when i moved out of my parents’ house, that was still home. i could go back if i failed and it was still home. then i found a room of my own, and that was home. other things were home that are gone. then i had to leave the room that was mine even if it was bad by then. and i found a place to be that was good and safe. and i won’t be without a place to go, no matter what. i might have to be in another temporary place that doesn’t feel right, but i’ll have a place to go.
but, i have no home. i have never felt that before and i didn’t even realize it, because it’s a mental thing. you can leave home and that’s a feeling but you don’t notice when it stops being home, as long as somewhere else is. the void is continuously filled, so you don’t register that it exists, and that it might go unfilled at some point.
none of the places that were home are home anymore and i didn’t realize that happened and i don’t like this and i am so tired