I have three months left in this apartment. I found that out today cause she called me, the one I’m renting this place from.
It’s not that it really shocked me, it’s not that I haven’t had this happening before and it’s not that I panic, cause I don’t.
The thing is that this never ends. And I want it to.
I want to be able to grow my roots.
I want to be able to have my place and spot in this world.
Sure, there are a lot of good things about moving; meeting new people, getting new experiences, new environment…
But it’s rootless…
I’m soaring again…
I’m not panicking. I’m just… sighing.
It goes round in a circle.
I don’t know where I belong or where to even start growing roots…
Planning something is just waste of time and I hate not to have things planned…
I am seeing the bright side of this but at the same time I feel like this isn’t a way to live, really…
I can’t buy a big and nice couch, cause I dont know if it will fit in the next place I’ll stay at
I can’t buy a cool wallpaper, cause I can’t put it up when the place is not mine
Things like that…

And I have too many things and trinkets around me
but I love my things!
I have such a hard time parting from my things cause they’re memories
but I can’t move around with my stuff anymore
I have to realize that this is my unintentional lifestyle
I can’t take a loan and buy an apartment because I don’t know where the hell I would buy one!
Where would I stay permanently if I got that chance?
Now that I’ve been moving around this much?
I’m not even sure about what city, what country, anything!

In worse case I have to go back living as a flatmate,
move all my stuff to my parents place again
Or the other option is renting second hand like I have now,
knowing that I could get kicked out of that one aswell

Nothing’s really mine.
And the feeling of release and feeling imprisoned is about 50/50