Boxed Life

It has been a long while since I've got to sleep in my own bed. I've been sleeping in borrowed beds,couches,and mattresses on the floor. I've been kicked out of one living situation in to a not living situation. Technically I am a homeless person,I have no permenatnt place of residence. And, I can't find a job; it is like I have a huge stamp on my forehead that says "do not hire." At this point in my life I should be a somewhat thriving,stressed,ready for summer college kid,but I'm not...and I won't be for a long time. The not being able to find a job means I am usually sans money,which means I barely ever have enough spare change to put gas in my car let alone take my ACT which I need to apply for any and all of the schools I would LOVE to attend. My family helps me as much as they can,as well as my mom since she is in a similar place.

Last year I was living in a place that felt more like home than any other place that I have ever lived in my life. People were more open an accepting of everything.

Now I am back "living" in my "hometown" where everyone judges every move you make and critizies for every choice you do and don't make. I was raised there but I never fit in,and I never want to.

Last year when someone would ask me where I live I would proudly tell them.

Now I hate when people ask me that because it hurts to much to tell them I don't live anywhere;I usually make a joke out of it,but it really hurts to tell people that.

I was plucked away from my real friends,and my real home.

Then I was put back in a place where I only thought I had real friends,and where my real home has been reduced to a now mildewed pile of boxes under a covered concrete slab that is exposed to the elements and anyone who passes by 24/7.

I know the circumstances kill my mom,who just wants me to be me,and be happy,she tries really hard. I know it makes her sad that she can't provide for me the way she wants to. I want her to know that it is okay,and she give me more than she knows. She accepts me,supports me and my crazy self,and just loves me for who I am,and even thinks my crazy tattoo obsession is cool.

I couldn't be more thankful than I am for having the mom that I do.

And my dad,wow,he has shocked me in the recent extra time I've got to spend with him. Let's just say that I know where I get my passion for traveling from.

Thanks dad for showing me something new about yourself that reminds me where I come from.

On an almost closing note,I miss all of my friends so much that it kills me. I don't think anyone understands. I want to tell them on a daily basis,but I'm afraid that they don't miss me half as much as I miss them. And part of me is waiting for them to be the people who falter and say it first,but they never do. I actually rarely hear from them,I know they have lives,but I miss my friends!

I truly am glad to have them in my life,they aren't bad friends...I'm just forgetful...kind of like that $20 you leave in you pants and find when you are cleaning your room a few months later,you forgot you had it but are supper excited to have found it.

All in all my situation makes me sad when I think about it.

Homeless,job less,bruised spirit.

But I keep moving on,growing each day.

I cry often,but I smile more.

Because my boxes are only half full.