Homeless

Is what I am.


I've now officially moved out of my old apartment. Or, I did so yesterday. Did the last of the cleaning and handed over the key, and then drove off with the remaining things I had there. Now I am officially homeless. All of my things are packed in boxes and stashed away, and I have my most used clothes in suitcases and my papers in a backpack or two, and I am taking up the bed in the basement at my parents' house... I have no home.

My mum wants me to feel at home at their place, and stay for as long as I need to, and I'm really grateful for that, but it's still not my home. I'm still living in suitcases and boxes. I can't unpack my things, settle in, make any roots. It's not my home.
I'm watching the house while they're away on vacation, so right now I've got the place to myself, but it still doesn't feel right. It's nice to have an entire house at my disposal, but I'm still just borrowing it. I'm just temporarily crashing here cause I have nowhere else to stay. No other bed to sleep in.

I wish so badly that I had a secure place to call my home. Some firm ground beneath my feet.

There is absolutely nothing to rent in this town. The few places there are, are either shady places owned by some rather questionable people, or really expensive places that I can't afford. And neither can I take up a loan so I can buy myself a home, cause I don't have a proper income. Because of my health - my mental health - I can't have a proper job, and thus I have no money. And because of this, I get no help. No chance of getting a loan so I can get a home.

Had I been a drug addict, or an alcoholic, then they would've placed a home in my lap, or even the money to buy me a home. But no, I have a mental condition, and that's not the type of illness that the Norwegian health care system prioritize. I'm practically worthless to them.

That's how great the system is.

So now I'm homeless, a 25-year-old crashing at my parents' place, while I'm crossing my fingers and desperately hoping that something good'll come my way so that I can finally sit down and just relax. And have a home.

*

My mental condition? Falling apart. This week have been a really hard week, with a lot of turbulence, and way too many things to take in and to think about. Moving out of my apartment and into suitcases. Desperately trying to get help so that I can get myself a home. And so many other things I'd rather not even mention. I can feel my head cracking under all this pressure, and I have no idea what's keeping it all together right now. I can't count how many times I've had to pull myself really hard together so that I didn't fall apart these last couple of days. How many times I've had to swallow my tears away and just bite down to be able to keep going.

I'm so tired. I just want to give up. I just want to go to sleep, and never wake up.

I honestly have no clue how long I'll be able to keep this up and keep on going before I fall apart. I've been so dangerously close to that edge so many times now, that I am tempted to just jump from it and get it over with. Whatever it is that keeps me going, sooner or later I'll run out. And that's when things'll blow up in my face.

It would be nice, though, going out with a bang.