. You can have everything in your life but if you have nothing to feel happy for, you are just an empty shell.

I am an empty shell. For now, maybe. But, as of now, this shell shall remain empty until I am able to find a new shell with goodies in it.

I know to say that I am a nomad is just an exaggeration. But I certainly feel that way now.

Anyways, cat's purring is inviting me to the bed now. All these words and paragraphs do not really matter. I should smile to face the day now. Or maybe I can always show them the poker face for the rest of my life.

It doesn't matter, we are all going to die anyway. Good night.

:: stitched on` ::*|04:00|

:: [0] care[s] ::


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:: ..it is me.. ::
Ailurophile. Irascible. Desultory. Furtive.


:: ..Type Here.. ::

:: ..pages i stalk.. ::
..queen of mushrooms..
..best page on earth..

:: ..Tick Tock.. :: --------------------------------------

:: ..Calender 2013.. ::


::..Wishes.. ::
~ eternal financial stability, bitch
~ Tokyo solo 2013
~ to Japan, I go for second time!
~ to Japan, I go!
~ Canon G12
~ Superheadz Ultra Wide and Slim!
~ Superheadz Golden Half!
~ new camera!
~ a studio home
~ publish a novel/short stories compilation

:: ..Crédits.. ::
Blog Désign: Michiika
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