I want a home. I am not houseless, but I am homeless. This is no longer my home. It is the place where my things are. Or, more specifically, it is the place where my things are slowly getting damp and smelly due to the water still moving under the carpet. This is not my home.

My new home will be organized. It will be clean. It will not smell like the harbour. It will be home.

I just want to be able to take a shower, curl up on the couch, watch tv, read a book. I want to be myself. In my house.

No. In my home

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