i find myself continually coming back to the wish for a home. and the question, what does it mean to have a home? what makes a home? seeing as how, yes i sleep somewhere. under a roof, in a single bed with a desk beside it. there is a bathroom with a toilet, sink and shower that i have access to, and also a fully equipped kitchen. it’s all sheltered from the elements, and in passing, a stranger could easily, offhandedly refer to this structure as a “home”. but to me it is not that at all and i can say with complete confidence that it will never be a home to me.
with that being said, what does make up a home if it is not the physical structures? i’ve rented places that felt like home before, so i don’t think that it’s the ownership of something that gives it that homeyness.
from my frequent browsing of kijiji listings, halifax seems like it’s pretty short on promising, affordable places to live. as much as i never want to go to the structure in which i sleep/shower/occasionally eat, i haven’t really come across many other compelling options. i have my ear to the ground, but there’s another sort of trouble that comes into the mix, which is the tension between myself here in halifax and myself in montreal, and my desire to dig in roots in my current location is thwarted by my knowing that i am soon to be departing, and then the idea of that is furthur complicated by my eventual return to halifax, which i again face the question of not having a home. the question of not having a home is in fact one that i can project over the next two years and feel an inescapable looming shadow of always-feeling-displaced. i’m sure that that will not be the case, and i’m just considering all of the worst-possible-outcomes because that’s what i seem to do in my mind – if i am miserable in my “home” situation now, so it must always be! which is, of course, ridiculous and not true but somehow my inability to see into the future allows all of my fears to come tumbling out and ends in me becoming convinced that i’m doomed to aloneness and unhappiness and a victim of terrible circumstances.
which is crazy.
anyway. there is a limitedness in options right now but i am seriously considering moving. the question of where i would move TO is immensely troubling though, though perhaps not as troubling as what it feels like when i think about having to go to that house where i sleep every night. usually i do become tired enough at a certain point to accept my fate and trudge up the big steep hill to get there, unlock the door, feign friendliness and retreat into my terrible room, the cat meowing outside my door like the world is going to end and the only way it can communicate that to humans is through insane, erratic meowing. i hate that fucking cat. i’ve never in my life hated an animal as i hate that cat.
it’s interesting how one can experience intense loneliness without ever really having much alone time or privacy, and actually still crave ALONE TIME.
i want to build a fort.