Enough Space

I understand that I am extremely blessed. In times such as these, to have a place to stay makes me a lucky man. When I have a job that will barely let me work at all, resulting in me only making enough money to pay off my medical insurance bill each month, having my family to keep me from being homeless is something to be grateful for. Too bad I am an ingrate.

Seriously, this situation is just NOT working for me. It is beyond frustrating to be here and have no space of my own. I can't even keep all of my clothes in the same room, let alone a room I can call mine. I have a bed in a corner with a small bookshelf next to it. That's basically it. Everything else is either stashed or stored or in a hallway or under a bed. Of course I am not unwelcome here, but really, how am I supposed to feel when I know I just don't fit in?

Want to hear something sad? I basically stay up late at night, not because I am a nite-owl or anything like that, but because I am waiting for a moment where people finally go away to their own beds and I get a moment of peace. I have to wait until 1 in the morning just to escape, feel like I'm not surrounded. I really just want some time to sit, alone, for a moment or two. I need that feeling of just being by myself. Solitary.

Maybe it's because I've basically had to share space for my entire life. Except maybe the first 4 or 5 years of my life, I've never had a room of my own. Okay, I've gotten a space of my own maybe once or twice, but none of those situations ever lasted even close to a year's time. Those of you who have, well, I really hope you appreciate it. Cause seriously, I'm starting to think that the fact that I have been deprived of it for most of my life is really taking a toll.

I'm...I'm upset.

There's really not much else I can say. Or do.