I was visiting my Seattle best friend M’s house the other day when it hit me. M and her housemate just moved a couple of weeks ago to a house that’s a ten-minute walk from mine and their place is beautiful.
It’s definitely a house where people in their twenties live (surprisingly most of their things aren’t from IKEA) but their collection of furniture and the way they decorated the space makes it feel very homey and lived-in.
This is what I want. I want it so badly. I want to be in a permanent place that I can call my own, where I’m not afraid to buy art for the walls because I’ll probably be moving again in a couple of months. I want a place that feels like mine, not a room in my housemates’ home. It’s not my current housemates’ faults either — they’ve encouraged me to put my things up and decorate. The problem is I don’t have any things.
In my room, I have some decorations up, but they’re all the kind that are easily taken down and anyway, most of the pictures are from three years ago, the last time I bothered to print photos out or collect postcards.
It’s so frustrating feeling confined to living a short-term lifestyle. When I first moved in to my current place, we had an agreement that I would be on a two-month trial period. If it didn’t work out, I’d have a month to move out after that. In the beginning I didn’t know if I wanted to stay — there was no internet, it was always freezing, I had a lot of anxiety around sharing food, I thought R completely hated me, I had no place to put my clothes — so I lived out of my suitcases for a month.
The only reason why I set up my room was because my neighbor gave me an old dresser and one of my best friends from Vancouver was coming to town so I had to make my room look presentable. And when I did finally put it together (the initial bit took eight hours), I was so much happier. I felt like it was my bedroom and not a place where I just slept on piles of clothes.
I want that feeling again with my own space though, maybe living with one other person. I want more room to spread out and paint and furnish things and make it my/our home. I want to buy a record player and speakers so I can finally play my music, I want plants to water and admire, I want my own bed — a mattress with a bed frame and and amazing duvet, not the shitty free futon that I wake up on ten times a night with bed sores. I want to be able to have people spend the night without having to worry if the entire house will hear us or judge us. I want to have the freedom of inviting friends over and not worrying that I’m keeping my housemates up. I don’t want anyone to eat my eggs.
It’s so frustrating not being able to afford the things I want to create a home. Mostly I just want a bed, for Pete’s sake. Everything else I’m cool with getting from Craigslist or friends but I have a couple hundred dollars to my name right now with no job and an intense feeling of being stuck. I mean, this was me in March when I had a job — I still couldn’t afford stuff and felt stuck, although now I have more friends, which has helped. But the feeling remains, only now the fall is coming.
I’m hoping this desire to create my own home will inspire me to find a fucking job. I want more. Not just “things” but a sense of permanence, roots, and ownership — to settle in and live without wondering if I should even bother printing out new photos.
"Decide you want your dreams more than they scare you."
— Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner (via psych-facts)
the idea of people having to be ‘useful’ is just so gross, like people do not exist to be used
having to produce something and have a use is a capitalist ideal and not an intrinsic part of humanity
just by being alive you are human and you are worth something and you can never be useless
summer Seattle summer friendships sun crushes summer sun beach sun beach outdoor movies potential hot Seattle summer summer skinny dipping sun beach outdoor makeouts movies crushes summer Seattle summer friendships summer potential beach potential hot Seattle summer makeouts crushes sun summer Seattle magical hot beautiful
feeling immense guilt should be the new aesthetic
Solidarity with survivors of multiple traumas.
Solidarity with unstable survivors.
Solidarity with survivors of multiple kinds of abuse, over long periods of time.
Solidarity with survivors with complex narratives.
Solidarity with quiet survivors.
Solidarity with survivors who can’t find their voice, survivors who can’t express themselves well or at all or in the ways that make others comfortable.
Solidarity with ‘bad’ survivors, survivors who can’t set an example.