my secret base

I live in a room in the back of my friend's house. It was formerly used for storage so it's a bit neglected. There's no overhead lights, no central heating. Lots of weird drafts come in from mysterious cracks and the roof leaks right on the carpet outside my door.

It reminds me of Rena's secret hideout, stowed away between piles of garbage. I have string lights slung along the rafters. I fill most space with "happy clutter"- stuffed animals, cute anime stuff, nostalgic trinkets, lacey curtains. A mattress slots nicely into the only space that allows for walkway through the room. I walk through the rest of the house like a mouse, a timid intruder.

I have a space heater and most of the outlets work. It's a real place to live, not a secret junkyard getaway. Maybe I'm getting too old for escapism. I bet I make it sound horrible! But it's not a bad place to be most of the time; it helps me keep distance between me and my overbearing mother.

Spacehey is a new hideaway. A new place to wax poetic about my terminal nostalgia and wonder if anything changes or if you just feel like the world's saddest, oldest kid for all your life. People say you're supposed to be poor and sad and confused in your twenties but it feels like I'm going to struggle forever.