Being Home

I’m and introvert. An introvert who like being with friends and talking to people, but still and introvert.

I need my space. I need physical space that is mine and no one else’s. I am not referring to personal bubble that is presence in social situations. I am referring physical space.

Where I currently live in North Manchester (for anyone not from small towns, it is pretty much the nowhere Indiana). I don’t like living in a small town. Neither would you if you were an international vagabond. But I have a house. Its my great aunt’s house and has been sitting vacant for 2 years, but it is a place to myself. I need space. Not only that, I need space that can be filled with my presence. I have picture on the walls, rooms arranged the way I want them, etc. The space becomes an extension of myself. I may not be the tidiest of individuals, but the house is very comfortable to me.

Its not the same when I am back in Fishers, staying with my parents. I sleep on an air matters in what used to be my room, but has long since been converted to a den. My parents have decorated it accordingly. It doesn’t help that my dads mac mini is in there, which reduces my privacy to zero. My brother on the other hand has 2 rooms to himself. I barely have an air mattres.

I only have what I bring with me. That is usually just a bookbag with clothes, my laptop, and toiletries. This time I have my camera bag and my custom “budget” gaming PC (which I dubbed the TeaMachine). But that still isn’t enough.

I just feel so drained when I am here. My body feels heavy and I just don’t have the energy to do anything. It is the same sensation as my depression at it’s worst. Empty catatonia. I have always felt a bit hopeless at my parents’ place ever since I finished school. Here I am for a whole week because of 2 job interviews this week. The only thing I want to do this week is study and learn Python. I lack the focus and motivation to do so. “What’s the point?” is repeated over and over again in my head (which is stupid, because software development == tons of job openings).

I don’t live here anymore. This is “home”, as in it is my current residence as far as that is concerned, but it isn’t home. Not anymore. Being here for more than a weekend is an unsettling reminder of that. I have made several attempts to escape, but I end up having to come back. LA, Europe (was only ever temporary), South Carolina. All of my attempts just led me back here.

Only thing I can do is grab several cups of tea and other caffeinated beverages to try and raise my energy levels. I am home for a week, and I need to do something more productive than sitting around waiting for the week to end. Coding must be learned. Interviews must be had. I need to get off my lazy but and do something with my life.


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