This is not my home. This was never my home, and it will never be my home. I don’t have a home.
It hasn’t been this way for long. A couple months. But…it’s hard. I was told “we need to sell it” when I lost my last place. Really? I thought. You need to sell it? I need a home. Does your need to turn a profit trump my need for shelter?
So now I don’t have a home.
I got lucky: I have people who care about me. I’m not on the streets. But still, this isn’t my home.
I don’t know how long I’ll be here. I hope it’s not for long. I feel bad. I feel like I’m taking advantage of my loved ones. Who am I to live off their generosity? But where can I go? With housing prices so high, I can’t buy a home, but I can’t seem to rent one either. Everywhere I look, it seems as though the places that I can afford are being torn down and replaced with condos.
These condos…I don’t understand. They are as expensive as a small house yet half the size.
As I look around me, I see more people in my spot, or worse off then me. They are living in the streets! The homeless population is raising as the availability of cheap housing is falling. But why?
Why is this happening? Why is it being permitted? Doesn’t anybody care?
I don’t know the answer, and I can’t solve the problem. All I can do is keep looking and hope.
If I can’t find something soon, I don’t know what I’ll do.