I think.

My moving into this new place.

I feel monumentally lonely in this inhuman cubicle.

So I finally surrendered and had an aircon installed (like yay) after all the stubborn battle with something as obnoxious as the Malaysian weather. What was i, insane?

 

Gone is the familiar voice and warmth I used to be surrounded by all the time.

Things are lying scattered on the floor screaming their heads off for help.

So a home you have now, they say. Have i a home?

No. A cubicle of a pathetic 100sqft is what i have. Not a home.

A home is a proper home that belongs to you. (Is that why a proper home is called property? Hehe.)

 

Wikipedia:

A home is a place where a person, family, or group of people live or spend much of their time, or where a person feels safe or comfortable.

 

I don’t feel safe nor comfortable here. Or wherever I had previously moved to. TT used to scare me and say that there might be hidden cameras somewhere in the house/room/bathroom in the new place I was moving to. Then some hamsup landlord will be sitting at home gawking at their computer screen with their thick, geeky glasses, chewing on pop corns while jerking the **** off. And I thought he was being so paranoid. But who knows it could be true! SO SCARY OK! (in The L Word, some dude did exactly that to film the footage of the sex life of a few lesbians) Nowadays it’s an unaffordable mistake to misplace your trust in some strangers. You can’t say that it will never happen. And you can never be too careful.

 

Need more reason?

Wikipedia:

The concept of “home” is compared to the human need for peaceful sanctuary, the absence of it thus leading to restlessness. Such restlessness, may lead to depression and, ultimately, to a loss of sanity.

 

Cheesus. I don’t want to be insane! (Don’t mind being in Seine again though)

 

So. Bottom line.

 

Get. Your. Own. Damn. Place.

 

If you don’t already have one.

Many friends wanted me to have second thoughts before I even think of committing myself to being a lifetime property slave. Buying a house is a big commitment (almost for life). I’m still young. Why would I want to tie myself down to an endless loan when I can enjoy the money i have in so many other ways. Having no liabilities is an asset. You spend whatever you earn.

But. I’d rather commit to this faithful, long-lasting relationship that’s gonna cost me seven arms and seven legs than to have exciting love affairs with alco, ciggies, glamorous nightlife and parties. Because at the end of the day it is a home I am going back to. Not an empty vodka bottle. Then again I might have to give up my utmost fantasy to have the most random casual flings with the most romantic getaways. Which sucks. There are sacrifices you’ll have to make when you’re committed to someone/thing I guess.

I know of homeless (figuratively speaking, of course) people. And I can empathize. I’ve been living under people’s roof all my life and I want to stop living like a nomad already. I refuse to share my privacy with some strangers I don’t know of. Some people, especially people who have been living with their parents all their lives, will never understand our despair to be properly propertied. And I mean, the lust for a proper, property, that has its whatever document bearing my divine name. Not some dodgy pigsty I pay RM350 a month (exclusive of aircon bill) for which I’ll never make an effort to turn it into a place decent enough for living. I want a house which I can do anycheese I want. Bricks I can eat if I want to. But homeless people (oh, have i taken its definition out of the zipcode?) shall not surrender to homelessness.

 

Because, I will, eventually, have a place I call Home Cheese Home. One day. Soon. And Ikea shall be my favorite shopping mall.

 

I don’t care about the price I have to pay (Yea. Pun.) to be unhomelessified. It’s a sense of belonging I’ll be longing for.

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