I don't think I ever realized how much I took my old home for granted.
In mid-2021, my family had to move to a remote northern town without any public spaces. The reason? My grandma owns several houses around here and she was willing to give us one without having to pay for rent. The pandemic had pretty much fucked over the housing prices of just about anywhere else, so there really wasn't any other option and I'm grateful for all that she's done for us.
But that still doesn't change the fact that this damn house is pretty much all I have for now. If I'm having conflicts with my family or I feel distressed by the news, I can't go out somewhere for a healthy distraction.
And of course, I don't have any fucking friends either.
I'm so lonely and overwhelmed every goddamn day and there's nothing I can do about it. I want to live a normal life like a normal fucking person. I hate having to live my life in complete limbo, never knowing if I can truly have a social life or if I can make it in the world. All this waiting is making me sick.
I somewhat hate my younger self for wanting to isolate herself all the time. I can't necessarily blame my traumatized ass, but I could've had friends. I could've found people outside of my school or I could've gone to a different one but instead, I had to curl in my room and feel sorry for myself. My life was still pretty shit, but at least I technically had freedom....which is more than I can say for my current self.
