Musings upon existance

I’m curious, really.

What the heck am I doing here right now? I mean the physical here, not metaphysical.

I’m sitting in the condo, which I still barely call home. I have trouble saying “come over to my house”. I say “come over to my place.”

I have no house now. My house is my Dad’s house. That’s what I think of when I say “my house”.

This stupid economy… has me stuck in a place I will never escape without going bankrupt. And I’m starting to think it might be worth it.

I cannot spent time with people I want to be with. I would rather sleep at my dad’s house, than in this place. I would rather sleep at my lady’s house, than this place. I would rather spend time with my cousin and my friends, than subject them to this place. I do not want to “come home” to this place. It serves… no purpose.

What use is life if you spend it alone? i don’t want to spend any more time in this place. I’ve lived here for 10 years in a bad investment and learned one thing: I fucking hate condominiums.

I’m ready to go. I’m ready to leave. To move onwards unto the future.

Home isn’t in place. It’s where your heart is. and my heart isn’t in this place. It’s with my lady, my family, and my friends.

 

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