Today I moved out of my condo and into a shared townhouse. It was a little hard leaving behind what I’ve worked so hard for over the past year. I still remember the excitement of moving in; picking out new furniture, settling into a home of my own. I thought this was it. I thought I’d ticked off another item on the 10-point American Dream checklist and I didn’t think I’d choose to leave again. But here I am, feeling like I’m back where I started four years ago.
It’s definitely an adjustment going from the heavens of the 37th floor with a view of the lake to a dingy humble room with mismatched furniture and a rock-hard single bed. While I know this will be good for me in the long run, I can’t help but think, “there’s yet another place I can’t call home”.
I’ve always been looking for a ‘home’. And I don’t just mean a room in which to crash at night – I mean a place to associate myself with; somewhere I will always seek to return to regardless of where the wind takes me. I haven’t ever had such a place, but it’s something I desperately wish I did.
Recently, something just seems to be lacking. I have a routine and the stability of a life I always wanted growing up, but something’s just missing. Even though there are times when I laugh and smile, I’ve never been so unhappy. Nights and mornings are especially difficult – I can’t get to sleep, but when I finally do, I never want to wake up. I feel like I’m getting more and more lost, and I don’t even have an approximate idea of which direction I should head in. Maybe it’s because I don’t have a place to return to, nor a place to aspire to be, but I’m searching for something that even I don’t know what.
I hope that what I have planned for after graduation will help me find whatever it is that I’m looking for, but right now, I really do just feel like I’m adrift at sea, waiting for someone to find me, but at the same time, not expecting it to happen.