moving day

Another year, another move. Another lease is up, and my address must be changed. Four years now, I have moved every March. I don’t feel like I have a home, you know. I mean, a home is someplace you always belong. I don’t belong anywhere. I only visit for a year, then I move along.

She tries to tell me I have a home with them, but Karen doesn’t understand why I’m a little sad. “You look sad” is what she told me all day, as we packed boxes and moved them to her home. Where I will be staying for a time. Visiting yet another domicile while I figure out what the next move will be. I love this girl, but she just can’t comprehend it. She’s never felt that way, after all.

I’ve been depressed, again. I know it. I also know it will pass. I can’t help it. Life is folding in on itself again, chaning once more, evolving into something unfamiliar. I make plans, and they bust through at the seams again. Maybe it’s just me being emo. I don’t like change.

On the better side of things, I will have a vehicle again soon. I know a guy at work. Joe. Joe buys and fixes cars, and when he gets bored with them he sells them off. Last month he was doing this with a van. He wanted $500, but with taxes and insurance I couldn’t pay it for a few more weeks. Tonight, he called and said he didn’t mind if I paid what I could now after transfering the title and getting insurance, then paid the rest back later. I don’t like owing people money, but I need a vehicle. Also, a van is helpful when moving. So soon I will have reliable transportation once more.

And that’s things now. Not great, not awful, but making me uneasy. I should be happier. I’m working on that.