It’s now turned into this. Forlorn. Stripped of my spirit.

I’m not yet done emptying my drawers and dismantling my laundry area. I’m so exhaustee. Must wake up very early tomorrow to finish everything.

My friend, M, asked me when we had our drinks last Friday if I’m sad. He was more sad for me at that time. I said not yet because I was in the thick of taking down stuff. He said, “but it has been your home for the last five years, imagine that. It was yours.”

Now it has sunk in. This is like the first true home I had because the ones I lived in before weren’t mine in the sense I wasn’t allowed to personalize them. I couldn’t put my stamp on them. Plus I wasn’t comfortable in those houses at all. They weren’t home, I didn’t feel rested and protected. I didn’t feel nostalgic about them. This apartment is different; it felt like a cocoon for me.

Fare thee well.