leaving "home"...

My last day. In this house, in this part of the country. The next time I come here, I don’t live here anymore, I just come to visit. In one way it’s weird, I mean, I’ve been living down here for most of my life, although I don’t like saying it, but it’s true. 14 years of my life, 10 of them in this house. A house I’m moving from, and my mom is probably selling. She and her new boyfriend are out house shopping. Yet another thing that suddenly came out in the open.

I’ve never been to close to this place, yeah, I’ve been living here for a long time, but still it doesn’t feel like home. But is there anyplace I really do feel like home? The place I’ve been feeling the most home has been at our cabin in the mountain. And sometimes I feel like I’m home in Svg. But otherwise, I rarely feel like I am home. So, why is it kind of hard to pack up the last things, saying goodbye to my room, the house… a home that really haven’t been a home…

The years I’ve had here have taught me a lot of things. It has taught me what I crave for, what I want and what I don’t want. I have learned valuable lessons, and lessons I shouldn’t have learned. Although I don’t like saying it, this house, this place, means a lot to me. Still, I don’t feel sad leaving, I feel ignored sometimes, considering my mom is planning to sell the house without notifying me, but still; what have I got to say? From tomorrow I no longer live here. And I no longer will. Ever again.

I really have to go pack up the last of the things. In about two and a half hour I’m leaving to attend a thing with my job, and everything has to be ready before I leave. 08.00 am tomorrow morning we’re going. I leave. I move. Going to find a place I can call home, and a place that will feel like it as well. I hope I’ll find it someday. Right now I have to pack my stuff, find my things and be ready to leave. Go on. Try to find my place. My home.