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your roof is on fire, you're losing control

i have a tendency to look back on the past with a weird longing. even if it was a time i hated, something is comforting about knowing what the situation felt like, what things i was worried about, what the outcome was going to be. it only seems in retrospect that i can recognize what sort of things brought me happiness. i remember them in little flashbacks; episodes of lightheartedness and peacefulness.

i lived with some roommates last year. it didn't work out. but i made sure to document everything as i was moving out, and sorting through those pictures made me miss that time. even though i was eager to get out of the situation, there were things about it that i do miss.

it was a pretty cool little house. it was an older house with a lot of character. my closet & the wall had built in shelves that were really more useful for decorating than for storing anything.



it was kind of like an i-spy wall. your eyes are not deceiving you; that bottom shelf did indeed have three sticks of deodorant. you can never have too much. i also learned here that you can never have too many pictures torn out of magazines, and that said pictures pair incredibly well with blue hair and christmas lights. 



[an inside look at the fort]

my roommates were on a mission to collect enough bottle caps to make a tabletop [they were really great at everything pinterest]. we lived close to the tech campus and bottlecaps were pretty easy to come by. sometimes really generous drunks would even leave them on our sidewalk. 

[i would link to jenna marbles' landshark video here but it's 30% f-words and my mom reads this blog]

moving on.

after i made the decision to move out [following some broken glass and a hole in the wall], i moved pretty quickly. it didn't take very long to scoop up all of my deodorants and throw everything into my jeep.


 it was weird and slightly bittersweet to see the room at its fundamental skeletal structure. it's usually when i get right to the end like this that i feel regret, uncertainty, and hesitation. but i powered through. i took down the christmas lights and headed out [taking the microwave i bought, as the ultimate move in passive aggression].


i know that whatever the circumstances may be, i always have a home at my mothers. luckily in this situation, it happened to just be a ten minute drive away. i pulled up on the front lawn, opened my bedroom window, and started throwing my crap straight from the jeep through the window and onto my bedroom floor, announcing loudly that i was home. prepare to eat. 


that began a new phase of life, one where i met some new challenges and learned different ways of coping. more importantly it was a time where i learned that brick acts as a sound insulator, meaning that when you live in a brick house you can play your music just as loudly as you want to.


despite all the miserable feelings i have or the dumb messes i get myself into, i always have a home on the back burner, equipped with a family that love me and sisters who still think i'm COOL. i hope that never changes.

 [title from party in your bedroom by cash cash]

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